https://www.literotica.com/s/money-well-spent-1 Chapter 1 I smiled as I heard her complaining. She had been accosted by a homeless man, wanting a few dollars for bus fare, and she felt so bad she had given him a five, only to see him go into a Seven Eleven and buy a pack of cigarettes. He came out tapping the pack, looked up, saw her, gave a sheepish grin, and walked down the street. 3 "Well, damn, Jen, what did you expect?" I asked, tired of her telling the story for the fifth time. "These guys are hustlers, mostly veterans of years of street living. They know how to work people, especially young, gullible women. Most times, anything you give them goes up in smoke, in their arm, or into a bottle. You really think you're helping?" 4 She gave me that stubborn look I'd come to know. "Yes, I think I'm helping. I have to believe that there's good in people. If I didn't, my world would be a little too grim." 5 "Like mine, you mean? I'm older than you, honey, seen more of the worst side of life than I hope you ever do in your lifetime. One thing I've learned is that people will sink to the lowest level very easily. Anything could trigger it. PTSD(I had a little knowledge of that), divorce, death of a loved one, bad accident, loss of employment, any traumatic event, the list is pretty long. You want to help these people? Give them directions to the nearest shelter or soup kitchen. If they're vets, send them to the closest VA center. The ones that actually want help will take you up on it, the ones that don't , well they just don't." 6 Jen was a recent college graduate, working at the entry level at our station, the lowest of the low. She was twenty-three, fresh faced, still viewing the world through innocent lenses. Middle class background, from a loving home, parents still together, with a lot of brothers and sisters. She wanted to make it in the broadcast world, become a star on national television. I didn't want to be the one to burst her bubble, but it took a lot of very hard work and more than a little luck to rise to the top, and a pragmatism she didn't have. The ones I had worked with, and there had been more than a few, were cast iron bitches who would cut the throat of anyone they viewed as a threat or obstacle on their way to the top. There were a few exceptions, and those didn't usually last long. 7 Me? I was a cameraman/producer. My training came from my Uncle. I was part of the green machine for six years, doing two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. I wasn't a rear echelon soldier, my job was to go out into the field, film everything as it happened, for training purposes and to cover their ass. It took a long time to learn to go into combat with a camera instead of a rifle, and I got a reputation of hanging in until the last round was fired. 8 The group I was with got into a pretty hot firefight three months before I was to rotate out of Iraq. It was a clever ambush, we were outgunned and outnumbered and it was really iffy for awhile. I filmed until it got too hot, then picked up an M4. I was completely out of rounds by the time help arrived, and was hand to hand with a pretty determined enemy. He shot me, not a major wound, before pulling his knife. A tactical mistake, his AK actually had a bayonet. He did manage to cut me long and deep, three times from my chest to just above my groin, before I clubbed him to death with the butt of my weapon. I refused to leave the field until I retrieved my camera. I got a purple heart, a bronze star, a trip to Ramstein for treatment, and was shipped home for a year. 9 Then they sent me to Afghanistan, with a plum assignment. I was attached to a Colonel, to film progress being made rebuilding schools and hospitals. My commander was a pretty no nonsense type a guy, and when he found that for every dollar in aid our government gave them for these projects, only about twenty cents actually went to building and repair, he was pretty pissed. The rest was taken as fees by the government and local tribal leaders. When he filed a report, the powers that be in the country ordered him to cease and desist. 10 The Colonel was actually retired but they called him back for this project. One night we found ourselves alone, and he casually asked if I still had friends among the network people I had worked with on occasion, someone who could be depended on to hold a confidence. I did, and soon one of the field producers bought some papers from a local, and blew the whistle on the corruption prevalent in the new regime. Popular theory was the local had stolen it while we were in transit from one village to another. Of course everyone knew what happened, but they couldn't prove anything. The did send the Colonel back into retirement, publically praising him for discovering the corruption, but not before we were ambushed. We were supposed to be well behind the combat line. It was blamed on the Taliban, but I recognized some of the bodies as workers for the corrupt contractor that lost his business. I got a couple more tin pieces to embellish my tunic, as did our driver, a woman who had never seen combat but was incredibly cool under duress, and a wickedly accurate shot. Between us we got everyone out of the vehicles and treated the wounded as best we could. The colonel was a tough old bird, firing his sidearm and cursing our attackers as I treated his leg. He got a limp for the rest of his life, and a triumphant return when he got stateside. 11 I was rotated home and spent the rest of my time editing footage from the fronts. Some pieces were released to the public, other footage used for training and analysis. They didn't try very hard to get me to reenlist, and I was hired by a major network the day after I mustered out. 12 It paid well, and they sent me all over the world for another three years, usually war torn countries where the dangers were very real. I got shot in some hellhole African country, and when I recovered I told my bosses my war days were behind me. They grumbled, but sent me home. I settled here, at a station that didn't serve a large market. The pay wasn't the best, but the atmosphere appealed to me. And when it came down to it, I was pretty good at getting everything I could out of any assignment, and the piece often went in directions the station never saw coming. I even won two regional Emmys, which led to more offers from the networks. Not a chance. 13 My lifestyle didn't allow me much of a love life, so at thirty one I was still single. I dated, had sex pretty often, but found no one that held my attention for more than a month. I was beginning to think bachelorhood would be permanent. 14 Jen had that attractive mixed race thing going. Her father was half white and half Korean and her mother was Hispanic. The races mixed really well, she had flawless light brown skin, a riot of jet black curls that stopped just above her shoulders, and almost almond shaped eyes. She could shake her head and it would take almost a minute before her curls stopped quaking. Everybody from the interns to the evening anchor took a run at her, and she turned them down to a man. And in a couple of cases, to a woman. I was the only one who didn't pursue her, so naturally she wanted to know why. 15 "You're attractive beyond words, Jen, but you're twenty-three and on your way up, if you work hard and get lucky. I'm thirty-one, and exactly where I want to be right now. It would be cruel for us to get together, then have you move up or find someone who knocks you off your feet. Best we stay friends." 16 Chapter 2 I worked a lot of weekends because I was single and didn't mind, letting the married guys be home with their families. Jen worked mostly weekends, stuck in what I called the "Weekend Ghetto". I once pointed out to the station manager that the entire Saturday lineup was all female and completely minorities. He nearly had a heart attack, thinking of the possible lawsuits, and scrambled to get white males in for Sunday. After he chewed the weekend producer a new anal orifice, a better balance was achieved, and Jen got to do a few things during the week. 18 If there was any hint of possible confrontation, I was the automatic producer/cameraman of choice, especially if the reporter was female, because of my military background and physical size. There had been a few incidents in the past, once during a protest sparked by an interracial shooting that turned into a small riot, another at a demostration over illegal immigration, and the most intense came while we did a field interview with a group of vets who were having trouble receiving benefits in a timely manner. 19 A bunch of them were suffering from PTSD, and were already dancing on the edge. One guy lost it, and got into Jen's face. I stepped from behind the tripod and got between them. "Chill, brother. How much help you think you'd get in jail? She has no idea what you went through, and believe it or not, we're trying to help." 20 My size and the way I held myself seemed to calm him. "You were there?" 21 I sighed. "Yeah, I was there. Iraq and Afghanistan. Sucked both times." 22 The man lost it, and fell sobbing into my arms. "Sorry, man. Ma'am, I didn't meant to scare you. I lost my job because of my PTSD. We couldn't afford the mortgage, and lost the house. My wife left, took my kid, because she was afraid to be around me. Sadly, it was the right thing for her to do. I'm living on the street now, got nowhere else to go." 23 Another of the protestors snorted. "Suck it up, you pussy. He can say anything. He don't know shit." 24 I kind of zoned out. The guy I was holding stepped back and the other protestor flinched when he saw my face. I had a nice button up shirt and I yanked it apart, the buttons flying everywhere, the three scars evident on my chest and stomach. "I was there, asshole, got the scars and the ribbons to prove it. Now stand down and let us try to help you." 25 "How?" 26 That stopped me. How, indeed. Jen stepped in. "By telling everyone your story. How you're suffering while your country neglects you. I admit it's not much, but it's a start." 27 By now I had a full head of steam. "She's right. There's not much we can do. But we can talk, keep it to the forefront." 