Lawn Boy Returns

by Gary Paulsen

  Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go inside, sit down and talk.”

  They sat quietly and listened. As for me, hearing myself say it all out loud, one horrible fact after another, was almost too much. Even having resolved the Zed thing, and working as I was to fix the Bruiser situation, I felt like there were just too many problems. It would take a million years to make everything quiet and smooth like before. And I was never going to get to ride my bike again, no matter how many new inner tubes I could afford.

  Dad said, “We’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”

  Mom took my hand and patted it. “Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, dear.”

  “We’ll talk to Arnold and the tax people and the lawyers and figure this out.” Dad looked confident.

  “I’m sure it’s just a matter of explaining to the right people,” Mom said.

  How could they be so serene and matter-of-fact about these disasters? Had I told the story right? My parents should have freaked out. That was what I was doing.

  I wanted to run away.

  No. Wait.

  It was time to do some thinking.

  16

  Accumulation of Wealth Through Inheritance

  So I went to the garage to sit on my lawn mower.

  Only I was too riled up to sit. I kicked the tires and I pounded the seat. In fact, I hit the seat so hard that I loosened something, which fluttered to the ground.

  A small plastic bag had been duct-taped to the underside of the seat. I stared at it for a few seconds before ripping open the plastic. A folded paper fell out.

  A ship is safe in the harbor, but that’s not why ships are built.

  This was written in clean block letters, perfectly formed, the way a kindergarten teacher would print. Or the way a man who always took good care of his tools would print. Clear and sharp.

  My grandfather.

  What did ships have to do with lawn mowers, and why would he go to the trouble to write this sentence down and then carefully hide it underneath the seat? I had suddenly found a clue to a scavenger hunt I didn’t know I had joined.

  I climbed back on the lawn mower to study the … proverb, I guess you’d call it. It sounded familiar.

  It sounded like Grandma.

  I did what I do when she says stuff I don’t understand—I sat back and waited for the meaning to become clear.

  I waited.

  And I waited some more.

  I waited just a tad longer.

  Finally, I realized that my heart wasn’t pounding and my breathing had slowed down. I didn’t feel like yelling or kicking or pounding anymore.

  I still felt like running away, though.

  Away.

  Had Grandpa been trying to tell me to run away to sea? I hoped not, because I get seasick really easily and, from what I hear, boats seem to require endless repairs and maintenance, and I was already at the edge of my performance envelope making sure the lawn mower had enough gas and oil. I’m just not machine oriented.

  Sailing didn’t sound particularly calming and soothing to me, at least not now. Maybe when I was older.

  There must be another purpose to this note from Grandpa.

  The words sounded simple and wise and wonderful. And I was all for those qualities coming to stay with me for a while.

  I never really knew my grandfather, but the lawn mower had come from him. He’d gotten me into this situation, and I hoped this was his way of getting me out.

  Maybe the meaning of the message wasn’t in what he said, but in how he said it, and he was telling me to keep things simple.

  If I was being honest, I’d have to admit he hadn’t gotten me into this situation—I’d gotten myself into it. And I needed to get myself out. And do what I felt was right for me and my family.

  I took a deep breath and got off my lawn mower. I wiped it down, making sure to remove clods of dried mud and clumps of grass from the undercarriage and chipping the dried dirt off the pictures of the rabbit and the turtle. The lawn mower had seen better days, but in the dim light of the overhead bulb in the garage, it seemed to glow.

  Then I went back into the house to speak to Mom and Dad and Grandma about what we needed to do to shift our lives back to turtle mode.

  17

  Leadership for Social Change and Renewal

  I called a staff meeting for first thing the next morning. Arnold, Pasqual, Louis, Benny, Joey, Gib, Savannah, Frank, Lindy, Kathy, Kenny, Allen, Rock, Mom, Dad and Grandma crammed into Arnold’s screened-in porch.

  I stood up at the table and cleared my throat.

  “I’m just a simple working man. I’m not even a man. I’m just a kid who wanted to make enough money this summer to buy a new inner tube for his bike.”

  They all stared up at me. Gib was taking notes for report he’d later write and share with the team.

  I hoped he didn’t miss a word.

  “I can’t do this anymore—too many employees, tax problems, lawsuits, greedy fake relatives, interviews and autograph seekers. I’m sick of it.”

  I took a deep breath and faced Arnold. “I’m out.”

  I heard a gasp from Kathy. And then she started thumb-typing on her BlackBerry, no doubt canceling the appearances she’d set up. Everyone else was silent.

  “Give Pasqual and Louis and Benny the lawn service. Do what you need to do so that Joey finds another sponsor or make sure he has enough money so he doesn’t need a new one. I don’t want franchises and endorsements and publicity anymore, so we need to find Kathy and Gib and Frank other jobs. Let Savannah and Lindy and Arnold focus on their other clients. Shut down the whole thing. Cash out and put the money in some fund that I can’t touch until college.

  “I’m done. I quit.”

  No one said anything. No one blinked. Even Kathy had stopped texting.

