by Matthew Nuth
“Congrats, guys. They have one heck of a spread for you out back. Let’s go have some fun!” yelled William as he headed through the grass lawn towards the front door
Arlin, deferring to the walkway merely smiled and waved. “Paul, Sam, I am so glad you let me come to the wedding. You guys are going to be so surprised at what your families did for you.” At that he popped in through the front door, right behind William.
Paul looked to Sam. “You know they just left the beer. You think they forgot?” He smiled, “Okay, Sam, you grab that handle and I get this one. See what you missed by not staying with William?”
At this Paul stopped, “Hey what do you say? We could leave the tub and just take a few to our new apartment and bag the party. I am pretty excited to see what they have done with it. Given that William and Arlin have been there all day drinking, we might want to check to make sure they didn’t burn it down.”
“Let’s go, big boy, we won’t stay long. I am sure our families will want to wish us the best. They’ll be the ones shooing us off to our new home soon enough. Grab your side, that is unless you don’t think you are strong enough to carry it. I mean I do see how you have let yourself go since getting out of the army.” Sam laughed as she put her hand into the tub, scooping up some water and flicking it at Paul.
With that they picked up the tub of beer and walked together into the house. It was a game that would be played out for years. Playing with each other, contemplating something crazy, then doing the right thing, always with a smile.
* * *
I pulled myself up from the chair, thankful that I got to see Dad come out of his fog, even for just a brief moment. I was beginning to forget how vibrant a man he had been. I needed some context to jar my memory. This had been just what I needed. I only wish Mom and Uncle Bill could have been with me.
Bob was quietly waiting just outside the bedroom door, leaning against the hallway wall. “Randall, I’m glad you got to talk with your Dad. He comes awake every now and again, but I can never tell when it is going to happen. You mind if I go in to finish up? You go to bed. I’ll take care of him.”
To that, I just nodded. “Thanks, Bob, but I think I am going to head into the kitchen and finish up with some things.” With that I padded off through the living room with Uncle Bill’s snoring, through the dining room and back into the kitchen. I dumped out the stale coffee and started a fresh pot brewing. I suspected it would be a long night, but I felt as though I did not have enough time to finish everything I needed to do, to learn what I needed to know.
As the coffee started to drip, I walked to the kitchen table and pulled open the box I had intended to dig into earlier. I noticed a well- worn, brown, accordion style folder with “1952 to” written in blue ink. Somewhere along the way the file had become filled and dumped into the box without ever noting the final date pertaining to the contents. The folder was old enough not to have the elastic ties we see today; instead it was cinched shut with a heavy brown ribbon tied in a bow.
I returned to the coffee maker, poured a cup of fresh, hot coffee and sat down at the table to explore the folder’s contents. I kicked my feet up onto a chair so I could use my lap as a table to facilitate my research. I pulled opened the folder, emptied the contents on my lap and returned the folder to the table, planning to refill it as I progressed through the stack of papers.
The first item I turned over was a familiar picture. It was a black and white picture of Mom and Dad on their wedding day. They were so young and vibrant. Sometimes I could still see traces of that look in Mom, but Dad’s face had aged significantly since that day, almost to a point I would not recognize them as the same person. The newlywed’s smiles were exuberant, but natural. They were smiles I had become accustomed to over the years as commonplace. So, common that when they disappeared for some brief times, it was unsettling and frightening. For those tough times when the smiles were absent, it was as if my parents had become absent.
Unlike contemporary weddings that have become huge, expensive events driven by the need to impress, this picture showed two individuals with no concerns other than to celebrate their love for one another. I know that neither my grandparents nor my Mom and Dad had much money at that time, but from the look in their faces, I could tell it did not matter. Dad was wearing a suit and Mom looked to be wearing a basic light-colored, short-sleeved, button-up dress. I suspect this dress had not actually been a “wedding” dress as much as just nice dress Mom had already owned. Such were the times in the early fifty’s.
The next picture I turned over was one that I had never seen before. It was also from Mom and Dad’s wedding day, but this one included a number of other people. I flipped the picture over to see the names of those that had been at the wedding. On the far right of the picture stood Virginia and Lyle. I had developed a huge affinity to these two even though they had passed away when I was a kid. It was a treat to see them. As a young boy, I didn’t know much about them other than they were “family” and for Dad, it was as if they were his uncle and aunt. There was Grandma, smiling just like always. She also had died when I was a kid. I could not remember seeing many pictures of her in our house. Next to Grandma was Uncle Bill. He looked already two sheets to the wind. In the picture, it looked as if he had dark rings around his eyes. From experience, I knew these to be the red rimmed eyes that accompanied his drinking. His smile was so big, he looked to be a fool, but from my talk with him earlier this evening, I knew that smile to be confessing to his true admiration of and his happiness for his brother. Next to Uncle Bill was Arlin Peeples. Arlin now lived in San Diego, not far from my wife and I. He occasionally pops in for dinner.