28 I paused, thinking. "The whole thing disgusts me. We let politicians give porkbarell deals to defense contractors, pour billions into the countires we tried to defend, knowing as it happened very little would go to help the people, the rest going straight into the pockets of every crooked politician and contractor involved. Hell, our government does things like give hundreds of millions to Brazillian cotton farmers just so they can compete with us in world markets, and give the VA small change. Men and women who served suffer and die every day because our politicians won't get off their ass and do the right thing. 29 I noticed then that Jen was behind the camera. They all had a little training so they could do live remotes without having to tie up anyone else, so she knew what to do. I looked straight into the lens. 30 "Mr. President, members of Congress, what the hell is wrong with you? Scenes like this play out every day all across the country and you sit on your asses. How many of your sons and daughters would you let suffer before you stepped up? Breaking News, they're all your sons and daughters! You guys need to fix this, you hear me? You need to fix it right now, today. Stop worrying about which golf course you're going to shut down to play a round or two, the five thousand dollar a plate dinners, or where you're vacationing on a defense contractor's dime, AND DO YOUR DAMN JOB!" 31 I knew this would never see the airways, but damn, did it fell good to say it! 32 Chapter 3 I was wrong. You get the inexperienced on the weekends, management figuring if they screwed up it would be less noticeable and more easily fixed. The guy at the station was so shocked he just let it stream, so the whole thing hit the airwaves, live. What was supposed to be a three minute segment turned into a twelve minute manifesto. 34 Jen and I knew nothing of this, and Jen insisted she get a hug from every one of the protestors. Many were crying when they did it, thanking us for our effort. I filmed the whole thing, thinking she might want it for a keepsake. I got my share of hugs and handshakes, as well as heartfelt thanks. I just wished what I had done would help. 35 As soon as we packed up Jen dragged me into a shop and bought me a new tee shirt. She was really quiet when she looked at my scars. Always the reporter, she asked questions on the trip back to the station. 36 "So, you're a vet? How come no one knew?" 37 "I don't like to talk about it much. Too many painful memories. You can read all you want about war, but until you're in that situation, people trying to kill you, friends dying in front of you or in your arms, getting shot yourself, you have no clue. I got tired of trying to explain it, and just stopped talking about it." 38 "But you were a cameraman! Are you saying you carried a camera instead of a gun into combat situations?" 39 I shrugged. "It was my job. And I wasn't exactly naked, I had my sidearm, and if it got really hairy there was always a rifle around I could pick up. Can we stop talking about it now?" 40 She looked at me with tears in her eyes, nodded, and held my hand the rest of the way back to the station. I let her. We walked into the station to clapping and cheers. I wondered what was up until the weekend manager shook my hand. "Guess you guys told them, huh?" 41 It hit me then they had watched the whole thing. "Thanks. Too bad it will never see the light of day." 42 "But it did! Jason was so mesmerized he let it stream, and I didn't try to stop him! Of course, we'll probably be unemployed Monday, but to me, it was worth it." He loosened his tie, unbottoned his shirt and pulled a sleeve down, and showed his tattoo. Rangers. I always felt like he was military, the way he walked, the way he reacted to situations, were trained responses you could only get one way. "Three tours," he said, buttoning his shirt. 43 I didn't need to show him mine. He'd already seen the scars. A thought hit me. "Try to keep Jen out of it. She had no idea about what was going to happen." 44 He assured me he would try, but could make no promises 45 None of us could anticipate what happened. CBS, our affliate, got wind of the segment and featured it on their show Sunday Morning the next week. By Monday every network and most cable news stations were airing it, and all had links to websites where they could view the whole thing, down to Jen's hugs. Youtube played it, and it got five million views in three months. 46 Surprisingly, there were a lot of vets at the station, and they all rallied behind us. We even did a PSA together, showing us in uniform and how we looked now, pleading for the government to help speed VA services up. All the other local stations ran the same PSA with their own people, and soon stations nationwide ran the same message. The last picture was of me, in full dress uniform, the service ribbons and medals on full display. Two purple hearts, a bronze star, and a silver star with oak leaves. All from actions I wouldn't discuss. The other veterans told Jen what they meant. She asked me later if I was a hero. 47 "No. I was just a scared kid doing what I thought was necessary to get us all out of bad situations. I honestly don't remember a lot of it, and never really understood the fuss." 48 Upper management chewed the whole weekend crew out, but did nothing else. The publicity we were generating shot us to the number one spot locally for the first time in years. They were looking for ways to hold on, and one of the first things they did was make Jen and I a permanent team. 49 Of course, a lot of our work was following up on the story, so we interviewed VA officials, local politicians, our federal representatives. We even requested an interview with the President, but that went nowhere fast. It was an election year, and they all treated us like we were radioactive. I don't know if it was my influence, or if Jen was maturing, but she didn't hesitate to ask the hard questions. We interviewed a local Congressman, and after the standard platitudes and cliches, she hit him with the hard one. 50 "I'd like to request an interview six months from now, so we can review progress made and discuss what you have done personally to make things change. I'm sure your constituents would love to hear how hard you've worked for them." 51 The man turned bright red, stuttering, before he composed himself and told her to call his office to set up a time. Jen shrugged. 52 "Fine. But if we don't hear from you, if you don't give us an interview, we'll do a 'report card' segment on the sidewalk in front of your office and review you actions and progress. I'm sure your supporters will be very interested." 53 He called the station, raising hell, saying he would give interviews, just never with us again. I would have loved to have seen his face when the manager replied. "You're choice, Jack. But everyone else she's interviewed has already agreed, and if you don't, Jen and Dean will do a remote from your office steps like they said, laying out everything you have or haven't done. We'll even give you airtime for a rebuttal. Think about it." 54 Chapter 4 Because we were together so much we learned a lot more about each other. I was an only child, and my parents were killed in a car accident when I was on my second tour. I had one grandmother left. Jen came from a large family, five siblings, three sisters and two brothers. She was the second oldest, and her two youngest sisters were in middle school. Family was important to her, and she didn't get to visit as much as she wanted to. When I asked why she said she couldn't afford it. 56 Her contract was almost up by then. I talked to the powers that be, telling them I expected to see her pay go up substantially. They balked until I reminded them my contract was running out as well, and we were being courted by stations all over the country, together and seperately. "We make a good team, so if she goes, so do I. Think about it." 57 Jen was over the moon when they offered more money. I think I hurt her feelings when I laughed. "Tell them no. Tell them you deserve at least what I make, maybe more. After all, you're the rising star. I'm just your sidekick. I haven't told you, but I've heard from people at other stations, here and across the country. They're interested in us as a package. Bring that up in conversation and see what management says." 58 In the end, she didn't get what I was making, but still got an almost thirty-five per cent raise. She was really happy, for about a week. 59 We were coming back from a piece on women's rights. She was quiet, withdrawn, and had been for several days. "What's going on, Jen?" 60 She roused herself, looking confused. "What?" 61 "You've been...off, for several days now. You've got something heavy weighing on you. Want to share? Maybe I can help." 62 I knew she shared a large apartment with two friends, the sweet Lindsey and the insufferable Jasmine. I'd met both when Jen brought them in for a tour of the station, even got them seats for the midday talk show. She was dead on in her assessments, Lindsey was inpressed by everything while Jasmine seemed bored out of her mind. She only perked up when Jen was telling them what network anchors made. 63 "What do you make, Dean?" 64 "Enough. What do you do, Jasmine?" 65 "I'm the Personal Assistant to Mr. James Moody, CEO of Blanche Industries." 66 She said it with pride, like I was supposed to know who that was. I had no idea, and decided to ruffle her feathers a little. "A Personal Assistant? Is that like a glorified secretary?" 67 She flamed red, and Lindsey couldn't help herself, giggling at her reaction. "I assure you, it's much more than that, and the pay is much better. Plus, I get to meet and socialize with very important people." 68 Jasmine waited for me to make appropriate approving noises. "Socialize? You don't have regular business hours? How much time do you put in a week, does it average out to a decent wage? I'm glad you like it. Sounds like an interesting life, though. Maybe Jen and I should do a piece on you, show how hard work and dedication sometimes pay off. I'm sure your boss would love the publicity." 69 The woman frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea. Mr. Moody is a very private person." A CEO that doesn't like free publicity? Something smelled, and I dropped the whole conversation. 70 Back to the present, and Jen was sniffling a little. "Jasmine is moving out! Seems her boss wants her in a private apartment, so she can be available more quickly. He's even paying for it. Even with my raise, Linds and I can't afford to stay. She dropped the bomb three weeks before the lease runs out, and was gone the next day. We've been scrambling, but can't find anything decent. We've got two weeks before we're homeless." 