Beneath the Palisade

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Beneath the Palisade Page 20

by Joel Skelton


  Harper, I’d throw every cent I had into this idea.

  “I can deal with the price. That won’t be a problem. Don’t feel bad about your contribution. Look at it this way. I have the money up front, and you bring your wonderful landscaping skills, which I don’t have. Trust me, hon, it’s an equal trade-off.”

  “Okay.” Ian saw the logic in Harper’s reasoning, but it didn’t matter. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling of inadequacy. Even as a kid he had worked hard at establishing his own financial independence. The paper route, picking up the odd job here and there; if there was a penny to be made, he went after it. Faced with no other option, he was forced to trust Harper meant what he had just said. He’d compensate by working his ass off on the property.

  “The other thing, I think I could get into the office bookkeeping angle of the business. The publicity. I think I’d enjoy that. And talk about placing the cart before the horse, but maybe we vacation somewhere during the long winter. Someplace warm. How’s it sound so far?”

  “How’re the potpies? You guys doin’ okay?” Alex, suddenly appearing at their table, seemed anxious for an opinion.

  “I don’t know how they could be any better. Delicious.” Harper smiled.

  “Compliment the chef for us. These could be addicting,” Ian added.

  “It’s Audrey, the owner. I think she said hi when you walked in. She comes in early and makes them from scratch. She also makes all the pies and muffins.”

  He’s proud. He’s proud and not afraid to show it. “Tell me, have you worked here a long time, Alex?”

  “This is my fourth season. Pretty much all through high school.”

  “Let me do the math.” Harper wiped his chin with his napkin. “Did you graduate this year?”

  “Yeah.” Alex grinned. “I thought I’d never make it. Are you guys….”

  “Together? On vacation?” They completed Alex’s question in unison.

  “We’re thinking of maybe moving up here. At least for part of the year. Good idea? Bad idea?” Harper looked over and winked. “Give it to us straight, Alex.”

  Give it to us straight? Why the hell would he do that?

  “If you haven’t spent any time here before, I guess it’s pretty cool.”

  “A waiter and a diplomat.” Harper chuckled. “Very good.”

  “Well, I’ll let you guys finish up. If you have room for dessert, Audrey makes a killer banana cream pie. Just let me know.”

  They both watched as Alex retreated into the kitchen.

  “What a little sweetie. Hey, do you think he was fishing, you know, to find out about us?” Harper was serious.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Binky? He knows. He knows.” They roared with laughter.

  “Hey, Tiffany’s back. She just pulled into the parking lot.” He slammed a huge forkload of potpie into his mouth.

  “Well, slugger, what do you think? Feel like owning some cabins?”

  “Nothing’s forever, right?” Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever expected to be a resort owner. Andy is going to shit!

  “Right. So….” Harper held out.

  “Will you be staying with us for one or two nights?” Ian bellowed for everyone to hear.

  HARPER found it almost impossible to relax. There were too many ifs floating around, and they all hinged on whether or not their offer on the Palisade Beach Cabins was accepted. Almost every aspect of the after-dinner conversation was prefaced with some type of qualifier regarding it. An agonizing week had passed and still no word from Tiffany. Jazzed to make this happen, he and Ian had decided to offer the seller exactly what he was asking. He had spent the day after giving her the green light crafting a proposal, using many of Ian’s preliminary landscaping ideas to communicate to the seller their intent to adhere to his wishes. Choosing his wording carefully, he hoped the document would demonstrate a respect for the property and its natural beauty, outline some of their ideas, and alleviate any fears the seller might have.

  Despite a growing concern their offer might be rejected, they both had a good week. Ian continued his hitting streak, delivering a three-run homer in the ninth to give the Hornets a seven-five win over the Greasy Axles, a team made up of area car mechanics. If Ian was experiencing any remorse at the idea of relocating to the North Shore, he wasn’t displaying any outward signs. If anything, he seemed to be growing more anxious and pumped every day.