On the other side of the bride and groom were a couple middle-aged folks I did not recognize. From the back I, could see they were my Mom’s parents. Sheila and Richards Corrs. They were the two grandparents I never met. I had always felt as though I was missing part of a family, knowing these people were part of my blood line, but never having had the chance to meet them. Next to the Corrs was Joe Klein. He was another person I had never met, but I had heard so much about him from my family, I suspect he was a pretty impressive individual. His son had stayed involved with the business and was an equally impressive person. He still is.
Grandpa wasn’t in the picture. He must have been holding the camera.
There was a folded note paper clipped to the picture. All it said was . . .
Mom and Dad, Thank you. I guess we are here to stay.
Love, Paul
in Dad’s handwriting. It looked as if he had finally recognized Fort Collins as his home for good.
Chapter 13
The 40 acres of the development had now been scraped by graders; shaving bushes, weeds, and small trees as if whiskers swept away by a razor blade. The grading process had been repeated a number of times to lower the street and raise the house pads. It would be critical to complete the first three homes before the snow of winter hit. The goal was to have these first three homes finished and furnished as models by September 1.
The first model would also double as The Joe Klein and Company office, exclusive realtors for the Simmons & Sons development. The office would be set up in the garage to ensure the house remained as true to function as possible. The garage office served a second purpose for the development. Connected garages were new and in this case the garage actually had room for two cars, an extreme luxury in 1953. It made the houses stand out from any of their competition and really had not added much in the way of construction cost. The hope was that selling this as an option, the second stall in the garage would substantially augment profits.
A large trench had been cut down the middle of the street. This would provide for laying the first stretch of utilities. A second set of trenches had been cut into the ground spanning off at a 90-degree angle providing sewer, water and natural gas to the individual housing pads that would soon be the new homes for families
. Paul straddled the trench that would ultimately lead to their first model home. While staring at the vacant lot, visualizing the house, “So you really think this can be completed in a few months?” he said to no one in particular.
Lyle and Arlin nodded to William. “You keep the money flowing, I keep on schedule,” replied William.
In private, Paul had had extreme doubts about William’s ability to keep the project moving consistent with their plans. In public, he had been Williams biggest proponent; he prayed he would be up to the challenge. William had grown up a lot since Paul had left for Korea; this would be his first real challenge to manage a big project. Lyle had agreed to split time between the remodeling business and the new home construction to provide William with general contracting and management experience. Paul and Arlin would handle the streets and utilities to keep the city on track.
The sewer, gas, and water pipes were to be delivered later this afternoon with the total section to be completed by the end of the following week. At that time, the trenches could be filled allowing them to begin the process of setting curbs, sidewalks and paving. Laying the driveways would be delayed until house framing was completed for the models.
As of now everything was quiet on the site except for the four men making a final inspection to ensure there were no surprises that could delay the utilities. Piled at the rear of the model home lots were sections of wood that had been sized off site to construct the forms for pouring the concrete foundation. Their newest purchase, a Hough loader/backhoe that had been used to dig the trenches, was now waiting to take a crack at digging the basements for the home foundations.
Although expensive, the Hough was already paying dividends. In one scoop, it did more than a man could do in 10 to 15 minutes and it was a heck of a lot safer since men no longer needed to be in the trenches until they needed to join the pipes. For the basements, Paul and William figured that unless they ran into some big rocks the Hough would be able to cut out each basement in a matter of days. If the Hough worked as well as planned, Paul and Virginia had budgeted the purchase of a second tractor next spring to double their home building capacity if demand dictated.
The only real challenge they were facing was that of the typical Fort Collins spring and summer weather. Late afternoons were marked by some pretty horrendous thundershowers, or hail, or both, pretty much dictating a work stoppage from three to six pm. On rare occasions, they could expect to see a twister funnel reaching to earth. Thank goodness, it was even rarer to have the twister turn into a full-blown tornado.
As such, they had negotiated with the contractors and equipment operators a workday that started at 6:30 in the morning and ended my 3:00. If rain came early preventing additional work, they would still be paid for the entire day but released early. Unfortunately, this did not apply to the primary track of utilities. The Fort Collins Council had demanded the pipe be laid by city workers and, therefore, their hours prevailed. Essentially their work day would start at 9:00 but would still effectively stop around three, unless they were lucky enough to be spared the rain.