71 I felt bad for her. I'd never had to struggle for housing. I lived at home until I enlisted, then Uncle Sam housed me, and with the insurance money from my parents I could afford just about anything. I got out just as the economy was starting to rebound, so I decided to buy. I looked at several new homes, and thought about building, but I just couldn't find anything that suited me. 72 Finding my home proved to be easier than I thought. Cutting through an area of town I'd never explored on the way to an assignment, I was impressed with the large lots and the stately old houses. One house, the "For Sale" sign looking slightly faded, caught my eye. 73 That's when I saw her. My house. Two stories, large lot, three bay detached garage. It had obviously been empty for quite a while, and the sign out front had a 'reduced' banner across the front. Four days later I met the realtor and she took me on a tour. Six bedrooms, three baths, updated kitchen, high ceilings, all original woodwork. 4200 square feet of faded elegance. She was almost a hundred years old, but had been well cared for and had been updated over the years. The garage was well maintained, and there was a two bedroom apartment up top, the servant's quarters at one time most likely. It could stand an update, but was useable. I let the realtor drone on until I made my decision. 74 "How much?" 75 "Pardon?" 76 "How much do the owners want?" 77 "Well, they started out at 750, but with the ecomony they reduced it to six, a really good deal. It would be an excellent investment." 78 I knew the woman looked at my age and appearance and thought she was wasting her time. Shocking her, I made an offer. I decide 500,000 would be my limit, so I started low. 79 "Tell the owners I'll give them 420 as is. And tell them I'll be paying cash, we don't need to do anymore paperwork." 80 The woman was obviously flustered. "They won't accept that! It's almost half what it's worth!" 81 I shrugged. "It's more than they have now. I did a little research. This place has been on the market for two years, and this is the first offer made. Talk to them, and get back to me." 82 I figured she would get back with a counter offer, and you could have knocked me over with a feather when she called and told me they had accepted my offer. "You're stealing this," she grumbled when we met at the lawyer's office. 83 "You mean I'm stealing a large chunk of your commision. Tell me, how many other homes have you sold lately with this kind of price tag?" 84 She ccouldn't help but grin. "None. This commision will go a long way towards our own dream house. I won't say it's been a pleasure, but it has been interesting. Congratulations, enjoy your new home." 85 I spent another forty thousand fixing odds and ends. When the remodelers were done, I got a cleaning service to go over the whole house, even the apartment. The place gleamed when they were done, and I signed a deal for a quarterly visit. Uncle had taught me how to clean, and I only used four rooms., so it was enough. 86 Deciding her name was Miss Agnes, when the weather changed and she groaned a little, I would talk to her. I know, a little crazy, but I lived alone, so it didn't matter. "Buck up, old girl. You might be old, and be high maintenance, but you're beautiful, and worth every dime." I found some old pictures in the attic, and one woman stood out. Doing a little research, I found out she and her husband were the original owners, and the place was mostly built with her money. When I found out her name was Agnes, a chill went up my spine. I hung the picture in the hall, so she could watch over the place. 87 I just grinned at Jen, and asked her if she'd like to meet Miss Agnes. 88 Chapter 5 They came out Saturday, and spent almost an hour wandering around the house and grounds. I showed them the apartment and asked if they thought they could stand living in the suburbs. 90 "How much?" 91 I grinned at Lindsey. "How much are you paying now?" 92 "Eight hundred apiece." 93 It must have been a really nice apartment. "Well, we'll see what we can do. I'm thinking fifty a week, but there's a catch. I hope both of you can cook, because part of the deal is one homecooked meal from each of you per week, and I furnish the food. And you can each have a space in the garage, just don't bother the other bay. Deal?" 94 They stared, they stuttered. "Fifty isn't fair, Dean! We don't want to take..." 95 "All right. You drive a hard bargain. Twenty-five then. And we'll sign a one year lease, just so you can be comfortable with the deal." Suddenly I had two hands full of crying women, and we stayed locked up for a long time, before they finally calmed down and let me go. They spent the rest of the day cleaning the apartment, borrowed my truck(and me) to move the furniture they wanted to keep. They were firmly in place before the weekend was out. I had one more condition they had to agree to before I gave them the keys. 96 "Do not tell anyone this is my house. I like privacy, and I don't care to have to discuss how I came to own such a big place. Understood?" They agreed. 97 It was an adjustment. I took them on a tour of my house, and introduced them to Miss Agnes. "She's watching, and she can be cranky. Best not upset her." They both looked at me funny, but after that, every time they came over, they greeted her, and told her goodbye when they left. I rarely went up into the attic, but one day I went to check on the heat ducts, and saw it. Her wedding album. I could swear it wasn't there the last time I was up. Agnes was a knockout when she was young. Before I knew it, I was talking. 98 "Gee Agnes, you were hot! I bet your husband was the envy of every male in town." I felt a soft sigh go through the attic. Wind, most likely. A box fell off a shelf. I picked it up and opened it. Love letters from each other while he served in WW1. A picture of him in his uniform. His medals. One of her with their first child. Her letters were lyrical, and downright erotic for the time. I grinned. 99 "Agnes, Agnes, I bet these warmed up the trenches he was in." The attic got a little warmer, and I remembered why I was up there, to check the ducts. I went to set the box down when I saw a smaller box in the bottom. I knew what it was as soon as I touched it. 100 "Oh no, Agnes, this is too personal." 101 I couldn't help it though, and looked. A wedding set, her band, his band, and what could only be described as a rock for an engagement ring. They had to be worth a lot of money. I fingered the rings, remembering my research. They had been married for fifty-six years, and died within days of each other. Wishing I could find a love that enduring, I carefully placed the box back on the shelf. 102 Chapter 6 Turns out Jen was a very good cook. "Mom, Dad, six kids. I was the oldest girl, so I learned. It wasn't a gender thing, Mom made all of us learn, and we each had a specialty. Mine was fried chicken, pan gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, and fresh biscuits. Allie made spaghetti and meatballs, Joe was a grillmaster. We all were proud of our dishes." Her fried chicken was really outstanding. We had it about every two weeks. 104 Lindsey was a blue eyed blond with a bubbly personality, a real piece of eye candy. They made quite a pair and quite a contrast at the same time. She couldn't cook as well as we thought. We suffered through three hot dog and hamburger meals before we started teaching her. Then she signed up for a cooking class featuring Mexican dishes, and our variety improved quite a bit. 105 So my home life improved dramatically. It was kind of interesting when we had dates over, they all had a hard time with our living arrangement, but after they learned they adjusted. If one had company, the other stayed absent. Jen even stayed in the house a few times to give Lindsey some privacy. We both consoled her when her relationships tanked. For some reason Jen never brought anyone home, although she did stay elsewhere every once in a while. 106 Six months went by and we did a followup to our VA story. Our Congressman failed miserably, and denied an interview. We did our remote on his office steps, giving him a public F for his efforts. He did not win his re-elction bid. His replacement was from the other party, and a vet, so he jumped in, making it his personal cause, working both parties relentlessly. He made friends and he made enemies, but he got stuff done. 107 We did other stories, some fluff, some serious. Jen came up with a thing where we did the interviews together, tag teaming our subjects. Politicians and corporate types hated us, the average person loved us. 108 We started a side project, purely by accident, that changed the direction of our lives forever. 109 We'd done an Art Crawl, going from location to location doing clips. It had gotten dark, and the neighborhood we were in was right on the fringes of the event, a not so nice place to be after the sun went down. Jen decided to take a shortcut, to get back to the station earlier. She thought that because she was with me, she was bulletproof. It bothered me, it's one thing to intimidate a crooked salesman or corrupt politician, another to face down a junkie stoned out of his mind, or gang members on their home turf. 110 A large man loomed out of the darkness, a street person by his looks. He didn't see me at first and accosted Jen. "Hey lady, got a couple bucks for someone down and out?" 111 He was using his size to intimidate, but Jen knew I was right behind her, and it made her brave. "What's in it for me?" 112 The man was obviously confused. "Huh?" 113 "I said what's in it for me. What do I get for my money?" 114 By now he had seen me and was backing off. Jen was right on top of him. "Tell you what, I've got a five here. It's yours if you sing me a song." 115 "Lady, I don't know any songs." 116 "Bullshit! Everybody has a song, one that means something to them. Sing me one verse and the money is yours." 117 He stood for a minute, thinking. Then, in a surprisingly strong baritone, he began singing. 118 "The itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout. 119 Along came the rain and washed the spider out." 120 He sang it all, as tears started flowing down his cheeks. "My mother used to sing that to me. I hadn't thought of her in years." 