Silt, Denver Cereal Volume 8

by Claudia Hall Christian

  He couldn’t be happier. The weekend had been fun. The kids didn’t argue. Charlie and Tink didn’t end up putting on a show. Everyone had a great time. Sam and Delphie showed up early Saturday morning from LA and made the weekend with their stories of their red carpet adventures. Last night, the adults stayed up long after the kids were asleep watching the stars under thick wool blankets and drink cocoa.

  He loved having everyone together.

  He loved it when everyone laughed and enjoyed each other.

  He loved that Ivy had a chance to enjoy his father.

  He loved that Delphie got to be with everyone at the farmhouse and go to the premiere.

  The problem was that right now, he hated people.

  Right now, he wanted to be left alone.

  For the briefest moment, he imagined never coming back. He would run to the airport, take a plane to somewhere foreign, and never return.

  Relief coursed through his veins. No more Lipson. No more people telling him what an asshole he was. No more Jill?

  That was always about as far as he got with this little fantasy.

  He stayed because he couldn’t imagine taking even one breath without Jill in his life.

  He stayed because his sons were coming and his daughter was amazing.

  He stayed because that’s who he was.

  He plodded on down the road.

  “The problem is that no one believes you,” Wanda’s father Erik had said. “I mean, who gives away their business these days? Especially to their employees. Today, it’s all about ‘grab what you can and stick it to the next guy.’ I mean, think about it—would you believe it?”

  The words made Jacob so angry that he sped up. He wanted to throttle the cynical world that would rather cling to its own misfortune than see the bounty presented to it. The conversation continued to play in his head.

  “What do they think we’re doing?” Sam had asked.

  “What rich people always do,” Erik had said. “Shift the burden onto little guy while they run away with all the goodies. I mean, look around you? You don’t think people notice the roads are falling apart? The schools suck? People like me drive those roads. Our kids go to those schools. But rich people, they drive on perfect roads and send their kids to schools where the teachers know their kids’ names.”

  Jacob wanted to hate the man. He wanted to blame him for his words. But every cell in his body told him that Erik was honest to a fault. The plumber was telling him what no one else would. He was telling him the truth.

  Jacob ran for a while. Erik had gone on to tell them what they already knew. The men Sam had fired had told everyone that he was selling Lipson Construction because it was broke. The rumor was that the employees were buying at prime rates, but the company was worth only a third of that.

  Jacob snorted. Since taking the larger contract, Lipson Construction was worth almost double what the employees were paying.

  Why didn’t anyone believe him?

  He just couldn’t fathom it. He never lied. He never cheated. And still no one believed him!

  He had come full circle.

  He hated people.

  He wanted to run away.

  He increased his pace to do some speed work. The dogs loped along beside him.

  “Don’t let it get to you, Jake,” Aden had said. “No one believes those jerks.”

  His father had just looked at him. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just watched him with worried eyes.

  Jacob reached a bend in the road and took it to the right.

  He should take the company back. It wouldn’t be hard. He already had the figures from Tres. He’d say he changed his mind. He was allowed to change his mind, wasn’t he?

  He nodded at his reasoning and kept running. Up ahead he saw the Brighton home Valerie had purchased for the Marlowe School. Out of curiosity more than anything else, he ran up to the doorstep. He used his psychokinesis to open the door and went inside.

  This was a gorgeous house.

  The morning son filtered through dusty windows to show off gorgeous woodwork and antique fixtures. Jacob went to the spot where Aden and Seth and the police officers had stood while he and Delphie fought the demon.

  He couldn’t get over how pretty this house was. Feeling something behind him, he turned around. He was standing face to face with an apparition of a woman. She wore a Victorian dress. Her hair was up in the style of the time. She had a pleasant face and pretty eyes. When she realized he could see her, she smiled.

  “Who are you?” Jacob asked.

  “I own this home,” she said.

  “Why aren’t you . . .?” Jacob gestured to where they had laid the family to rest.

  “I love this home,” she said. “You were going to fill it with children and I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Are you stuck here?” Jacob asked.

  “No, thanks to you, we are all free.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t have a lot of time for ghosts,” he said. “And I’m pretty grumpy.”

  “Good to know,” she said. “Why are you here?”

  “I was just out for a run,” he said.

  “Yes, the dogs told me,” she said. “But why are you here? You dropped the house here, and probably haven’t given it another thought. Suddenly, you’re grumpy and here. Why is that?”

  He shrugged. Everywhere he looked, he saw things he could improve. A little buffing here, some color there, sand the floors and . . .

  “You’re making a list of how to improve the house,” she said.

  “What if I am?” Jacob asked.

  “I just wondered—does the wood like it when you sand the floor?” she asked.

  “No idea.” He looked at her.

  “Do walls appreciate the feel of wet, cold paint?” she asked.

  He scowled.

  “Walls and floors are made of the same stuff as people,” she said. “Why would people appreciate the transitions any more than the floors appreciate being sanded?”

  His eyes flicked to her.

  “Maybe, Mr. Tough Guy, you should tell your employees why you’re selling,” she said.

  “So they won’t believe me?” Jacob asked.

