“Hold on. We’re doing that now? I thought it was for later in the year, after the busy season.”
“It was. But the company had a contract fall through. I got them for a good price, but only if we start now. So they’re doing the road and utilities at the same time. We need to expand the right of way first, to thirty feet— What’s so funny?”
“Thirty feet. Ten meters.”
He frowned in confusion.
“Never mind.”
“Right. Anyway, as I was saying… Widen it to thirty feet. Then the utility companies can bury the mains. I want to bury new phone lines too, while we’re at it.”
“Why? We already have poles.”
“Yeah, but underground is better. I wouldn’t bother if it was still the old Southern Bell. Those guys were assholes. The new company is BellSouth. Same people, but now they understand what happens when they annoy their customers. Gee, I wonder why. Anyway, they’re a lot more accommodating. Then again, maybe it’s just ’cause a large shareholder is doing the asking.”
“You mean Susan?”
“Yeah. I swear, Paul, she owns stock in a hundred different companies. Technology, telecoms, healthcare, you name it. Those are just the big ones. She’s a major shareholder in at least a dozen smaller ones. Hell, she even owns things like hotels and day care centers! I had no idea.”
“I did,” I admitted, “but not the extent of it.”
“The woman’s a genius. I learned more from her in a week than I did in a year of business classes.” He paused and shifted gears. “Back to the utilities. It’s twice as expensive to bury the phone lines, but we have to do most of the work anyway, so…”
“Right. Got it. Bury everything.”
“Yep. And then upgrade it and turn it into a proper road once they’re done.” He shuffled his notes. “Okay. So, you need to spend this week designing things.”
“What about the bungalows? I can still work,” I insisted.
“Let me worry about that. I’ve been injured before. It takes longer than you think to heal. So you do light work this week.”
“But—”
“It’s still work,” he said. “Not manual labor, but I know how much time goes into designing things.” He chuckled softly. “It used to bug the hell out of me, especially when you’d stare out the window or into space. I thought you were goofing off. But then you’d come up with these amazing ideas, and I realized you were thinking and designing the whole time. Maybe not consciously, but that’s how it works. And it’s one of the things that convinced me to shift my priorities from architecture to business.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’m really a hands-on guy. I need to have things in front of me. Sure, I think about ’em, but not like you. You can work in your head. So it might not seem like you’re doing anything, but then you put pencil to paper and designs appear. It’s pretty impressive.”
“Thanks,” I said humbly.
“You’re welcome. So, don’t worry about the bungalows. I’ll take care of ’em. You just do what you do best.”
“What’s that?” Wren said from the door. She wore a T-shirt and shorts. Christy was with her, also in a T-shirt but with a skirt instead of shorts. “I’m just kidding,” Wren added. “You’re talking about work, right?”
“Yeah,” Trip said. “What’re you up to?”
“I need the keys to the car, please. We’re going to town for groceries.”
“You wanna talk schedules before you go?” he asked. “Since you’re here and all.”
Wren looked at Christy, who shrugged and nodded.
“Pull up a chair,” Trip told them. He scooted toward me to give them room. “I put Paul on the DL for this week,” he began.
“Hey,” Christy squawked, “he isn’t disabled!”
Trip gave me a wry look. “See? Even she knows what it is.”
“I know what Osoto gari is,” I muttered.
“What?” he laughed.
“I’ll show you sometime.”
“Nah, it’s cool.” He turned to the girls and continued, “Anyway, he’s on the DL, but I still need him to design stuff. Christy, you too, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. How can I help?”
“Keep him focused. And do your thing to make his designs better.”
She shot me a grin.
“But also… I was hoping you’d work on the landscaping. Sorry, lemme rephrase—Susan was hoping.”
“She wants me to plant flowers?” Christy asked.
“No,” he chuckled, “she wants you to design the landscaping. She has a good idea what she wants, but… I told her you had experience.”
“Not really.”
“Your mom said you did it when you moved to San Diego. I overheard her talking to Paul’s mom.”
“I didn’t really do anything,” Christy demurred. “I just said what looked good and where it should go.”
“That’s sort of what landscape design is,” he chuckled. “Besides, from what I understand, it’s mostly about color and scale. You can do that in your sleep. And… it’s something you and Paul can do together, while his hand heals.”
“Oh, okay. Since you put it that way…” Then she added, “If it’s okay with him.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “I get to design something with my girlfriend? Sign me up!”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”
“Hey, be nice!” Christy told her.
“I’m just kidding, my love. It sounds fun.” She turned to Trip. “What do you want me to do?”
“Would you mind helping me?”
“Do what? Never mind. Of course I’ll help.”
“I want to finish trimming out the bungalows. It won’t take long, three or four days, but it’s quicker with an extra pair of hands. Besides, the furniture’s supposed to be here soon. Once we get it assembled and installed, the Retreat’ll be complete. Or close enough. Susan still has to decorate—Christy, she wants your help with that too—but we can sign off on our part.”
We all nodded.
“One other piece of business before we go,” Trip added. He looked at Christy and me. “Wren and I need to head back to Atlanta next week. Her father’s throwing his annual Fourth of July party. Y’all’re welcome to come…”
“Sure, maybe,” I said.
“Only, I wanna see the fireworks here,” Christy said.
“So we’ll be staying,” I finished smoothly.
Trip and Wren smiled at each other, although hers turned into a smirk when she looked at me.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said. “I don’t know what I want until she tells me.”
“What’s this?” Trip asked with a curious grin.
“Nothing,” Wren said. “You were saying…?”
He knew an “I’ll tell you later” expression as well as anyone.
“Right. Okay. So, we also need to buy a computer while we’re in Atlanta.” He held up his hand to forestall my objection. “Yeah, we’ve been using yours. No offense, but it’s old. And it isn’t an IBM. I need a real computer, a work PC.”
He was probably right, but I still felt an irrational urge to defend my Commodore. It had been a good little computer and done everything I’d asked it to. That wasn’t saying much, but it was the principle.
“So?” I said mulishly. “Why do we need a new one? Besides, they cost a fortune!”
“It’s a company expense,” Trip insisted. “And we can afford it.”
Christy added in a more soothing tone, “Paul, yours is fine for typing papers, but it doesn’t have a spreadsheet or hard drive or anything.”
“I don’t know what those are,” I said, “but we don’t need ’em.”
Christy and Trip shared a look.
“Anyway,” he said cautiously, “Wren’s father put me in touch with the guy who does the computers for the restaurants. He’s going to set up a new one with all the bells and whistles. I’ll buy it myself if you don’t want the company—”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “Christy too. I guess it’s time for me to join the Digital Revolution. Besides, I… um… I’ve been reading about this new thing called AutoCAD. Professor Ledbetter says it’s the wave of the future. Professor Joska doesn’t think much of it, but…” I shrugged and remained undecided.