121 Jen was absolutely mesmerized. I turned my camera back on. "I'll give you another twenty if you'll sing it again, and let me film it." 122 He went through it again, tears coming once more, choking up in spots. "What's your name, brother?" I asked as I handed him the money. 123 "Nobody uses their real name on the street," he said. Pulling on his shoulder length hair and long beard, grinning. "Out here, I'm Shaggy. Thanks for the money." We watched as he walked into a burger joint. At least some of it didn't go to booze. 124 She was quiet on the way back to the station, even quieter on the ride home. Instead of going into her apartment, she followed me in and made us tea without asking. Once we had the Earl Grey on the coffee table, she started talking. 125 "My uncle was a street person. Everyone in the family was ashamed of him, and cut him out of their lives. All but Mom and Dad. They'd find him, bring him home, clean him up, give him some clothes, feed him a couple of good meals, then he would disappear again. They really tried to get him help, but he wouldn't accept it. We were in a cold snap, twenties during the day, almost zero at night. Mom had bought him a really thick coat and given it to him. We found out later he sold it for alcohol. They found him frozen to death in a cardboard box under an overpass. My folks had to pay for the funeral, no one else in the family wanted to help. Most didn't even come. I remembered him from when I was little, when he was a normal person, how he swung me around until I was dizzy and giggling. What a waste of life!" 126 She was sobbing quietly, so I cuddled her, letting her soak my shirt. She got really quiet, and I realized she was asleep. I slid out, placing her gently on the couch. I was going to wake her up and send her home, but she looked so peaceful I left her, taking off her sneakers and covering her with a blanket, lifting her head gently to slide a pillow under her. Unable to stop myself, I kissed her cheek, amazed at how soft and warm her skin was. I ruffled her hair, whispering. 127 "Watch over her Miss Agnes. She's really special." I felt something brush my cheek, the air conditioner kicking on no doubt, and went to bed. 128 Chapter 7 We won a regional Emmy for our series on veterans. It was a big deal for the station, and we were ordered to attend. Jen was very excited, proud of our work. I didn't tell her, but I already had four, from my time with the network. They were in a box somewhere. 130 I came home the night before the ceremony and found it full. Seems her parents and most of her siblings had decided to surprise her by coming up to celebrate her success. There were two girls, early teens by their looks, splashing around in the enormous above ground pool I had installed, and an older looking boy working with my gas grill. Something smelled great. 131 There was a very attractive Hispanic woman sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in, drinking coffee. A slender man sat across from her, his black hair edged with grey. I knew instantly who they were. Jen's parents, and looking at her mother, I realized Jen would still be a hottie as she aged. Her mother was in her late forties, still slender, still sexy, she looked like she might be in her late thirties. In no way did she look like she'd given birth to six children. She grinned when she saw me. 132 "Hi, you must be Dean. Jen insisted we wait to meet you, but well, we couldn't help ourselves. The girls had packed their suits for the motel pool, so they changed and jumped right in. I cuaght our son Joe drooling as he looked over your outdoor kitchen. Lindsey said it would be okay, so we bought some ribs, chicken, and steaks. They should be done in another hour or so." 133 Jen showed up just then looking scared to death. She had to stay late for a meeting, so she had driven herself that day. She pushed me into the living room before I could speak, babbling and apologizing. I held her for a minute. It always seemed to calm her down. 134 "Easy, Jen. Slow down. It's okay, really. Now, what do you need to tell me?" 135 "It's not my fault! I didn't know they were coming! They just showed up, and Lindsey let them in, telling them to get comfortable. The girls were already in the pool and Joe was on the grill when she called. I couldn't tell them no. Please don't be mad." 136 "Calm down, honey. It'll be just fine. Now, why don't you get me introduced to everyone." 137 She went quiet instantly, a strange look on her face, It wasn't until I was almost asleep that night before I remembered I called her honey. I hope she wasn't angry. 138 I met them all. Her oldest brother Roy, a year older than her. Her brother Joe, a junior in high school, and the twin girls, fourteen, Anne and Sandy. One of their siblings couldn't make the trip, but Mom(she insisted I call her that)showed me pictures and assured me I would meet her later. As the night wore on, I noticed Jen tended to cling to me, giving me little touches now and then. I looked at her and she mouthed "later" to me, so I let her keep it up. After a tremendous meal and a fun evening, we got everyone bedded down. They had intended to find a motel, but I shot that down pretty quick. 139 "Why would you do that? I have bedrooms that haven't been used since I bought the house. You're more than welcome to stay." 140 When they all were down for the night, I expected Jen to leave, but that didn't happen. Around midnight I asked her if she didn't need to rest for our big night. She went about eight shades of red and confessed. "Dean, I...um...I..." 141 "I'm tired Jen. Spit it out." 142 It came out in a rush. "I, uh, kind of told them that we were living together. I'm sorry, but it happened when Mom and Dad were getting on me for not finding anybody, and I told them I was already sharing your address. I just didn't tell them I was living in the apartment above your garage. They assumed we were together, so I let them. I had no idea they would just show up out of the blue." 143 "What does that have to do with sleeping? Tell them tomorrow, I'm sure they will understand." 144 "Please, Dean, Please. Let me stay the night, and pretend we're together until they leave. I'll give it a couple of weeks and then tell them we broke up." 145 "Where would you sleep?" 146 "In your bed. I'll behave, I promise. Just one night, Dean. Please." 147 She collapsed into my chest sobbing. I couldn't help it, I was always a sucker for crying women. I rubbed her hair, patted her back. "Stop crying, honey. Go to your place and get your sleepwear and a change of clothes. One night! And no hanky panky!" 148 She stopped crying and giggled. "Hanky panky? What grown man says hanky panky?" 149 "This one," I growled, before swatting her butt lightly. "Go get your stuff." 150 She shot out the door giggling again, rubbing her bottom. I took advantage of her absence and took a shower, putting on a tee and some lightweight sweat pants. She went straight into the bathroom when she came back, and I could hear her singing in the shower. She had never been in my bedroom or master bath, so she had never seen my custom shower. Six heads, including a fourteen inch rainshower head, all adjustable in power and pulse. I had drifted off by the time she came out, and she shook me awake. "You're in the middle of the bed, honey. Move over. You want the right or the left?" 151 I slid sleepily to the left side, and she eased in, careful not to touch me. We were both worn out, so sleep came quickly. I woke up a couple hours later to find her half draped over me, her hair obscuring her face as it rested on my chest. She seemed really comfortable, so I ran my hand through her curls until I drifted back off. When we woke, she had spooned to me, and I had my arms wrapped around her, one hand on her soft(and bare)tummy the other tangled up in her hair. Seems I really have a thing for her hair. I had my morning erection, and she was pushing back in her sleep. It felt very, very good, so I lay there enjoying it. When she was awake enough to realize what she was doing, she let out a little cry and jumped out of bed. 152 I didn't see what she was wearing last night, but I really appreciated it now. Sleep shorts that were so skimpy they almost qualified as panties, and a camisole held up by spaghetti straps that weren't really doing their job. One breast was bare almost to her nipple. She looked down, gave a little squeak, and pulled a short robe on, leaving quite a bit of leg for me to enjoy. It was funny to see her creamy skin glow from embarrassment. 153 "Morning, honey. Sleep well?" 154 Before she could answer her mother knocked. "Up, up, lovebirds. Time to face the day. Breakfast is ready, so hustle, before it disappears." 155 Jen ran into the bathroom, dressing in shorts and a nice top, doing her hair. I changed in the bedroom, jeans and a comfortable tee, and she dragged me out, a death grip on my hand. 156 "Sleep well?" 157 I grinned at her mom. "Not really. Princess here was firmly convince there was a pea under the mattress. She wiggled all night, keeping me up." 158 Her father grinned, catching the innuendo. Jen seemed to have a permanent blush this morning. Lindsey had joined us, and she spun tales of how in love we were, while I held Jen's hand and gave her little public display of affections, even patting her bottom in front of her mother. I thought she might melt through the floor any minute. 159 When afternoon came, everyone hit the pool. I have to say I enjoyed Jen and Lindsey in their cute little bikinis, and Mom really rocked the one piece she had. Everyone was in the pool but me and they noticed. 160 "Come in, Dean. It is your pool, after all." Her mother was grinning as she said it. "Show us what Jen's been going on about these last few months." 161 I looked daggers at Jen and she blushed, then tried to come to my aid. "Leave him alone, Mom. He'll come in if he wants." 162 The twins joined in, wanting to see the 'hunk' that Jen was always bragging about. Finally I stood, and slid my tee off. 163 Conversation stopped. My main scar had healed, but would remain an ugly red the rest of my life. My two minor cuts and the bullet hole were just tiny white lines and a dot. Her father stood up and shook my hand, then slid his shorts up a little, showing two holes in his thigh that looked the same as mine. Bullet holes. 164 "I was in the first Iraq war, called up reserves, and forgot to duck. Nothing like you, though." 165 I held his arm. "Exactly like me, sir. You fought for your country and got wounded, same as me. Never downplay your service. Never." 