  “What if they do?” she asked.

  Jacob squinted at the woman.

  “No, your mother didn’t put me up to this,” she said. “She told me about your situation. I guess . . .”

  She gazed at him and he felt her eyes drift over his sweaty skin. It was such a weird sensation that he shivered.

  “There was so much I never said,” she said. “To my love, my children, my brothers, my sisters, my darling parents. You can hear people’s thoughts. You can read their energy. But people cannot read your thoughts. They can’t read your energy. They can only believe what they hear, and they hear less than half of what they are told.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your family what you thought?” Jacob asked.

  “I wasn’t supposed to,” she said. “When I was alive, women were weak and stupid creatures who didn’t have feelings or thoughts. At least that’s what I was told all my life. It never occurred to me to tell my family how I felt or what I thought. Like you, it never occurred to me that they would care.”

  “Why are you telling me, then?” Jacob asked.

  “Your mother asked me to,” she said. “People will die if you do not move the project. And this . . . problem is nonsense compared to that.”

  “Nonsense?” Jacob asked. “You’re dead and you’re telling me my problems are nonsense?”

  “For an honest man, you tell very few people your truth,” she said. “It’s time to tell your company everything. They know you. They’ll listen.”

  “You’re sure you’re not my mother?” Jacob asked.

  “She is with your sister.” The woman smiled. “But you knew that.”

  The woman faded. Jacob watched her for a moment before moving toward the door. His hand was on the doorknob when she reappe
ared in front of him.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow, you must run with the dogs in the afternoon,” she said. “The little painter needs you in the park.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said.

  “Good,” she said and disappeared.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he whispered.

  At the bottom of the steps, he stopped to look at the house again. Nodding to himself, he ran back to the farmhouse and his life.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Sunday night—9:42 p.m.

  “Yo,” the voice on the phone said.

  “Yeah? Whatchu want?” he responded.

  “Tomorrow, just after the start of b-ball practice, we’re gonna take care of our On-Line problem.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “We all gonna be there,” the voice said. “You?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Two Hundred and Forty-Five

  In the Air

  Monday morning—7:42 a.m.

  “Wasn’t the weekend fun?” Noelle’s bright chatter made Sandy turn to look at her. Sandy gave Noelle a probing look and the girl blushed. Rachel gurgled from her spot on Sandy’s hip.

  “Sissy! We have to go!” Sandy yelled down the hallway.

  “We’re riding our bikes,” Nash said.

  Nash and Teddy walked by her with their bike helmets on. Teddy stopped to smile at Noelle.

  “Good morning,” Teddy said.

  Noelle beamed at him. Teddy glanced at Sandy, and Sandy scowled. He nodded and jogged to catch up with Nash.

  “What’s going on with you and Teddy?” Sandy asked.

  “Nothing new.” Noelle twirled back and forth.

  “Uh huh,” Sandy said. “Sissy if you don’t hurry, we’re going to leave you here. You’ll have to drag all your ballet crap to school yourself.”

  “I’m coming!” Sissy hustled down the hall with a duffle bag full of her dance gear.

  “Charlie!” Sandy yelled from the living room.

  Charlie turned the corner from the kitchen and looked at Sandy.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” Sandy said. “Mike’s not here to walk you to basketball . . .”

  “So Jake’s taking me,” Charlie said. “Yes, I remember from the last forty times you told me.”

  “Good.” Sandy smiled and he scowled.

  “Noelle’s right, you know,” Charlie said. “Last weekend was great.”

  “God, not you too,” Sandy said. “Yes, I know. Young love is in the air.”

  Charlie wiggled his eyebrows and Sandy shook her head at him. Sissy caught up with her and Sandy gave the girls a nudge out the door. She followed Sissy and Noelle down to the enormous SUV. Noelle helped Sissy put her stuff in the back. The girls sat together in the back because Rachel, her diaper bag, and her command-center car seat took up the middle seat. Sandy got into the driver’s seat.

  “Anything you want to talk about, Noelle?” Sandy asked as she started the car.

  “What do you mean?” Noelle asked.

  “She wants to know if you and Teddy did it this weekend,” Sissy said.

  “What?” Noelle looked horrified. “Why would you think that?”

  “You’re all glowy,” Sissy said.

  Sandy turned up Sixteenth Avenue toward East High School.

  “Oh,” Noelle said. “I’m just really happy. I get to spend the afternoon with Teddy’s step-mom and . . . I just feel . . . really happy.”

  “Yeah,” Sandy said. “How’d you get so happy?”

  Sissy giggled and Noelle blushed.

  “I would never betray the trust you place in me and in Teddy by having sex at my age.” Noelle nodded. “We agreed and shook hands and everything.”

  “But?” Sandy asked.

  “I hear the ‘but’ too,” Sissy said.

  “But kissing doesn’t count, does it?” Noelle asked.

  Sissy squealed and laughed. Sandy looked at Noelle in the rearview mirror.

  “What are you doing with Teddy’s step-mom this afternoon?” Sandy asked.

  “We’re going to the park,” Noelle said. “I’m going to paint her portrait. She’s very beautiful. Have you met her?”

