Returning Home

by Mary Carmen

  After three weeks the rooms at the Princeton Club were ready. I had spent that time working on my assignments for the book about Octula, and I had been happy to hear from Eliza almost daily.

  I had also written a long message to Anna to tell her the children appeared to be very comfortably settled in Vermont. I sent pictures of Harrison and Siegfried at the new piano and Eliza with Miss Worrell at the entrance to St. Paul’s School.

  On Friday, January 30, 2111, Muzz and I moved to the Princeton Club. I moved to my redecorated rooms and Muzz moved to a smaller room on an upper floor.

  I was so pleased with the furnishings Mr. Eyers had selected that I called the bank to authorize his immediate payment. I realized these furnishing were mine just until they were needed in Wayne County, but I liked the light colors and the matching carpets and draperies.

  Mr. Eyers had also refurbished the bathroom with a self-cleaning tub, sink, and toilet. They cleaned themselves at the same five times every day, and I got used to ordering my life by the sounds of the whirring. If this was the day’s second whirr, it was time for lunch.

  Good news came from Eliza in February. Harrison had been accepted by St. Paul’s School for the following September and General Hsapv had been elected as President.

  Eliza told me she had quickly sent a message to General Hsapv, extending her best wishes and mine, and he had responded within a couple of days with a short note and several pictures of his inauguration. Eliza then sent another message, saying she and I were working on a book about Octula and asking if he could send any previously unpublished pictures of the Great War.

  Imagine my elation when he sent about one thousand pictures of scenes from his own war exploits! These pictures, he told Eliza, were for us to use exclusively until 2115.

  I quickly reorganized my materials on the Great War to highlight General Hsapv’s activities. I used 215 of those pictures in my first draft, and the editor allowed us to keep 176 of them in the first edition.

  In January I also returned to my regular visits to my mother. When I went to her home for the first time after my long visit in Vermont, she smiled at me as if I had never been away. She asked me my name, even though Mrs. Holly, in a rare moment of congeniality, had greeted me with, “Welcome back, Tony.”

  Muzz had made a nuisance of himself in my absence, though. He had brought boxes of candy to place in their sitting room, and other residents became used to visiting while he was there to stock up on the sweets.

  “Well, Muzz,” I sighed, “you’ve spoiled them. We’ll have to shop for candy twice a week now.”

  “I bought a three-month supply just after Christmas at a sale,” he confessed. “I just take the red and green ribbons off the boxes and they look quite fresh.”

  Adam Meets His Grandmother

  In early January of 2111, I called Adam to remind his of his promise to come to Pittsburgh to meet my mother and me.

  “Oh, yes, I was planning to. I’m just so busy with everything,” he said.

  I controlled my response. “I expect you have stopped your work as a waiter?”

  “Well, no, I had my wife cut back on her hours at work instead. Seemed a better plan, what with two children,” he told me.

  “So you are not making progress on your thesis?” I asked.

  “Just so many things to do,” he said.

  Muzz and I discussed Adam’s situation later that day. I was sure Adam was a lazy bum, and Muzz was sure he just had poor work habits.

  “I could find somebody to oversee that thesis,” Muzz said. “Somebody who would meet with him every morning to help him scope out his work for that day.”

  “You mean write the thesis? I have heard of people who do that. I have even heard of thesis advisors who are so sick and tired of fooling around with a doctoral candidate they just take on the thesis themselves.”

  “Not exactly write it. Just keep him on track,” Muzz insisted.

  “You find someone. Then, we’ll see if it will work,” I said.

  Meanwhile, Adam and his family agreed to drive to New Kensington on Sunday, February 28.

  That Sunday morning I received a call from Adam. His car would not start. I told him I would hire a car and it would be at his place within an hour. Muzz called his manager, and a large Chrysler with another Muzz arrived at Adam’s apartment with five minutes to spare.

  Because we had our movie of him from the Pirates’ game in October, I recognized Adam when the family entered the lobby of my mother’s retirement home. The children were unruly, as before, but they visited my mother and ate Muzz’s candy with their parents for about an hour. My mother had no idea who they were, but she was flushed from having such a large number of visitors. As people passed by her door, she cried out for them to enter the sitting room to meet everyone.

  Finally Muzz and I took Adam into my mother’s bedroom for a talk. We explained we had a retired professor in his own discipline who would consult with him about his thesis. Adam would need to report to this man’s home just north of Bradford every morning. I told Adam I had already paid the professor and I expected to get my money’s worth. I expected, I said, to have the doctorate finished by December of 2111.

  Repairing Vermont

  Just after Adam’s visit, I received a complete proposal from Mr. Teddys for repair and upgrade work at the Green Mountain house.