166 He blushed and nodded. His wife and girls were looking at him like it was the first time they had ever seen him. Then we were both smothered by crying women. Him with his wife and young daughters, me with Lindsey and Jen. 167 Jen kept saying she was sorry, because she knew I didn't like people to see my scars. I kissed them both, telling them it was all right, and jumped into the pool, taking both with me. They shreiked, and her dad followed suit, pushing her mother, and soon everyone was in the pool, having a good time. 168 They ended up staying an extra day, so I had my little bed buddy for another night. Jen gave her a tour of 'our' bedroom, and I noticed things, little knickknacks and pictures, that hadn't been there before. When they saw the large shower, her little sisters begged to use it, so I got evicted from my bedroom while the girls, Jen, Lindsey, and Mom, stress tested my on demand water heater. I spent quality time with her Dad and brothers. We all had a few beers, except for the youngest, and talked about all sorts of things. Right in the middle, Dad asked me about our relationship. 169 "How old are you?" I was thirty-one, Jen had turned twenty-four. 170 "You're not going to hurt my baby, are you Dean?" 171 I looked him in the eye and told the truth. "I'd rather die than hurt her. She is really something special, and I'm not the only one who can see it. Jen could go far in this business, if she gets a few breaks and keeps a level head. On a personal level, being around her is like having a warm sunny day, after a week of cold rain. She has a natural ability to bring out the best in everyone, and make us all want to be worthy of being in her sphere." 172 He gazed at me for a minute before nodding. "Good enough. I hold you to your word, Dean." 173 We didn't know it, but the women heard every word, and the kiss Jen gave me while her family watched had nothing to do with friendship. There was a defiant little smirk on her face when she pulled back. 174 Chapter 8 An odd thing about buying a property as is. You not only got the property, you owned everything that was left behind. I looked into the garage, of course, but it was full of what I thought was junk, so I left it alone for almost a year. Then I bought a motorcycle, and decided I was going to at least clean one bay so I could keep it out of the rain. It was after I had hauled four loads of trash away in my truck before things got interesting. 176 It was large, and covered with three layers of very old plastic, so old it split when I tried to remove it. Under the plastic was an antique sideboard, looking almost new. I regognized it instantly. My mother was a fanatic about antiques, and searched and bargained over the years until her dining room looked like it came right out of the roaring twenties. She had an oak table with two leaves big enough to seat twelve when fully extended, and twelve chairs to go with it. The china cabinet matched, sturdy oak with panes of glass so old they had a few wavy lines in them. All she needed for a complete set was the sideboard, and she was still trying to locate one when she died. They were sitting in my dining room now. This was the missing piece. 177 When I tried to pull it out to better inspect it, it wouldn't budge. I opened the top drawer and found it full of silverwear, and I mean a full silver service. The bottom drawer held serving bowls, gravy boats, ladles, that sort of thing. The two doors held a complete service for eight, matching the bowls. A fine floral pattern, they had to be worth a fortune. I got a few boxes, padded them with blankets, and layered them in, moving them slowly into the dining room. The sideboard was still heavy, and I had to wait for the girls to get home from shopping to help me. It took both to carry one end. 178 They immediately took over, cleaning the sideboard carefully, until the finish matched the rest of the pieces. They they gently cleaned the service and polished the silver. They also looked everything up, and the whole package was worth over nine thousand. I had to threaten to evict them to keep them quiet. 179 I got the bay cleaned out and got my motorcycle inside. Lindsey was almost quivering to help empty the other two bays, and Jen matched her enthusiasm. Jen and I had a rare Saturday off coming up, so we set that as a target. I woke to the smell of bacon and looked at the clock. 5:30! It was still dark outside. I stumbled into the kitchen to see both girls wearing old jeans, ratty tee shirts, their hair covered with bandanas. Both had work gloves hanging out of a back pocket. 180 I got good morning hugs and they practically rammed the food down my throat, they were in that much of a hurry. I opened the door to the second bay and gave them a lecture. "We are not going to hurry! Go gently. It might be nothing but junk. If there is something valuable in here, we don't want to ruin it by being impatient. Understand?" They nodded and promised. 181 We may as well have used a bulldozer for the first two thirds. Nothing but junk. Then it got interesting. Lindsey found a small vanity, marble topped, with matching chair, under a tarp. We slid them to the door gently, to get a better look. It was in very good condition, the mirror still intact. It had two drawers and I let them each open one. Lindsey went first, gently pulling it out. Inside was a matched set of brushes and combs, silver with ivory inlays, that looked brand new. The handles were embossed with initials, A J M, in flowery script. I knew instantly they belonged to Agnes. Her full name was Agnes Jane Merchant. I knew from one of their letters that her husband had sent them to her while he was still in service, and that they were Italian. There was also twelve assorted hat pins, tipped in ivory and stones. I knew we would be looking them up soon. 182 When we fully exhausted that drawer, Jen eased hers open. She pulled out a small jewelry box, frustrated because it was locked. I shined my light into the drawer, and there lay the key. I gave it to Jen, and her hands shook so bad it took four tries before she got it open. Both girls stared, wide eyed and speechless. A string of pearls. An elaborate broach, made of what I later discovered to be garnet. Pearl, ruby, and emerald rings, a garnet ring to march the broach, a diamond pendant on a fine gold chain, another necklace made of garnet beads. That was just what was in the top drawer. 183 She slid the second open, and both gasped. Two matching bracelets, gold and encrusted with small diamonds in twin rows. Tennis bracelets, I think they're called. They were very substantial and had to be worth a fortune. There were a few more slender bracelets, but if you had asked us a week later, we couldn't have told you what they were. I watched them, the hunger plain in their eyes. "Stay right here," I ordered, walking into the house and heading for the attic. 184 I kind of felt foolish, but I knew in my heart Agnes could hear me. "Agnes, I want to ask a favor. Would it offend you if I gave the girls a bracelet apiece? I know they would treasure them. They're good girls, Agnes. They work hard, don't complain, try to better themselves, are kind and loving to their friends and family. Both came from modest backgrounds, and could truly appreciate how special they are. Do I have your blessing?" 185 I stood for a second, and watched, stunned, as a couple of photos floated down from the rafters. The first was Agnes and her younger sister Elizabeth, standing in front of a Christmas tree, holding up their wrists, so you could see the bracelets. The other wasn't actually a photo, it was a receipt, noting the cost for the engraving inside the rings. "Sisters Forever". I realized two things then, that Agnes could really hear me and was watching over the house, and that she approved of my idea. 186 I walked back out to the garage. "Girls, I just talked it over with Agnes, and she says the bracelets belong to you. All she asks is that you read the inscriptions inside and honor them, and that you treasure them, and only way you ever turn them loose is when you give them to your firstborn daughters. Will you agree to her terms?" 187 First they were silent. When they tried to talk, all that came out were sobs. They had just calmed down when I showed them the inscriptions, and then they started again. No more work got done that day. 188 Sunday morning they had calmed down and surprised me, trying to give them back. "Don't you like them?" 189 "We love them, Dean. That's not the point. The point is we looked them up last night, and got a pretty accurate guess on what they would cost if we had to buy them. Never in our lifetime could we ever own something like that unless we married really, really well. You need to save these, pass on to your family." Linds was sniffling, holding out the bracelet like it weighed a ton. I looked at Jen. 190 "You feel the same?" She nodded, unable to talk. 191 "Well then, I guess that's settled then. You're right, the bracelets should stay in the family. That's presisely why Miss Agnes and I decided you should have them. I don't have a family, my only living relative is a grandmother that lives in another state. I love the old girl, but if I gave her something like this fights would break out as soon as she passed, and I couldn't deal with that. Since you obviously don't understand, I guess I need to get crayons and draw you a picture. First though, I have to talk to Miss Agnes." 192 They followed me into the hall and up to the portrait. I didn't recall her ever looking so haughty. "Miss Agnes, I'm afraid I have some bad news. The gift you gave in a loving gesture is being returned. I guess they really didn't deserve them after all." I paused, for dramatic effect, while the girls hung on every word. I pretended to listen, and sighed. "You're right, but then you always are. If you insist. I'll try one more time." 193 I walked into the living room, and sat on the couch. They seemed afraid as they gingerly sat beside me. "Girls, It seems you are a disappointment to Miss Agnes. She seemes to think you were a lot smarter than you obviously are. The reason I gave you those bracelets, you silly females, is because I thought you were my family. You two are the only thing that keep me centered. I can be down, or reliving a particularly bad memory, and one of you will hug me, or hold my hand, and I'm instantly better. You know without a doubt that I'm there for you every time you need me. I thought we had an emotional connection, but I guess refusing our gift proves otherwise. Miss Agnes is disappointed because she never got to spoil a daughter, she had five boys. She likes you here, almost as much as I do. She was going to treat you like the daughters she never had, and you insult her. It hurt her very badly." 