  The deep ache he’d experienced in his arm since the shooting had vanished this week. Wednesday morning he’d gotten out of bed anticipating the pain he’d come to expect while getting dressed, but to his surprise, it was no longer there. Throughout the day he had put the arm through various tests, and despite what he did, the pain refused to acknowledge itself. He couldn’t tell if it was the excitement surrounding the cabins or another signal from his body, but his energy was back to normal too. The biggest achievement of the week—Knock on wood!—was that he hadn’t experienced a single bad dream. Bite me, Phyllis!

  “It’s magical back here.” Allison surveyed the yard in wonderment. “The lighting, I could sit here all night. The sound from the water is so soothing.”

  With everything going on, this was the first chance he and Ian had had to show off the new backyard. Wow, does it ever feel good to have friends over to your own house. With what little social life he’d had before Ian, it had never once occurred to him to host something on his own. Just didn’t feel right, and of course, his yard used to really suck. Thank you, Ian.

  “Hey, hon?” Spencer leaned over and pecked his wife on the arm. “When we get home, let’s haul the futon out to the yard. Sleep under the stars, what do you think?”

  “I love the romantic in you, sweetie. But somehow, it wouldn’t be the same.”

  “You guys are welcome to stay here if you want. Harper, we’ve got an air mattress somewhere. Do you remember where we put it? I brought one over from the apartment. And we have sleeping bags.” Ian was trying his hardest to feed into their dream.

  “Seems to me it went into the basement. Seriously, you’re more than welcome to it. Say the word.” Harper, restless, stood up and stretched. Eager for a task that would take the cabins off his mind.

  “Hon?” Spencer provided another “please” peck to her shoulder.

  “Naw,”—Allison reached for her husband’s hand—“every time I agree to something like this, I regret it. Besides, I’ve had a few mosquitoes bite me on the ankle. I bet they get worse as the night goes on. I don’t do mosquitoes.”

  “Me either. I know size doesn’t matter, but the dicks on those bugs are so damned small.” Andy, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all night, suddenly came to life, cracking everyone up.

  “If anyone would know, it’d be you,” Spencer lobbed back, inciting more laughter.

  Harper felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t given much thought to how their move might affect these guys. Realizing Andy had been so quiet all night, it occurred to Harper he would have the biggest adjustment to make. He’d be losing daily contact with his best friend. Did Ian worry about him? Had the two talked this out?

  “Another round?” Ian stood, stretching his arms out to the world. “Allison, we’ve got butter shots.”

  “All right already with the butter shots. A girl messes up one time and she never lives it down.” Allison had been raked over the coals for her butter shot binge at Merle’s and had reached the saturation point.

  “Okay, you’re right. It’s time to put that bad boy to bed.” Ian collected some bottles from the table. “Wine cooler?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Allison looked over to Spencer. “If I do, I’ll never get up. Spencer and I are finally going to tackle the garage tomorrow. There’s been a rash of car break-ins in our neighborhood, and I need to get my car off the street.”

  “Sadly, it’s the threat of our stuff getting screwed over that’s motivating us. The thought of a clean, organized garage isn’t enough.” Spencer downed his beer.


  “How about you, Andy? Up for another beer?” Harper strolled over and patted him on the shoulder.

  “I’d love to, but I’d better get going. The garden center has been really busy lately.”

  “Okay, party poopers.” He knew he’d be able to talk Ian into another glass of wine when everyone had left. “Don’t leave before I run these bottles in and pee. Be right back.”

  The gang had moved toward the gate when Harper returned to the backyard. Ian was explaining some aspect of the water feature to Spencer. Allison and Andy were talking a few feet away.

  “Thanks, you guys,” Allison said after he crossed the yard. “Great food, great friends. Another perfect night.” She made the rounds with hugs and kisses.

  “It was our pleasure.” Harper moved around and unlatched the gate leading out to the driveway.

  “Andy, if you get in a bind tomorrow, give me a call.” Ian followed the group out the gate, wrapping his arm around Harper’s waist.

  “Thanks, but unless someone calls in sick, I should be okay. It was a great night, you guys.” Andy hugged them both.