  “My mom and dad and I talked last night. We’re going up north to a little place they found on the lake until school starts in a couple of weeks. I’m going to ride my bike, have some kind of summer vacation that’s not about work and money and craziness.”

  My parents and Grandma were the only ones smiling at me.

  “I can’t thank you all enough for all the good work you’ve done, especially you, Arnold. This whole thing was because of you—not the bad parts, of course, but all the money and the expansion and the staff. You did an amazing job. All of you did. But I’m twelve years old and I just want to have a summer vacation.”

  Grandma said, “It’s no use carrying an umbrella if your shoes are leaking. And, hon”—she winked—“no one can ever blame a man for following his own heart and making the decision he knows is right. A ship is safe in the harbor …”

  18

  The Theorem of What Comes Next

  We were packed and out of the house later that morning. We discovered that Zed had come back while we were out and taken the china he’d used for his party and most of Mom’s good towels, which he’d used after his showers (we honestly didn’t want those back). He’d also taken the easy chair, the big television from the den and every single battery, flashlight and lightbulb in the house, as well as the contents of the deep freeze in the garage.

  The only hassle was getting my lawn mower hitched to the back of our car. I couldn’t see leaving it behind.

  We settled into the cabin in no time flat. Mom spent a lot of time reading, and Dad got the shed set up so he could work on inventions, and I made a couple of new friends. We hung out at the frozen custard stand and they came over to fish with me.

  The cabin came with a small sailboat tied to the end of the dock, so I was teaching myself to sail. After about the twelfth time I tipped over or got stuck in the middle of the lake waiting for the wind to come up and blow me back to shore, I wondered: Would I have attempted to learn about the sailboat if I hadn’t found the note from Grandpa?

  I didn’t hear from anyone who’d been at that last staff meeting except Grandma. How come? Were they all so busy dismantling operations that they di
dn’t have time to get in touch, or were they all mad at me and did they never want to talk to me again?

  Life had become quiet and peaceful, and I felt like hundreds of pounds of pressure had been lifted from my shoulders. I told myself I wasn’t the kind of guy who was meant to be rich. That I didn’t need the money and I could live without it just fine.

  I missed the work, though. I felt weird, kind of guilty, sleeping in every morning, and all day long I kept checking my watch, as if I had a yard to get to. And I wondered what everyone was doing. I had a tough time falling asleep every night too. Now that I wasn’t exhausted all the time, sleep didn’t come as easy and deep as it had.

  I started to count the days until we could get back home and I could start school. I didn’t even mind the prospect of facing trig.

  Grandma showed up for dinner the second week. She brought me an old-fashioned hand-cranked ice cream machine and said, “There’s no need to fear the wind if your haystacks are tied down.”

  I was getting better at translating Grandma-speak and asked, “Was this Grandpa’s too?”

  “Yes. Your grandpa loved ice cream. He always said no one ever matched his vanilla kumquat recipe, which just goes to show that wooden shoe trees don’t help a bit when it’s time to vote.”

  “Ah, yes, well …” I was studying the crank and wondering where to find instructions for making ice cream by hand. I’d noticed that the lakeside town up the road didn’t have a decent ice cream parlor.

  I started to get that buzzy itch in the back of my head like when I first started the lawn business. Kenny and Allen could come up with us next summer, and if we could start a little stand near the town square …

  19

  The Axiom of Shifting Paradigms

  I was fishing off the edge of the dock outside our cabin the day we were going to head back home. The sun had just come up and the lake was smooth and still.

  “Far-out place you’ve got here.”

  Arnold.

  I turned and saw him standing at the top of the dock. Short and round and dressed in one of those awful outfits from way back when—bell-bottom pants and a sports coat with enormous lapels.

  And easily one of the best things I’ve ever seen in my whole entire life.

  He smiled and kind of waved when our eyes met and then he walked down to sit next to me, our legs hanging over the side of the dock.

  “I thought you’d be angry with me. Or disappointed,” I told him.

  “Not at all. I blame myself, if you want to know the truth. I kept forgetting you were only twelve and I put responsibilities and obligations on you and made you vulnerable to all sorts of issues and problems that would break a grown man. I just got so caught up in the beauty of the system and how groovy it was all working out.”

  “What”—the words caught in my throat—“what happened to everyone? I’ve been worried about how I left things and if they could all find new jobs.”

  “That’s what I came to tell you.” Arnold smiled. “I kept them all on for my business.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not the only one who benefited from the media exposure and financial success, you know.”

  “Oh, sure.”

  “I made the same investments with my money that I did with yours so that we had the same risk and, as it turned out, the identical rewards, too. I’ve been drawing a commission from your stock and bond transactions in addition to the other consulting and investment work I’ve always done. Pasqual and the rest of the crew and Joey Pow and the office staff all invest with me. I’ve been conservative, in this market, but even so they’re not hurting for additional sources of income on top of salary and wages.”

  “I’m glad to hear that things are working out.”