194 They were both wailing now, wrapping me up while they shook. Of course I petted them, calmed them down. Once I did, I stood up and held out my hand. "Give me the bracelets. I'll probably donate them to some worthy cause, maybe whoever buys them will treat them with the love they deserve. Maybe some man will buy it for his daughters, to show how much he loves them, or give them to his wife, in appreciation for the decades of loyalty and support. Who knows? And the money the charity will get will go a long way towards helping them turn lives around, redeeming humans deserving of love and respect. Give." 195 The last was more of a demand than a request. They had steadily been drawing back, clutching the wrist the bracelets sat on, protectively. Lindsey finally worked up enough nerve to speak. "Is what you said true? Do you love us like family?" 196 "All the way down to the soles of your cute little feet, baby sister." 197 She fainted. Never saw that coming. I found out later she was from a broken home, a latch key kid that practically raised herself. There wasn't a lot of love going around, her mother was always working and was emotionally repressed, so there were few hugs or words of endearment. It made Linds wary of everyone, and she had a hard time trusting people. She told me later that there was only two people in the world that she ever told she loved them, me and Jen. 198 Jen tackled me after we got Lidsey revived, kissing me everywhere her lips made contact. She stood back and grinned. "I'm not your little sister. I've got something better in mind. And just to clarify, these bracelets are now family heirlooms, and will stay in the family as long as we live, at the very least. if I ever get a chance to pass this on to a daughter, I'm going to tell her a man I love very much, and who loved me back, gave it to me in trust, waiting for her to arrive." 199 "Me too," chimed in Lindsey. "Now, as your first official act of big brotherdom, I think you should take us out for breakfast." 200 I couldn't help laughing. Neither girl was over 105 pounds, but they ate like Olympic cyclists. They should have been wider than they were tall by now, but if anything, they looked thinner. If I looked at a piece of chocolate cake, I gained five pounds. Life isn't fair. 201 "All right, but before we go, you need to apologize to Miss Agnes. You hurt her feelings pretty bad when you refused her gifts. Explain to her you were just being silly girls, and how much you love the bracelets, and how honored you are to wear them. I'll go get dressed while you do. And that apology better be sincere, or she'll know." 202 They looked at me for a minute before going into the hall. I could hear them talking as I slipped on cargo shorts and a fresh shirt. When I came out, there was a lot of whispering going on. Excited whispering. They jumped when I spoke. "Ready, girls? What was all that whispering about?" 203 They shot out the door, yelling bye to Miss Agnes. I looked at her and grinned. "Guess we got our point across, old girl. See you later. We're finishing the second bay, and might start on the third if we have time. Wonder what treasures you've hidden for us?" 204 I swear to God, she looked like she was smirking when I left. 205 "What was all the whispering about?" 206 "Promise not to laugh at us?" 207 "No, but I promise to take you seriously." 208 There was a little pause. "Tell us the truth. Do you believe Miss Agnes can see us, that she understands who we are and why we're living there?" 209 Of course, I answered a question with a question, something I've always found annoying. "Do you think she is?" 210 Jen spoke out, her voice firm. "I believe in her. She looked so severe this morning, but after what you told us, we did go out and apologize to her. We were sincere, especially Linds. We both felt it. Something brushed both our cheeks, and it felt like a kiss. And when we looked up again, SHE WAS SMILING!" 211 Lindsey jumped in. "Jen's right. We both felt it. And our bracelets got warm, in a gentle way, for lack of better words. I think your house is haunted." 212 'Well if it is, it's probably by the nicest ghost I've ever heard of. However, I checked up on her, and according to family documents and letters, she could be very unforgiving if she felt wronged. Best stay on her good side. Now, let's eat." 213 We went into the nice buffet and the girls gorged. I'm ashamed to say I probably ate too much as well. The girls had had a very emotional twenty-four hours, so it was only natural that the force of gravity pulled them down onto the large sofa, until they were snuggled together, asleep. Lindsey was even snoring a little. I sat in the big overstuffed rocker I favored, and watched them sleep for a bit. I was restless, and something made me get up and roam the house, ending up in front of Miss Agnes. I didn't speak out loud, but I knew she could hear me. 214 "I wish I'd gotten a chance to meet you, Miss Agnes. I've read everything I could find on you, you know. I know yours was the will that held the family together when the Great Depression hit. You were what, 45 then? And you were a woman in a definitely man's world. But you made them listen, made them move your investments from stocks to jewels and precious metals, and you came out smelling like a rose, your family intact, even wealthier that you were when it started. Your husband must have been proud. I've read a few things about him, Miss Agnes, from all accounts he was a very impressive man. He would have to have been, to win your hand, The stories I've read say courting you was not a pursuit for the faint of heart. I need to thank you for what you did for the girls. I'd expect a lot more conversations with them from time to time, and I'll probably seek you out for advice myself, especially when it comes to women. I doubt I'll ever find anyone, now. Too old and messed up, I guess." 215 A noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh came out of the vents. I needed to get that checked. 216 The girls woke and we spent the rest of the day finishing the second bay. We found a few things I knew belonged in the house, an ornate coatrack with a mirror, a couple of end tables, and a high backed sofa covered in horsehair. I decided on the spot to have it restored. We saved the last bay until we had another Saturday off. 217 Chapter 9 We worked for a couple of months before we had another encounter with a homeless person. Out of the blue, Shaggy came up to us, smiling. We were two blocks from where we had first encountered him. He looked different, somehow. He noticed me looking him over and grinned. "Meeting you, talking about my mother, it gave me a wakeup call. Believe it or not, Mom is still alive. She's eighty-four and resides in an assisted living complex, in her own small apartment. It took me three hours by bus, but I went to see her, the first time we had laid eyes on each other in sixteen years. She cried so hard the attendants wanted me to leave, but she stopped them. 219 "I thought you were dead," were the first words out of her mouth. We talked for three hours, and enjoyed a meal together. She begged me to call her and asked me to give her my phone, so she could put the number in. I hadn't had a phone in ten years, so I lied, and told her I'd left it home, and wrote her number down. I came back here, cleaned up a little, ended up working as a day laborer about three days a week, more when I can get it. I took my first day's pay and got a cheap cell phone. She was the only one I've called. We talk every other day. Her attendant told me one day it had taken years off her, that now she's animated and takes an interest in things. She told me Mom bragged on me! Me! 220 I've been living on the streets most of the last twenty years. When I heard what she said, I cut my hair, enrolled in AA classes, and thanks to my AA contacts, found a rooming house geared towards people like me. I have a real address for the first time in years. My boss said if I kept up the job I was doing, he would put me on full time when he had an opening." 221 He still had the long hair, and beard, but they were neatly trimmed, and his clothes, though worn, were clean, and he had on brand new boots. I shook his hand, and Jen hugged him. He wanted to show us something, so we followed him, Jen walking ahead. I asked him in a low voice if the sobriety was sticking. He blushed. "I've slipped, twice. My sponsor got me the first time, my boss the next. He put me in the construction office and made me work the next day. I was hung over, and it was hot, but I would have died before I quit. I threw up three times and drank a gallon of water, but I made it. That was six weeks ago. The pull is still there, but It's getting easier to control." 222 We reached the destination, 9th Street, the street where we first met him. He went to an old woman sitting on the curb by a shopping cart full of clothes and junk, and pulled her up. She had two mostly gray braids going down her back, wearing an old dress with tattered tails. She was tiny, I bet she didn't weigh seventy-five pounds, but she walked with her shoulders back, and looked you in the eye. 223 "This is Pocohantas. She's a full blood Indian, and a good person. When you got me to sing it set me to thinking. I want you to listen, and if you like what she does, I want you to give her what you gave me. It will be worth it." 224 She hadn't said a word, but when he finished she stood as tall as her four foot ten inch frame would let her, and started chanting, in her native tongue. Some homeless guys had a few trash can fires going, so she was bathed in fickering light, making her shadow grow and shrink as people moved around. The song was rythmic, reaching cresendoes of high, quavering notes, before sinking back to the chant. It sent chills up my spine, and I fought to hold the camera still as I filmed her. Two guys came up, sat on the curb beside her, and started thumping a cardboard box and a metal bucket it time. It added to the mysticism of the moment. She pulled a tin can out of her cart, one she had filled with pebbles and scrap metal. It made a very effective rattle. She was still shaking it seven minutes later as the last notes faded. 