“Nineteen ninety-eight,” she said. Her lips were pursed to the side.
“So we’re going to make a fire and melt snow on the hearth for water? We’re isolated out here.”
“But what would you use for fuel? Are you going to have to keep pouring gas into it all the time?”
Alan stood and walked his clothes to the hamper.
“No, Liz, the Colonel had the good sense to install those two giant propane tanks on the north side of the house. We’ll get it hooked up to those. They have enough juice to run the stove for about twenty years. I think the Colonel was planning to install a generator himself. Maybe he just didn’t get around to it.”
“Okay,” Liz said. “I mean, you don’t need my permission. Why don’t you?”
“I’ll shop for them tomorrow. They might be too expensive. I know what the units cost, but I don’t know how much it will cost to get it wired in right. We want it to automatically switch over, and that might be pricey.”
“Okay,” Liz said.
“If anything, this will help when your relatives show up. Didn’t you say it was a disaster that one year when the power went out right in the middle of the visit?”
“I said okay, Alan,” Liz said.
“Don’t you think it will be nice to not have to worry about power during their visit?”
“It was fun, Alan,” Liz said. “We lived like settlers for a couple of days and everyone had a good time. The only problem was that we couldn’t cook the turkey indoors and the grill burned it up, but that’s why the Colonel took out the electric oven and put in gas.”
“How about we break all the lightbulbs before your family comes? How about that?”
“You’d really push my buttons if I didn’t love you so much,” Liz said.
Alan lowered his shoulders and smiled.
“I wish you didn’t have such a long commute,” Alan said.
“I think you’re just lonely. Let’s be honest—my commute is actually shorter most of the time now that I’m not dealing with city traffic and the subway. When we first moved here, you had the whole summer with Joe and I was on vacation for a lot of it. Now you’re alone in this big house? Maybe you need to meet some new people.”
Alan scratched the side of his face and then slipped between the covers.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right.” He smiled to let her know he wasn’t poking fun at her. “I’ll start with jogging. That always makes me happy.”
SEPTEMBER 3 - SEPTEMBER 11
ALAN LACED his shoes as Joe finished breakfast. He stayed in the driveway and stretched until he heard Joe’s bus turn around down the road. Alan set off at a medium pace. Before he’d gone a mile, his legs had slowed to a slog. He turned left on the Mill Road. About halfway down the big flat section, Alan decided to head back. His feet hurt, his form was atrocious, and his thighs felt like they’d been dipped in concrete. By the time he got home, he was barely lifting his shoes from the road.
The second day treated him better. Alan did the same three-mile out and back, but he felt like the cobwebs were lifting from his tired muscles. Fatigue hit him in the afternoon. He took the third day off. The plumber from the gas company was coming out to install the necessary lines for the new generator. The dispatcher told Alan to expect him between eight and noon. The man came at eleven-thirty and ate his lunch in his truck before he started working. By the time he left, Alan didn’t have the energy to run.
On the fourth day of his new exercise regime, Alan achieved his unspoken goal. He saw the carpenter. Alan was jogging east on the Mill Road, in the direction of Location Road when he saw him. The carpenter was coming towards him. Alan cleaned up his stride and quickened his pace a little as they approached each other.
Alan always jogged on the left side of the road. He wore headphones and didn’t like the idea of being surprised by traffic from behind. The carpenter jogged on the right. They were on a collision course.
Alan waved at the last second. The carpenter gave a nod.
Alan ran until he got to the place where the stream came close to the side of the road. It was farther than he intended to run. He turned and saw the carpenter off in the distance. At Alan’s casual pace, the carpenter pulled steadily away. By the time Alan turned back onto Durham Road, the carpenter was already lost over the hills. Alan sprinted to try to draw within sight again, but he failed. Back at home, Alan stretched in the driveway for twenty minutes, thinking that the carpenter would turn around and run by again. He never did.
With the gas installed, Alan turned his attention to getting the unit delivered. He was learning the delicate dance of generator installation as he went. With the propane lines run, the unit could be placed. Only then could you call the propane company to come back again to hook up the lines. It was important to tell the dispatcher that your service was interrupted. If they knew you were hooking up a new service, you might get an appointment for next week. If they thought you were replacing or repairing a service, you could expect the technician that same day. Alan learned this through trial and error.
He got the unit delivered by a local appliance company. Three men moved dirt, placed paving stones, and ensured everything was level and ready. With the exception of lifting the big machine, Alan could have done the whole thing himself, but it was nice to have experienced people do the job. By the time they were through, Alan thought Liz couldn’t possibly object. Their work looked very professional.
Alan didn’t mention it to Liz and she didn’t even notice the new unit until the propane guy came out to hook it up. He arrived during dinner.
“Oh my god, that’s the generator?” Liz asked. The propane guy pulled up, waved, and went right to work.
“Like it?”
“It looks like it’s always been there. What a great job you did.”
“I didn’t do much of it,” Alan said. He had planted a few extra flowers in front of the gray box, but it was already pretty well camouflaged against the granite foundation.
“I saw it when I came home,” Joe said.
They sat in the Cook House while the plumber completed his work.
“How come he’s here so late?” Liz asked.
“He lives up the road. He said he’d come by on his way home,” Alan said.
“Well I couldn’t be more pleased. I’m so glad you did that,” Liz said.
“I still have to get the power hooked up to it,” Alan said. “One more step.”
It turned out to be the hardest step of the process. The next day he called eight electricians. He left messages on seven answering machines and with one wife. By the next morning, he’d had no replies. He called again. In the city, service businesses had people who answered the phone. They had office staff. Out here, everyone seemed to work for themselves, making their own hours and, apparently, their own rules about how to deal with customers.
That afternoon, Alan received a few callbacks. Two of the electricians told Alan that he lived outside their normal range, the third call promised to come by later that week. Alan called the store that had delivered the generator. They seemed responsive and professional during that process. They gave him the number of Skip Strand—an electrician he hadn’t found in the phone book.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered when Alan called.
“Hi, I’m looking for Skip Strand?”
“Speaking.”
“Hi, I’m trying to get a generator installed.”
“Where do you live?”