  I had suspected the house was not livable. It had not been shown in Mr. Bygott’s sales film, Mr. Bygott had discussed the quality of the roof but not much else, and Mr. Teddys had told me he suspected the roof covered a multitude of code violations.

  But I was completely stunned by the size of the proposal. Nothing was operable, and nearly everything needed to be replaced.

  The proposal was ordered by the urgency of each repair. As I had suspected, the water pipes were the worst problem. They were original to the house, all in copper that had been patched over and over.

  By 2111 most water pipes were made of a compound that used some of the very platinum that had made me rich, and Rutland County building inspectors would approve nothing else. My pipes were at least four generations of pipe technology out of date.

  In addition, the wiring was not up to code. Modern appliances, should any actually be brought into the house, would have caused the system to short.

  Mr. Teddy’s also listed problems with the floor, the windows, the sump pump, the staircase railing, the porch railing, the basement sealing, and two sections of the rock siding. Neither toilet was able to be flushed, and the bathroom and kitchen sinks were severely stained. Each problem was given a quote for repair, and the total was almost double the price of one of my Wayne County houses.

  Mr. Teddys enclosed a brochure showing several small cabins. He told me he could build one or two cabins from Canadian kits by the start of the summer, but the work on the large house could not be completed until, at the earliest, 2113.

  I took several days to think about what to do with the property, and I showed Muzz the correspondence from Mr. Teddys. Although Muzz had never seen the property, he had looked at my pictures and had agreed the house was charming.

  “Could Mr. Teddys build another house like it, using the stones from the siding and the fireplace?” Muzz asked.

  This seemed like a good plan, but I needed to make some decision quickly so I would have space to entertain Eliza and Harrison during the summer of 2111.

  Muzz suggested I have Mr. Teddys build two small cabins, each with two bedrooms. If those were ready by the summer, the children could visit and we could, together, go over the plans for the new large house.

  I called Mr. Teddys and discussed this option. He agreed to have an architect start to prepare plans for an updated version of the large house, and he said he would order two kits for cabins immediately.

  I wired Mr. Teddys the money for the architect and the two kits. After that expenditure, I had spent just over sixty percent of my fortune, and I had not touched my retirement account.

  Pu
blishing Our Octula Book

  By May of 2111 Eliza and I had completed the draft of the Octula book, and Harrison had assembled the Octulian music into a series of concerts, complete with a written program.

  Jonathan knew a writer who knew an agent who knew a publisher who knew another publisher who wanted large picture-book titles. By the end of May, Eliza had gone to Albany to meet with the publisher and had received an offer for the manuscript.

  “Honey,” I told her, “we don’t need the money. Just make sure the quality of the book and the attached music album are up to your standards. Many people want to travel to Octula, and our book will meet the needs of those who cannot.”

  Eliza was happy a publisher was interested in the book, and her mother had sent some seed money to pay the publisher in a contra-royalty agreement. Eliza and I agreed to repay Anna first and then to share any other earnings equally with Harrison.

  By September of 2111, our book on Octula was available to book buyers, and by Christmas it was a bestseller. By June of 2112 we had repaid Anna and had made a small profit ourselves. Our Octula book was the most popular title about other inhabited planets that year, and tourists’ trips to Octula from Earth redoubled in 2113.

  Visiting the Green Mountains

  In mid-June of 2111, Eliza and Harrison drove to Rutland County to meet Muzz-the-Bald and me.

  Mr. Teddys had the cabins nearly ready, and he had rented temporary houses that we occupied for most of the summer while he installed the last of the cabins’ flooring and light fixtures.

  Mr. Eyres came for a couple of days to look over the property, and he suggested furnishings to Eliza and Harrison for each of the cabins. I sent him back to Pittsburgh with many furniture orders and a huge deposit. He promised the beds would arrive within a week and the rest of the furnishings would be in the houses by Christmas.

  Although Eliza said she was comfortable in the Green Mountains, it was Harrison who really loved the place. He took special interest in selecting his furniture, and he and I found a fine old Steinway baby grand that fit into his cabin. Mr. Teddys designed a winter compartment for the piano so it would not get cold while Harrison was not there. I gave Harrison the keys to his cabin, and I know he continues to use it frequently.

  I also went with Eliza to see an attorney about setting up a family trust for the place. This trust pays all property taxes, insurance, and maintenance for the property, and it insures that only Anna’s descendents are allowed to use it. I put sufficient funds into the trust to allow it to operate for many centuries into the future.

  I told Eliza, “Perhaps I should make the property available to descendents of your grandfather. That way, if any of your uncles have children, they could use the property, too.”

  Eliza shook her head and said, “Father, there will never be any other grandchildren for Poppa. My uncles are sterile.”

  I glared at her and said, “Whoever told you that?”