225 We didn't look behind us, and when I heard clapping I looked back in surprise. There must have been three dozen people standing there. One woman held her three year old child up, and the girl dropped a five in her rattle. Her can was full of bills and change in no time. The guys on the ground shared in their bounty, the money going into the large bucket. Jen was so impressed she hugged her, giving her a twenty. I added another. It had been worth it. She walked back to her cart, stately and proud, and sat down on the curb again, pulling the money out and counting it. 226 "Is that safe?" 227 Shaggy shook his head no. "If the two guys who played percussion for her weren't here, someone would take it away from her. Boom Boom is too old to scuffle, but he carries a really big knife. Tin Can is just bat shit crazy. he won't stop swinging until he's knocked out, and he starts back up as soon as he wakes up. They're like their own little village, even got a little shack built back behind that empty lot. Nobody, and I mean nobody, messes with their things." 228 We walked away, in deep thought. We were pretty quiet on the way home, and Linds picked up on it quickly. "What happened?" 229 I set up the camera, patching it into my 50 inch television. First, we showed her Shaggy, singing the nursery rhyme, then Pocohantas and her drummers. She sat quiet when it ended, moisture leaking out of her eyes. When she recovered, she grinned and hugged Jen. "When are you going to finish it?" 230 "Finish what?" 231 "This...documentary? On homeless people with hidden talents, you know it makes a great visual. If you could get them to say a few words about their lives, do a little background, people would eat it up." 232 Jen and I just looked at each other, before bursting into grins and grabbing Lindsey and doing a little circle dance. When we calmed down I shocked her. 233 "It's a great idea, Linds, but we can't do it by ourselves. We need someone to run sound while I film, for more depth. Know anyone, say for instance a Girl Friday at a corporation who is in charge of the audio/visual section, who would like to help? You've been balancing mikes and correcting camera angles for a couple of years now, you would be perfect. Plus, this way we keep it in the family." 234 She was all over it. We even kicked names around for fun. The most popular was Family Films, but we found out later someone already owned the name, so we registered it as My Family Films, which we liked better anyway. So it became a habit for us to take one weekend a month and scout for talent. We often used Shaggy as a guide, so far he had remained sober, and he knew almost everyone on the street, at least that part of town, anyway. 235 We met a man who was an amazing juggler, often having ten itens in the air, talking all the way, telling jokes. "I got another talent I think you might enjoy. When I'm done here, ya'll give me your wallets, and watch me disappear." The crowd laughed at his jokes, and when he put everything down he did what he called challenge juggling. "Here's the deal. I'll take five items, any five you select, and juggle them for three minutes. Everybody that gives me something owes me a five at the end. If I drop anything, I get nothing. My lovely assistant(He pulled Linds to his side)will hold the money, and toss me the items one at a time. When I get the last one up in the air, somebody needs to start the clock." As always, when we appeared and set up our equipment, a crowd would gather. We always went fairly early in the evening, Shaggy said it was best, less dangerous, and we were more apt to catch whoever he wanted us to see fairly sober. 236 Lindsey quickly had the items for him to juggle thrust forward. I went first, grinning, and handed him my wallet, one of those thick biker types anchored with a chain. I did take the chain off. I played to the crowd when I asked him loudly, "This is for the juggling act, right?" 237 He just grinned and told the crowd that maybe the vanishing act would be his big finish. He ended up with my wallet, a cell phone, two purses, and a full baby bottle. "It needs to be shaken, so this works out really well for me." said the mother, grinning. 238 He started with the two purses, tossing them up in the air for thirty seconds before he called to Linsey to toss him the next item. She tossed him my wallet, then the cell phone, and finally the bottle. He kept his patter up the whole time. "Wow, this is a dream come true. Two purses, a wallet, and a bottle. I might just disappear after all." 239 Someone called time, but he kept them in the air for another couple of minutes, before tossing them one by one to Lindsey. She gave everything back, after collecting the money. The crowd showed their appreciation by tossing coins and dollars into a ball cap someone had put down. Shaggy told me later he got well over a hundred dollars. Juggler, his street name, didn't say much about himself, but I found out later that he'd lost his entire family in a car wreck, his wife, three daughters, and a son. It sent him into a deep depression that ended up leaving him homeless, jobless, and broke. When they evicted him he walked away with just the clothes on his back and never looked back. 240 The next time we went out, we found a guy Shaggy called Longfellow, who could recite whole epic poems from memory, and never miss a line. Somehow he'd come up with a dinged up top hat and a shabby tux coat, complete with tails. He didn't recite in monotone either, his voice rising to a shout and descending to a whisper, according to how the line needed to be done. Many would walk by, but just as many would stop, mesmerized by his voice. He was fairly street smart, and we caught him early on a Saturday afternoon, in a park, where there were a lot of children out with their mothers, and he delighted them by reciting the whole of "Green Eggs And Ham", and "The Cat In The Hat", and as the shadows grew longer he did Frost, a few more contemporary poets, before going into a whole litany of seventeenth century love poems. He declined to tell us his backstory, but I suspect from the way he talked when we interviewed him he had been some sort of teacher or professor in the past. 241 We did Tin Can and Boom Boom without their partner, raising a storm of percussionsitic expression on wooden boxes, tin cans, a ten quart metal bucket, a five gallon plastic bucket, and blocks of scrap wood. They were good enough to get the people watching them dancing, and another empty bucket soon filled with money. Tin Can had been a pretty successful sessions drummer before he lost a leg, and Boom Boom said he just like to pound on things. Some of the things he pounded on were people, and he had spent years in and out of the prison system because of it. I asked where their partner was and they looked sad. 242 "Some of her tribe showed up and took her with them. They've done it before. It might take a year, but she'll just show up one day, and we'll be back together." Surprisingly, they both consider her the closest thing to a wife they would ever get. I decided not to go down that path. 243 We came up on a nun, with a group from her church, out trying to minister to the street people, giving them blankets, toothbrushes, soap, that sort of thing. She recognized us immediately, and stopped to talk. She praised us, leaving us confused. 244 "This is a tourist spot now. People come down on Saturday afternoons to watch and hear the street people. They get quality entertainment for almost nothing, and the street people get to make a little money. A few of them, like Shaggy here, got enough inspiration to try to change their lives for the better. You all have street names, you know." 245 That surprised us no end and we had to ask what they were. She just grinned and told us to get Shaggy to tell us. Then she shocked us by belting out "Mercedes Benz", by Janis Joplin, and if you closed your eyes, you would easily think it was her. It stayed in the documentary. 246 Lindsey was on Shaggy immediately. He was with us every time we went out, and I paid him fifty bucks. He tried to refuse the money, but I shut him down. "You started this. You find the talent, get us the interviews, help with the back story. You're almost as good as Linds now in setting up the equipment. If this thing ever hits the light of day, I'm going to need your real name, so I can list you in the credits as an associate producer." 247 "So what do they call us? Is it cool?" Linds just wouldn't let it go, and I admit, we were all curious. 248 Chapter 10 Shaggy let her beg for awhile before breaking down. "All right, if you have to know." He looked down at Lindsey, the tiny frame, the blue eyes, the blonde hair, and told her she had two names. "Half of them call you Fairy, half call you Angel, because you look like both." Lindsey seemed pleased. 250 Jen looked at him and he smiled. "You, they call Madonna. Not for the singer, but for the religious one. You held a baby once for a mother, just as the sun was going down. You seemed to glow, and Preacher saw you. He declared you a modern Madonna, the symbol of hope and renewal. He even preaches sermons about you now and then, says you're proof saints still walk on earth." 251 Jen glowed with pleasure and embarrassment in equal measure. "And Dean?" 252 Shaggy seemed reticent, somehow. "Him, we call Warrior. The shelters have televisions, and a lot of us saw the VA series, and the public service announcements. Besides, one look from him when somebody gets too close to either of you makes them realize touching you might not be such a good idea." 253 They turned and looked at me and I shrugged. They just grinned and took my arms, leaving Shaggy to struggle with the equipment. 