  “I have,” Sandy said. “And you’re right, she is very beautiful.”

  Sandy pulled up in front of East High School.

  “Sissy, you remember what Dr. Bumpy said, right?” Sandy asked. “You’ll be super careful?”

  “Ivan’s picking me up at noon,” Sissy said. “I should be gone all afternoon. Then he’s dropping me off at home for dinner. I’ll be with Ivan until I’m home.”

  “You have your phone?” Sandy asked.

  “I promise. I’ll be okay,” Sissy said. “You’ll see. Those guys are just begging to get caught. We’ll laugh at them tonight.”

  Sandy gave a worried nod. Noelle hopped out of the car and helped Sissy carry the heavy duffle bag to the office. Sandy called Tanesha on her iPhone and spoke to her until Noelle came back. Noelle got into the passenger seat.

  “How’s Tanesha?” Noelle asked.

  “Her parents are back from Paris,” Sandy said. “I think she’s a little overwhelmed with them and school and Jeraine, but you know Tanesha.”

  “Tanesha can do anything,” Noelle said. “She’s wonder woman.”

  Sandy gave a slight nod. She started down the East High Esplanade and turned right on Seventeenth Avenue.

  “I wanted to talk to you about . . .” Sandy asked.

  “What’s going on?” Noelle asked.

  “Jake talked to Aden and me last night after you went to bed,” Sandy said.

  “Oh?” Noelle asked.

  “He was warned that something might happen to you today,” Sandy said. “In the park.”

  “I’ll be with Teddy’s step-mom,” Noelle said.

  “You’ll be safe?” Sandy asked.

  Noelle nodded.

  “You have your phone?” Sandy asked.

  Noelle nodded.

  “I just . . .” Sandy started. She pulled into the parking lot of the Marlowe School. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Noelle said. “I won’t be reckless. I promise.”

  Noelle grabbed her backpack and got out of the car. Sandy watched her go inside the building before getting Rachel from the back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was going to happen. Sandy shook her head at herself. Her past was not Noelle’s present. She hoped.

  Sandy cuddled her baby for a moment before taking her into the nursery. She chatted with Anjelika and went back out to the car. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Sandy nodded to herself.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Sandy said out loud.

  Anxiety shot through her gut. Sandy scowled and started the car.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Monday mid-day—12:05 p.m.

  Jacob cleared his throat and walked to the front of the room. The site managers had gathered everyone for a noon meeting. In order to avoid confusion, they were waiting to distribute lunch until Jacob had finished talking. As he walked, he saw men and women he recognized. Some had worked for his parents. Some he’d hired himself. Rodney touched his shoulder in a gesture of support as Jacob passed.

  “I apologize for disrupting your day,” Jacob said. “I called this meeting because I have a few things to say, and we as a company need to make some decisions. I am going to speak for a few minutes, and then we’ll have lunch. My father, Aden, Blane, and Tres are in the back. They will be available to answer your questions until the end of the hour.”

  He looked out at the employees in front of him and smiled.

  “I’m sure you’re aware of the tension that’s developed within our company,” Jacob said. “I realized this weekend that some of the strain stems from the fact that you don’t know why my father, Valerie, and I are selling Lipson Construction.”

  He saw heads instinctively move up and down.

  “My mother and father started this company
,” Jacob said. “They ran it out of our basement. As some of you remember, Val and I worked every day after school and all summer. I can’t tell you how many nights, weekends, birthdays, and dinners one or the other of my parents missed because they were on a backhoe, writing up a bid all night, or just trying to make ends meet. My father worked side carpentry jobs to support the company the entire time I was in grade school. And then something miraculous happened: Denver needed a new airport, and we got the bid.”

  Jacob nodded.

  “My family had a lot of problems,” Jacob said. “And my mother died.”

  Jacob’s voice caught with emotion. He could never utter the words without feeling his heart squeeze.

  “And Lipson continued to grow,” Jacob said. “My mother’s dying wish was that the people who had made Lipson Construction great—her employees—could one day reap the benefits of their hard work. It was her dream, what she wanted.”

  “That’s exactly right!” Bambi yelled out from the back.

  “Told me that herself,” Jerry said.

  “It’s taken a long time,” Jacob said. “My father was plagued with people who wanted to gut the company for its cash value. I bought most of the company from him and have been fighting with the same men ever since.”

  Jacob swallowed hard.

  “It comes down to this: They don’t want you to own this company,” Jacob said. “They don’t want you to own any company.”

  “No, they do not!” DeShawn yelled out.

  “They want the money that selling this company to the highest bidder will bring them,” Jacob said. “As you’ve learned in the last six months, there’s a lot more to running a company than making money.”

  There was a general rumble of people agreeing with him.

  “We believe the company should belong to you,” Jacob said. “And we want you to be successful. But if I had allowed people to buy the entire company at the very beginning, like some of the more vocal employees have proposed, it would have failed within a year. That’s what has happened to every single company in which employees have assumed one hundred percent ownership right away. This company, any company, really, is too complicated. By slowly selling shares, we hold the responsibility and risk while you learn the ropes.