  “I don’t want to go in yet, do you?” Harper asked once everyone had sped away into the night.

  “No, these nights are priceless. I love it when the heat sticks around after the sun goes down. It’s one of my favorite things about summer.” Ian kissed his neck.

  “Wine or beer?” he asked when they had returned to the patio.

  “I better stick with beer. You running?” Ian pinched his butt.

  “Ouch.”

  On his way back with cold beers, his phone went off. “I wonder who this could be?” Setting the bottles on the table, he fished it out from his pocket. “Harper Callahan.”

  “Hey, Harper, it’s your night owl realtor, Tiffany. How’s it going?”

  He laughed. “We just said goodbye to friends.”

  “I guess that’s what normal people do on a Friday night, have friends over. Me, on the other hand, I spend it chained to my desk because I was stupid enough to go after a real estate license. Boo hoo.”

  “Well, I bet you get plenty of Mondays off.” Harper bit his tongue.

  “Always looking on the bright side, you are.” Tiffany chuckled. “I have news.”

  “Tiffany, I’m going to hand the phone over to Ian. Hang on.”

  “Harper, what are you doing?” Ian reluctantly accepted the phone. “Hey, Tiffany, how’s it going?”

  From the first words out of her mouth, Harper knew she’d received an answer from the seller. Unless he’d lost his knack at decoding subtext, he wanted Ian to hear what she had to say first.

  “Harper, she heard from the seller.” Ian began pacing around the table as he listened.

  Old Tiffany was having some fun with this one. Ian had completed several tours before he put the phone to his chest and hollered out, “He accepted our offer!”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  Ian continued his journey around the table until Harper intercepted, wrapping his arms around him from behind.

  “Perfect. We’ll discuss all of that and call you after the weekend. Thanks so much, Tiffany. We’re thrilled. Bye!”

  “Are we thrilled?” He nestled his nose into his handsome landscaper’s neck. Several seconds passed, and Ian began to shake. “Ian?” He released his grip and turned Ian around in his arms. “Oh honey, you’re cry-happy, aren’t you?”

  Ian nodded, melting into his arms.

  “What else can we tackle in less than six months? Should we see if we can adopt a kid too?”

  “God no.” Ian giggled, wiping the tears from his face. “Man, we must be setting some kind of record here.”

  “You aren’t kidding. I can see it now—boy meets boy, they fall in love. Talented garden boy turns untalented attorney boy’s backyard into a paradise….” Harper paused to undo the button of Ian’s shorts, letting them fall to his ankles.

  “Garden boy has the pants charmed off of him by brilliant attorney boy,” Ian picked up the thread where he’d left off, “but before brilliant attorney boy knows what he’s gotten himself into….” Ian whipped off Harper’s T-shirt with one hand and attacked his shorts with the other. “Garden boy has his way with him in the backyard because….”

  “Because why?” Harper giggled.

  “Because garden boy is the master!”

  Harper made a run for it but stumbled out of his own shorts, crashing onto the grass with Ian on top of him.

  “Stop!”

  “Not on your life.” Ian planted wet, sloppy kisses all over him.

  “Ian, stop that! It tickles.”

  Ian had him pinned on the grass. “I love you so much, Harper.”

  “I can’t imagine anymore what my life was like without you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, Ian.”

  Lying on the cool grass, they held on to each other, panting from their love wrestle, until Ian rolled over on his knees and tugged Harper’s boxers down to his ankles.

  “Hey!”

  “I hope,” Ian said with a mischievous grin, “you still think that in the morning when I scrub the grass stains off of your ass.”

  THE drab conference room provided a stark contrast to Ian’s festive mood. Everything—the cheap blinds, the plastic chairs and table, the dull white walls and tan linoleum—reminded him of one of those scuzzy computer learning centers in a suburban strip mall.

  “We’ll wait a few more minutes, and then I’ll start calling around. Did you guys have a nice weekend?” Tiffany, anxious to get the signing process underway, reorganized her paperwork.

