“How did you manage that, dear?”
“Homework, Abbey. I did my homework. I hired a couple of good bird dogs to sniff out the owner’s other properties and found out this fourth building had mostly short-term leases, and he’s losing money on them. I already own a neighboring building where we just signed a new ten-year lease with Wisconsin Energy. They’re going to take four floors where there are currently twenty other tenants whose leases are all coming up. I’ll give them some attractive incentives to get as many of them as I can to sign a long-term lease in the new building, and everybody wins.”
“But how did you get it for nothing?” Abigale asked.
“Because I played hardball in the beginning and gave them the impression I could back out of the deal without much provocation.”
His father went on and on relaying a story that only proved to Lee just how manipulative his father could be when it came to money.
Henry stared at Lee. “If only you had inherited some of your—”
“Henry.”
“Yes, dear.” Henry got up and headed toward the stairs. “I’m turning in. This was a good day.”
Lee’s mother waited for her husband to be out of earshot before saying to Lee, “You might want to sleep in tomorrow...give us a chance to slip out before he remembers the real reason for our stopping by.”
Lee really liked it when it appeared his mother was on his side.
10 | Learning to Drive
Lee waited for his parents to leave the next morning and then typed the letter to Stonebugger. He kept it brief, thinking it wise not to divulge too much information—”the smaller the target, the less chance of being shot down”—one of his father’s favorite sayings.
He felt somewhat transformed as he drove to the post office. Not completely grown up—after all, he still internally referred to his trustee as “Scrooge,” and he didn’t support himself, another factor he suspected disqualified him from bona fide adulthood. But at least he didn’t feel like he was merely drifting along through life waiting for the next thing to happen.
I think I’m finally in the driver’s seat. Now all I have to do is learn how to drive.
* * *
Stonebugger called him one evening the following week with a list of questions, all asked in the same dreadful monotone he had used in their first meeting. Lee answered as best he could and was told he would hear back from him by letter. As soon as he got off the phone, he told Shaneta he wouldn’t be home for dinner and headed for Deer Bottom Inn.
Lee chose the route to the inn that took him by his property. When he was a half-mile from its nearest border, he saw a car pulling an enclosed trailer move from the shoulder onto the road. He slowed down and then followed the car to the corner of Attenberg Road and Route 173 where they both stopped for the Stop sign. As the other car turned left, Lee glanced inside and saw that the driver looked a lot like Sheriff DeRam.
Lee considered turning left and following the car, but thinking he was probably being paranoid about the sheriff, he decided against it and turned right, toward Rockton.
The inn was crowded. He half-listened to the song blaring from the jukebox while he waited for CJ to notice him.
“Hey, Socrates. What’s cookin’?”
The sound of her voice calmed him. He acknowledged her question with a nod and smile.
She put her hand on the Bud tap and gave him an Is-this-what-you-want? look.
Lee nodded and mouthed, “And a menu.”
She handed him the beer and said, “You don’t need the stinkin’ menu. You’re having pizza.”
“CJ?”
“Soc?”
“I’ve never had pizza before.”
She stared at him. “You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nope. Never had it. I wouldn’t even know how to order it.”
“What planet are you from, Dexter?”
“That’s a provocative question.”
“Ha! I’d respond to that if I knew what it meant.”
“It means stimulating...but it can also mean aggravating.”
“That’s what I hate about big words—they have more than one meaning. Now, had you said that question was interesting, everyone would know what you mean. Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you to be more real, Soc.” She walked away to wait on another customer.
Twenty minutes later, CJ brought him another beer and a pizza...fully loaded. He wished the light was better in the bar so he could identify what was on it.
“Don’t look at it like it’s a damn science project. Just pick up a slice and bite into it!”
By the time CJ came back to check on him, he had devoured half of the pizza.
“So?”
“It’s good.”
“Tell me you’ve never had mac ‘n cheese either.”
Lee shook his head.
“You’re warped.”
“Probably.”
“You got any brothers or sisters?”
“Two brothers.”
“Are they like you?”
“In what way?”
“In any way.”
Lee thought about that for a moment. “Probably just the pizza and mac ‘n cheese thing. Other than that, we’re quite different.”
If she only knew.
Later that evening, as he was driving home, Lee mused about the big loose snowflakes that had begun to fall from the night sky. It was an early snow, even by Wisconsin standards, the kind of snow he would liked to have played in as a child but was never allowed, something he had accepted at the time but now didn’t understand.
When he got home, Lee got out of the car, threw his head back, and opened his mouth to catch one flake after another on his tongue. Twenty-four hours earlier, he had believed he was almost grown-up. Premature thinking apparently. What had CJ said? The important thing was to be whole. As far as he was concerned, catching snowflakes in his mouth got him closer to that goal.