  “Mother told me. The way Poppa made his initial money on Octula was by exporting some substance that was radioactive. They didn’t take proper care while handling this cargo, and, by the time Mother was a teenager, Poppa and his sons were sterile. I suspect that’s why Poppa was so anxious for Mother to have all these children.”

  I shook my head. “No, Eliza, your mother and I loved each child and were always wondering what the next one would be like. That’s why we had so many children.”

  She was not convinced. “And not because Poppa was building that crazy wing? Or because he planned to leave all that money to you?”

  “Honey, all I wanted was a quiet library where I could read. The crazy wing was your grandfather’s idea of a suitable gift to you and your siblings. I rarely turned on that amazing kaleidoscope. I never swam in that pool. I never looked to the heavens through that observatory. I scarcely glanced at all the expensive art. I never played those pianos or that enormous organ.”

  Eliza was silent for a few moments. Then, she said, “You had the library. Why did you leave?”

  I was taken aback, but I recovered to say, “I expected to spend the rest of my life there with your mother. I left only because she asked me to. I start and end every day with a wish that she will ask me to return.”

  Eliza slowly nodded.

  The Final Building Plans

  Before Eliza and Harrison left the Green Mountains that summer, we reviewed the plans for the replacement of the derelict main house. The drawing contained the great room with the large fireplace and the cozy dining nook. It also contained five bedrooms and five bathrooms. Eliza, Harrison, and I decided it would be a fine place for family gatherings and the cabins would be just right for private visits.

  I instructed Mr. Teddys to begin the new main house and to construct three more cabins. I asked him to connect each cabin to the main house via an enclosed walkway. I gave him a suitable deposit.

  By the end of that summer, I had spent just under eighty percent of my fortune, including the outlay for the trust account and the estimated costs for the completion of the large Vermont house and the cabins.

  Giving Away Wayne County

  In early September of 2111, I called Kenny. He answered after several seconds.

  “Hello, Father. I was wondering when I would hear from you again,” he said, without much enthusiasm

  “I would like to have my chauffeur drive you to the three new houses so you can make your selection,” I told him. “Would this weekend be suitable?”

  “I would prefer early next week, if that can be arranged,” he said. “I told Mother I would take her shopping this weekend.”

  I hesitated. Surely his mother could shop by herself, especially since she had been able to get to the ballpark uninvited the previous October.

  We arranged for Muzz-the-Bald in his red Corvette to pick up Kenny outside the lobby of a Penn Hills hotel.

  I had also made plans with the builder to show the three properties, using the plot plans and the government’s detailed maps of the land. Mr. Johnson had prepared all the materials and had briefed the builder on the points of interest on each property.

  The trip took only one day. Muzz-the-Bald called me at the Princeton Club when he returned to tell me the trip had been made successfully.

  The next day I was awakened by a call from Kenny.

  “All those properties are just beautiful, with the nice views and the spectacular houses,” he began. “I had a hard time deciding, but I would like the one that is westernmost.”

  “I will have Muzz meet you again with the keys,” I said. “I have paid the property taxes into the future, and I will hire the builder to maintain the place as long as I am alive. Then, I will give that property to you in my will. You may have the exclusive use of it from now on.”

  Kenny gushed, “It’s a fantastic gift, much more useful to me than that large house of Mother’s. It’s a place I can use on weekends and in the summers. And I can retire there, too. And plenty of room for guests.”

  “I built the houses with you in mind, Kenny,” I said. “I hope you will be happy there.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?” he asked.

  “Which one did you select for Amanda?”

  Kenny hesitated. “Oh, either one would be fine. There’s really no difference at all.”

  “Goodbye, Kenny.”

  “Goodbye, Father.”

  An hour later I called Amanda to offer her a chauffeur-driven trip to Wayne County for the next weekend.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Ken said he took the best one and I have my choice of his leavings.”

  “I did my best to make sure the three properties were essentially equal in value. Can you meet Muzz at the Penn Hills hotel this Saturday?”

  Amanda agreed, and Muzz-the-Bald found a long stretch Lincoln for the trip in case she brought another person.

  As it turned out, Amanda brought Maude and Maude’s parents. The four passengers sat in the long car and bickered the whole way to Honesdale, according to Muzz.

/>   The builder showed all three properties, again, and pointed out which two were available for Amanda’s selection.

  Amanda called me late that Sunday evening.

  “Yes, I have to concede they are essentially equal,” she began. “What am I going to do with all that space? Whatever were you thinking about when you built that monster of a house? How can I afford to heat it?”

  I explained I had paid the property taxes into the future and I would pay for all repairs until the time she inherited the house. I also told her the house could be shut up for the winter and used only in the summer. Finally, I said Muzz would meet her again to give her the keys.