  “I’m going to buy that building downtown. I’ll take up the top floor and I’ll rent two offices to Savannah and Lindy. And I’ll rent out the other two floors to an architecture firm and a graphic design company. A nice income from rent.”

  “That’s wonderful. How’re Pasqual, Louis, Benny and the rest of the guys? I’ve been worrying about them now that fall is coming. No more lawn mowing.”

  “PLB, Inc. PLB, of course, stands for Pasqual and Lawn Boy.” He smiled again when he saw my face light up. “The company is doing really well. Not only did the publicity increase the demand for their lawn services, but they’re going to expand into snowplowing in the winter months. They’ve purchased their first two plows and have three more on order.”

  “Ahh. It’s all taken care of….”

  “Wait. There’s more: They insisted that you continue to collect your percentage on the business earnings. So you have remained a silent partner in the expanded operations. They believe it wouldn’t be right to go on without you. Every member of the team voted to keep you on and honor your efforts by adding your name to the company.”

  “Wow. I had no idea. I don’t know what to say.”

  “They’re good men. Hard workers. Loyal. They know about respect and honor and standing to with their friends.”

  “How’s Joey?”

  “Your grandmother hasn’t told you her news?”

  I shook my head. Grandma had news? And had kept it to herself? Well, maybe she’d thought she told me when she started talking about how you trim a cat’s toenails.

  “In the heat of the moment, I forgot to tell you that she had given me forty dollars to invest awhile back, and, well, luck with investments sure does run in your family. We’ve turned that modest amount into quite a little nest egg. Nothing along the lines of what you’ve made, of course—that would be impossible. But enough so that she can have some fun.”

  “What kind of fun?”

  “Joey Pow kind of fun. She’s his new sponsor. And she hired Rock to take over as his manager. They arrange his bouts, set up his travel plans and work with his trainers to make sure he’s in top physical shape. She’s training too, in a modest way, and she’s gotten a new lease on life. Joey is very happy. Those two have a unique connection. They’re good for each other.”

  “Yeah, I guess they are.”

  “Oh, and speaking of Joey: He found out that you found out that Zed had threatened your grandmother. He was very upset that his sponsor had been worried and, suffice it to say, Zed’s threat has been terminated.”

  “Just the threat, right? Joey didn’t, you know, actually … terminate … Zed?”

  “There was some head pinching, and Zed won’t be able to eat solid foods for three to six weeks, but there isn’t any lasting physical damage. The psychological afteraffects might be permanent. Which would be good. In the meantime, Joey hired Zed so he could supervise him like he did Rock, because he says it’s important to keep your friends close and your not-friends even closer.”

  “Joey is brilliant. He’s good people, too.”

  “How are you?” Arnold asked me. “Everything groovy up here for you and your folks?”

  “This is the greatest place. I’m really glad my folks bought it.”

  “That’s something I should explain. Because they have powers of attorney, your parents can withdraw from your accounts to provide adequate housing for you while you are a minor. So this cabin is yours, free and clear. They bought it for you.”

  “I own the cabin?”

  “And the entire lake.”

  “I own a lake?”

  “Yes, and a few acres surrounding the shoreline.”

  “What about those little cabins on the other shore?”

  “They’re part of the resort. Your resort.”

  “I own a resort?”

  “Yes, you do. A very small one. Turns out if we’d simply cashed out of the market and put the money in savings, we would have taken a tax hit that I found unacceptable. Your parents agreed that reinvesting in property was the right thing. You didn’t lose money, but this kind of investment won’t add the same kind of pressure that the stock market put on you.”

  “So … wait … I’m still making mon
ey from the lawn care business and now there’s going to be more money from the snowplow business and I own a resort?”

  He nodded and smiled.

  “And everybody’s job is safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the audit and the frozen assets?”

  “I told you that Lindy and Savannah were the best in the business. They made those problems disappear. We’d always kept impeccable books, and once the situation was laid out in full for the tax office, we were A-OK.”

  “How about the guys who told Joey to throw the fight?”

  “Remember the lawyers who wanted you to sue everyone?” I flinched and nodded. “Well, they’re filing injunctions right and left, tying all those guys up in red tape. Those guys are too busy to scheme. Plus, they’re in a world of trouble with the tax people. It’s going to take them a lot of time and money, maybe some jail time, to resolve all these issues. The legal system can be, at times, groovy.”

  “That’s cool.”

  He pulled a small notebook out of his jacket pocket.

  “You’ve always given me a free hand with your investments and trusted me to have your best interests at heart.”

  “Of course.”

  “I hope you’ll agree with the decisions I made on your behalf. I kept reinvesting the money; I’m a stockbroker and it goes against everything I stand for to drop out of the game when it’s going so well. Frankly, I can’t understand it, but no matter what happens elsewhere in this crazy market, your investments continue to do well.”

  “Am I still rich?”

  “Yup. And your parents and I set up a trust fund. You can’t touch it for any reason, not even to give it away, until you’re twenty-five. The money is safe and making interest for you. Plus, there’s the college fund. And your retirement plans. All immutable—that means you can’t change them. And untouchable.”