Someday, when the time was right, he would thank CJ for the wisdom she had imparted to him.
* * *
Stonebugger’s letter came three days later. He said he would approve the $50,000 withdrawal from the trust fund for the sole purpose of building a small house on the property, subject to his prior approval of the architectural plans, builder’s contract, budget, and schedule.
Stonebugger wasn’t about to let anything fall through the cracks—probably a good thing, Lee thought. ‘Cause I really don’t know what I’m doing here.
The snow that had begun falling the night before had stopped, and the sun was trying to peek out from behind low cloud cover. He decided to take a run out to the property while the early-winter weather still allowed it.
He reached the property mid-afternoon, and as he walked the mile and a half from the road to the stream in the northwest corner, he started a mental To Do list.
1. Remove NOS signs.
2. Install gate; create parking space inside.
3. Check personal bank account balance.
He gazed out over the acres of snow-covered terrain. This is my property. My property. Not Mother and Father’s. Not Bennett’s or Nelson’s. It’s mine to do with as I please. Well...almost.
It wasn’t cold enough to freeze the shallow stream, the width of which had now been reduced to no more than fifteen feet due to the accumulation of snow on its banks. It had a nice bend to it. He pictured a small house on the outside of the deepest part of the bend. Nothing fancy. Exactly the opposite, in fact. He wondered if log cabins were allowed. Although Scrooge probably wouldn’t approve of that.
Lee headed toward the dense population of trees and brush in the northeast corner of the property. He walked into the wooded area for about a hundred feet before the brush made it difficult to navigate. Just when he thought about turning back, he saw a clearing ahead and trudged on.
The clearing took up three to four acres. Beyond it were more trees. He walked through it toward the edge of the property. A glint of sunlight reflecting off something
in the distance—perhaps the metal of the fence—caught his attention.
Once through fifty feet or so of brush, he reached the fence and discovered a gate wide enough for a car. He opened it and entered the neighboring property, which had apparently been cleared in preparation for the next season’s crop. He surveyed the fence line down to the road until his eyes rested on his car, a mile or so away, the same path he had seen the sheriff drive down days earlier.
4. Put lock on gate.
Lee closed the gate and walked back through the clearing, glancing down at the ground that had been revealed in the snow by his footsteps. He reached down and pulled up a plant consisting of mostly just roots—a series of long, thin grayish strands of plant life. Illinois had a wide diversity of native grasses and herbaceous plants, and because of his education, Lee knew all of them and their root systems. But he didn’t recognize this one. He swished away the snow in a bigger area and uncovered even rows of the same species—clearly planted by someone at some point, and based on the clean cuts on the stems just above the ground, recently removed by someone.
Lee’s expertise wasn’t in agricultural crops, so he figured it was some grain or vegetable to which he had never been exposed. Curious as to how much had been planted, he kicked at the snow until all four edges of the field were revealed—roughly an acre. He reexamined the roots he had pulled up and then stuck them in his back pocket.
5. Identify crop in northeast corner.
Instead of driving home, Lee headed west, to the inn. When he walked in, he heard a song by Heart, a band that was starting to grow on him, playing on the jukebox.
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist
“Hey, Soc, what’s crackalackin’?”
“Not too much, CJ.”
“Regular brewski?”
“Sure,” he responded, feeling like one of the guys...until he almost missed catching the beer CJ slid down the bar.
“Nice save, goober.”
Very funny.
Thirty minutes passed before CJ got back to him. “Another one?”
Lee responded with a nod.
When she returned with the beer, he asked, “Do you know anyone from Harvard?”
She stared at him for a few seconds. “Next question.”
“Just asking.”
“I know some people.”
“By any chance, do you know Sheriff DeRam?”
CJ looked past him, at something far off...way far off.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She walked away before he could finish his sentence.
Lee slipped out of the bar without drinking the rest of his beer, wishing he hadn’t asked her the question. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his only friend.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Lee to discover he didn’t have much choice in architects if he was to stay local. In fact, the closest one who would even consider a small project like the one he had in mind was in Rockford, and he wasn’t thrilled about coming all the way to Harvard to see the property. It was only after Lee said he would pay him for his travel time, gas, and any other expenses he incurred that he agreed to do it.
Dennis Freborg, President of Freborg and Sons Architects, met Lee on his property the following week. He brought with him his grown son, David; five-year-old grandson, Duane; and his German shepherd, Gunther.
Lee led them to the northwest corner of the property where he pictured building the house. “What do you think?” he asked Dennis.
“I like the location. It has high elevation, and there’s the stream and all. It could be quite charming, but have you thought about water, your septic system, and utilities, not to mention a long driveway. One good snow, and you could be grounded for a while.”