  Ian was anxious too. He and Harper had gotten up early so they could have breakfast on the way up. They chose a truck stop outside of Pine City and were not disappointed. With a hearty breakfast under their belts and all of the “do you think this is the right thing to do” discussions argued and analyzed, neither was experiencing any apprehension with their decision. Like their blossoming relationship, everything about buying the Palisade Beach Cabins felt right. This had the potential to be one of the biggest days of their lives together. Provided the seller showed up.

  “Who suggested the meeting time?” Harper checked his watch, leaning back in his plastic bucket chair.

  “The seller.” Tiffany reached for her phone.

  In the process of dialing, she stopped when a middle-aged man wearing a checkered sport coat and white slacks entered the room followed by a woman with an armful of documents. “Sorry we’re late. I’m Forest. Forest Criberts, representing the seller. He’s in the bathroom.”

  “Hello, I’m Missy Talbert from Tundra Title. It’s my fault we’re running late. I had some last minute glitches with the paperwork.”

  “Let’s wait until the seller joins us to finish introductions.”

  The slight tone of annoyance in Tiffany’s response was meant to admonish the other parties for making her party wait. Ian couldn’t help but notice the difference in energy levels between the two groups. Forest could easily have just crawled out of bed. Missy, well, he wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t exactly a bundle of energy either. Tiffany, a veritable Formula One, sat patiently at the starting line, revving her engine. Ian chuckled—an image of Forest attached to jumper cables popped up out of the blue.

  “What’s so funny?” Harper reached over and flicked Ian’s shoulder.

  “Ah, nothin’.” He was used to not being able to share his images with the world. Not only were they hard to explain, but for some unexplainable reason, the translation almost always seemed to get lost.

  “Come on.” Harper flicked him again.

  He chuckled. Just let it go, Harper.

  “Someone’s excited, I think.” Tiffany shared a wink with Harper.

  “Sorry, folks. I hope I haven’t kept you all waiting too long.”

  Ian was thankful to have the focus shifted away from his meaningless visual to the seller, who appeared in the doorway looking like…. It’s Santa Claus wearing rainbow suspenders.
My word.

  “There he is.” Forest rose out of his chair. “This is Floyd Hutchins, the seller.”

  “Nice to meet you, Floyd. I’m Tiffany Marks.” Tiffany stood and shook his hand. “I represent the buyers, Harper Callahan…”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Harper stood and initiated a handshake.

  “… and Ian Burke.”

  Ian bypassed any verbal exchange, choosing instead a hearty nod to accompany his shake.

  “Okay.” Not unexpectedly, Tiffany took the lead. “There’s a lot of signing to do, so let’s get going.”

  “You boys have your work cut out for you.” The seller took a chair directly across the table from Harper.

  Floyd obviously needed to connect. As big a day as it is for us, Ian thought, it’s probably an even bigger day for him. The end of an era.

  “Miss, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

  It took a few seconds for Tiffany to disengage and look up from the mounds of paperwork before her. “Tiffany,” she answered dryly.

  “Tiffany, if you would be so kind, let me have a minute to say a few things before we whiz bang through all of the official business.”

  “Ah… sure.”

  Ian detected a hint of impatience. She folded her hands on top of her papers and sat back. You could almost hear her engines idling.

  “Rosie and I weren’t much older than you boys when we bought the property the cabins sit on.”

  It was clear, looking over at Floyd’s realtor and Missy from the title company, that his story had already made the rounds. Perhaps as recently as the ride over in the car. Add to it, Ian thought, he wasn’t the easiest guy in the world to look at. Like a poorly kept yard, there were weeds popping up and out of cracks all over Floyd. And those rainbow suspenders. I wonder what old Floyd would think if he found out he was sportin’ the universal brand for all things gay. Ian covered his mouth with his hand, fearing the potential to appear disrespectful was too great.

  “We never went into it with cabins in mind. Nope.” Floyd laughed. “After owning the land for a few years, we saved up enough to start to develop it. And you know what we did?”

 

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