They had hoped to construct 25 homes in their first twelve months, selling 22 and keeping three as models. In following 12 months their plans called for an additional 35 homes to be built and sold, with the remaining 42 home to constructed and sold the following year, along with the final sale of the model homes. As part of the process, Paul would pull in Virginia to formally begin their efforts to size and target their next development over the next several months. Paul had planned to complete most of this effort on his own, recognizing Virginia would be mostly consumed just keeping the office and finances running in support of the committed development.
Although he had not discussed a change in the business with Lyle or his Dad, Paul had actually hoped that once their first year was complete, revenues from the new home sales would allow Simmons & Sons to cease their remodeling efforts and focus strictly on new construction, liberating Lyle to focus on the next development with Arlin and Joe. Joe had already effectively turned over the reins for selling the development to his son and was ready for the next challenge. Now that the process had kicked off, Paul’s plans would center on the success of this plot of dirt for the next few years.
* * *
Paul and William had had little time to talk over the past two weeks. Their respective roles had pretty much kept them at opposite ends of town: Paul in the old office, downtown with Virginia, Arlin, and Dad while William was at the building site except for the brief times he popped into the office to pick up work orders and contractor plans for the day. Paul had asked William to join him and Sam this evening for dinner. He felt they had a lot to talk about. In particular, he wanted to let William know how proud he was of how he was managing the housing development construction projects. The development was moving ahead without interruption under a maturity Paul had not realized William possessed. It had given Paul pause to consider making a move he had been contemplating for years and now seemed like the right time. He had enrolled in the business administration program at the newly renamed Colorado State University. With William’s engineering and his business education, they would be a great one-two punch for the family business for their next phase of growth. School would still take a backseat to the business, but Paul was confident that if he could cut his time back with Simmons & Sons to a few days a week, he could complete school almost as a full-time student.
William had been excited at the dinner offer. He relished the fact that it was free and that Sam was a pretty darn good cook; he greedily accepted. The timing was great in that it would also let him share some pretty big news with Paul and Sam, a secret he was busting to tell them about.
Paul had picked up William at Dad’s home shortly after six and they had ridden in silence together to his apartment, neither having prescience as to the other’s news.
Upon opening the front door, Paul called, “Sam, were here and I have some real exciting news to tell you guys over dinner.”
Beyond the small sitting area, they could see Sam sitting at the kitchen with her back toward the front door. She never moved. No “Hi,” no acknowledgment, whatsoever. Something was seriously wrong. Sam stayed still, sitting at the kitchen table facing the window over the sink as Paul entered the Kitchen. William silently trailed behind.
“Hey, hon, you okay? Something the matter?” Paul whispered as he knelt beside her to bring his face close to hers.
Sam turned to face the two brothers, tears streaming from her eyes; the telephone set was sitting in her lap.
“Paul, I think I should go and let you two talk. Let’s touch base tomorrow for breakfast at the Northern café before heading to the building site.” With that William turned to slip back out of the apartment the same way he had come in.
“Stop, William, you may as well hear this now.” Sam’s voice stopped William mid-stride. “You’re going to be the uncle. Paul, you are going to be a Daddy.” At this she smiled at Paul, stood and threw her arms around him. Burrowing her face into his neck she whispered, “You happy?”
To this Paul began to cry. She had never seen Paul cry. William stared in disbelief; he too, had never seen Paul cry. “Hell, yes I’m happy. Happy more than I can say. I’m going to be a Dad!”
“Then I’m happy, too.” Then to William, “Now, William, don’t go blabbing this to Mom and Dad. I want to surprise them.”
“Well, we should go out to celebrate rather than eat in. Sam, I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s going to have to be okay, because I actually forgot to get any dinner started. I’ve been just sitting here imaging what our baby is going to look like and how our lives are going to change. I kind of scared myself.”
With this William said, “Then let’s head out. How about we eat at Nino’s? . . . and Paul, I’ll pay . . . I’m going to be an uncle”
The final comment as is atypical in that William had become almost miserly
since the project had broken ground; he rarely offered to pay for anything. In fact, he had expected he would get stuck with the breakfast tab tomorrow morning. Paul could only assume William had been caught up in the euphoria of becoming an uncle, a nice change.
* * *
Dinner at Nino’s was a treat that the three had rarely had. The restaurant was an authentic Italian haven with pastas, fish, and veal dishes that truly excited the pallets of the typical Fort Collins resident whose only exposure to “authentic” Italian was Chef Boy-Ar-Dee from a can. This was not just a treat, but an experience. The table cloths were crisp and white, their waiter in contrast dressed in a black suit. Flowers adorned the table. The waiter placed a large leather folder on the table at each of their settings. The folder held a menu encompassing massive selection of dishes and antipasti.
The waiter then discretely handed a smaller menu to William for the wine selection. Even though William knew little about wines, he took obvious pleasure in the selection process, reading the brief overview of each wine before settling on the house red, more as a result of price rather than any true taste preference.