Lee hadn’t thought about any of those things.
“Look, I can produce plans for any type of house you want, but you’ll have to figure out all these other things before you decide where to build it.”
“Can you recommend a good builder?”
“That I can do. Earl Lundberg is one of the best in the area. He’s reasonable, and he takes on small projects. I’ve worked a few jobs with him.”
They were heading back toward the road where the cars were parked when Gunther started running off toward the woods near where Lee had discovered the gate a few days earlier.
“Gunther!” Dennis shouted. The dog kept running.
“I’ll get him,” his son said. “C’mon Duane.”
Little Duane thought it great fun chasing after the dog, laughing his way through the tall grasses and shrubs, many of which were as tall as he was. Lee and Dennis followed them, walking more slowly.
“I haven’t seen Gunther run like that since he was on the force.”
“The force?”
“Gunther was a K-9 on the Chicago police force for five years. I took him in when he was ready to retire.”
“Really? What did he do there?”
“Search and rescue. Sniffing out bombs, dead bodies, drugs, accelerants, stuff like that.”
“Pretty impressive.”
When they reached the edge of the wooded area, David, Duane, and Gunther emerged from it, heading back toward them. David had Gunther by the collar.
“I’ve never seen him act like that,” David said. “He went berserk. Like maybe his training kicked in.”
“Gee, I hope there aren’t any dead bodies back there, Lee.”
Lee laughed. “I hope not!”
* * *
Lee met with the builder three days later to talk about the issues Dennis had raised. Lee liked him from the start, and after he answered all the questions Lee had gleaned from the book he had borrowed from the library, he felt Earl would be a good choice.
Lee asked him what he thought about building a log cabin.
Earl shook his head. “You’ll have nothing but problems, believe me. I wouldn’t recommend it. If you want something simple and different, how about an A-frame?”
“What’s an A-frame?”
Earl held up both hands, fingertips together, wrists apart. “Steep roofline that comes down close to the ground, like the letter A. Some would say they’re no longer in style, but I like building them. Not much living space, but what’s there is cozy. Ask Dennis about them.”
“Thanks, I will.”
When Lee got home, he was just entering the house through the garage when he heard the phone ringing. He waited to hear either Shaneta or Sonya’s voice but instead the phone continued to ring. When he reached the kitchen, he answered it.
“Winekoop residence.”
“Lee?”
“Mother?”
“Why are you answering the phone?”
CJ’s face appeared in his mind’s eye. “‘Cause I live here?”
“Where are Shaneta and Sonya?”
“I have no idea, Mother. I just walked in the door.”
“Where were you?”
He didn’t answer right away.
I’m twenty-six years old, almost twenty-seven, and I have to answer to her as to where I’ve been?
“I just got back from drinking all afternoon in town where I blew all my money in a poker game and then wound things up with a real nice hooker.”
“Lee! What’s gotten into you?”
“Sorry, Mother. That was just my attempt at a little humor. I was out, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you call me back when you can be a little less offensive.”
“I’m sorr—” Click. She had hung up.
11 | “Ditch the Rich Boy”
After considering several scenarios as to how he could pull off developing his land in complete secrecy, none of which seemed plausible, Lee decided he had to tell his parents about it. He called Stonebugger for guidance.
“Hello, Mr. Stone...bugger,” he stumbled over his name, pulling him back to his awkward teenage years
when talking to adults made him so nervous he couldn’t always get the words out.
“Yes, Mr. Winekoop.” His voice sounded even more stilted than usual.
Lee asked him if it was permissible to tell his family about the inheritance of the land.
“Did you check to see what the trust document says?”
I wouldn’t have called you if I could decipher it myself, Scrooge.
“Yes, I did, but I would like your interpretation, if you don’t mind.”
Lee waited patiently while he listened to the sound of papers shuffling.
“Since the manner in which you acquired the land is not part and parcel to the terms and conditions of the trust, it would be permissible to tell others how you acquired it.”
A simple “yes” was all I needed.
“And what about putting a house on it? Same thing?”
“Yes.”
His next call was to his mother.
“Hello, Mother?”
“Lee?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“It is I.”
“It is I.” He pictured CJ rolling her eyes. “There’s something I need to get off my chest.”
“Are you in a less sarcastic state of mind today, dear?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry about the other day. I don’t know what got into me.”
“I’m listening.”
“After Uncle Nelson died, as you know, we all inherited a piece of his estate.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, I never divulged everything I inherited from him. I didn’t know if Bennett’s and Nelson’s inheritances were similar to mine, so I just never said anything.”
“What are you getting at, Lee?”
“Uncle Nelson left me some land not far from here, in Harvard, Illinois.” He waited for her response. It took several seconds.
“How much land, dear?”
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