254 We filmed an old black guy who was an amazing guitarist, a magician with a slide bar. He could make his guitar laugh, cry, cluck like a chicken and bay like a hound. He sang old blues, and introduced himself, tongue in cheek, as Blind Melon Chitlin. He had a younger man with him he called Harp, who was really good on harmonica, and they harmonized together pretty well. They refused to tell us about themselves. I filmed them through several songs, and their patter in between to the audience, before we gave them a hundred bucks and left. 255 We filmed Preacher as he stood on a wooden box, a Bible in one hand, and preached the gospels, surprised at the gentleness of his sermons. "Anyone can preach hellsfire and brimstone, scare the shit..er crap out of people, but that's not how I see God. So I preach how I think He wants me to, and pray that I reach at least one person a week." 256 He was scruffy, his Bible falling apart. Apparently preaching the word of God on the streets doesn't pay as well as juggling. He was very frank when he talked about his life. "I was a fool, living in the corporate world and chasing money and success, placing it above everything, family, health, integrity. I'd cut the throat of the best friend I ever had if I thought it would help me achieve my goals. It caught up to me when the economy collapsed, and I lost it all, the cars, the houses, my family. I ended up addicted, wandering the streets, until I met a street preacher. He took me under his wing, nursed me back to health and sanity, before he passed. I took up his mantle, and I've been here every since. It's amazing how little you need, and I don't miss my old life, except for my family. I have a daughter I haven't seen since she was twelve. she would be twenty now. My wife remarried, a good man by all accounts, and he treats them well. I thought it best to leave them to their happy life." 257 When the interview was over, Linds and Jen took him into a thrift store, and bought him the three best suits they had in his size, along with half a dozen shirts and ties and four pair of wingtips. They insisted he look the part of a serious man of God, and he didn't argue. "Far be it from me to fight an Angel and a Madonna," he said, grinning. There was a bookstore across the street, and on impulse I walked in, and bought the best Bible they had. He came out of the dressing room just as I got back, and I handed it to him. "Here," I said, "this completes the outfit." 258 He looked at me, at the Bible, and huge tears appeared, sliding down his cheeks. When he could talk he said, "The word of God, delivered by a Warrior. Perhaps there's hope for this world after all. I would ask God to bless you, but He already has, when He led you to each other. Carry on in your good works." He walked out of the store, holding his Bible high, preaching before he had gone a dozen feet. 259 We ran up on a short, bald guy with a wispy beard, and was mesmerized by the quality of his voice as he sang bits of different operas, in the correct language every time. He told his street name was Caruso, and that's all he would share. 260 Chapre 11 261 Months had gone by. We were all dating, or so I thought. Lindsey found a guy she really liked. Jen spent the night in the house every once in a while, to give them alone time. She smiled for a few months, before he suddenly dumped her. She spent three days in the house, sleeping in the same bed with Jen, recovering. She didn't talk about it much, saying he wanted something she didn't want to give, so they went their separate ways. 262 I got tired of everyone going out in the hall to talk to Miss Agnes, so I put her in the living room, over the fireplace. We would all talk to her, and every once in a while the girls would ask me to leave, while they talked about 'girl stuff'. I didn't mind, because I would do the same, talking to her when the girls were in their apartment. 263 I started dating a new woman, a tall redhead I had met during an interview, and we seemed to hit it off. She and the girls had a mutual dislike of each other, and Miss Agnes expressed her opinion. Every time Simone was at the house, no matter what the thermostat was set at, she was either burning up or freezing cold, while the rest of us were comfortable. The girls would grin and look at the mantle, while she complained. 264 Jen became a little distant, not spending as much time in the house as before, as did Lindsey. I thought they were being kind and giving me space. Boy, did I get that wrong. I was talking about how high maintenance Simone was becoming with Lindsey when she hauled off and slapped me. 265 "What the hell was that for?" 266 "For being a screaming idiot. The bitch is a gold digger. She walks around your house looking like she's appraising everything she sees for an auction. Why the hell you bother with her when you have so much better waiting for you is beyond me." 267 Okay, I really am an idiot. I had no idea who she was talking about. "Just who would that be?" 268 She slapped me harder. "Miss Agnes, a little help here?" 269 A picture of Jen and I, dressed to the nines in tux and evening gown, accepting our Emmy, fell of the mantle. I picked it up, smiling at the image, before it hit me. "Jen? Really? I'm too old for..." I managed to avoid the slap this time, or so I thought. I moved quickly, only to have a book fly off a shelf and hit me square in the nose. And the book was moving pretty fast. 270 I rubbed my nose, watching Lindsey grin. "Thank you, Miss Agnes. Think if we half beat him to death, he'll catch on?" Another book flew off the shelf, stopped just short of my nose, and fell gently to the floor. 271 Lindsey grinned again. " I think we've got his attention. Now you listen to me, big brother. Jen loves you, and she has for a long time. She hides in her bedroom in our apartment and cries every time that redheaded slut comes over. She's a gold digger, Dean. She looks at this big house and sees money. She's tried to pump us about how much money you got, but she can't get anything from us because we don't know and don't care, but in her mind the figure grows every week. You need to show the skank the door, and start working on your true love. I would bet everything I have or ever will have in this life that it won't take long before wedding bells ring. Now get off your butt and do the right thing. Miss Agnes and I will be watching, so you better not screw up." 272 With that she stood on her tip toes and gave me a kiss on the cheek, turned and walked out the door. I picked the book up, idly reading the title. Without thinking I asked. "You really think Jen and I are a good match, Mom?" 273 I had been comparing my mother to Miss Agnes. My mom was a good woman, but she was never prone to show emotion. Oh, I was sure she loved me, but I later learned my parents had decided early on in their marriage not to have children, and I was a mistake. I look back now after I found that out, and wonder. It would explain the remoteness of their emotion, and had a lot to do with me joining the Army as soon as I graduated. I got exactly three letters the whole time I was in service. People would definitely think I was losing it if they knew I felt more connected to a woman who had passed over fifty years ago than anyone alive now, except of course, the girls. 274 No sooner had I said "Mom" when a warmth enveloped my whole being, it felt good, like...joy, maybe. I felt arms around me, and a scent I couldn't describe until later, when the girls found an old bottle of perfume that had to have belonged to Miss Agnes. Oddly, I wasn't the least bit surprised when I looked down and saw I was dangling several feet off the ground. I laughed. 275 "I take it's okay that I call you Mom now. And I'm pretty sure this is a sign you approve of Jen. Now, what do I do about Simone, and how do I go about finding out if Jen is open to us deepening our relationship?" 276 When I said Simone, she dropped me like a rock, and I almost didn't land on my feet. I felt a touch on my cheek, and then she was gone. I looked at the portrait and grinned. 277 Simone came over that afternoon, for some reason she liked to come over instead of me picking her up. She could see I was a little stiff, and when she asked I told her I had some things on my mind. We were going on a bike ride, so when she went to the bathroom I took the opportunity to pull it out of the garage. When I got back inside the bathroom door was open, and I could hear everything she was saying. "He's acting a little odd, Brenda. I need to pull him in pretty quick. Yeah, I know, but he's got to be worth some bucks, his house is probably worth almost a million, and as soon as I have him this piece of junk is going up for sale. It's always too hot or cold, and I feel like I'm suffocating half the time. While we wait for it to sell I'll get rid of those girls, I don't like the way the dark one looks at Dean, and the blonde looks like she could cheerfully kill me any minute. While we wait for the house to sell, I'll put Jackson in the apartment. After all, he works a lot of weekends, and I'll need someone to keep me company, now won't I?" He'll never..." 278 That was all she got out before the toilet literally blew up behind her, blowing every bit of the contents directly on to her. I could have heard her scream at the station, nine miles away. She looked up, still screaming, and saw me. She paled a little, wondering how much I had heard, and dropped her phone. Deciding the best defense was a good offense, she started ranting. 279 "Damn it, Dean! Look at this mess! Now I need to go home and change, and have a long shower. I'd do it here but you never seem to have enough hot water.You need to seriously consider selling this money pit. We could take it and buy a nice, modern house, maybe with a real pool and a hot tub, for entertaining." 280 "Do you intend to entertain Jackson in the hot tub? Maybe do a little skinny dipping in the pool while I work weekends? I heard every word, Simone, so don't try to do damage control, don't say anything at all. You're pretty good between the sheets, but that's all you got going for you. Did I ever once mention a deeper relationship, or hint about marriage? I did not, because when I do pick a life mate, it wouldn't ever have been you. Here's what I'm going to do. You clean up as best you can, while I lay some towels on your car seat. The I want you to leave, and never come back. And if you could, hurry it up, you're starting to stink the place up." 281 Her face went from pale to red to pale and then to almost purple as I spoke. She was screaming when I closed the door, and I heard another whoosh of water and her screams became a gurgle. "Let it go, Mom. You made your point." I lay some of my old towels I used for various projects on her seat, seeing no need to waste the good ones. I looked up once, to see the curtains flutter in the apartment. Someone was watching. I got on the bike and rode away. 282 Simone was gone when I got back. Judging by the scraps of paper lying around, she had tried to leave a note. I sighed and got the vacuum cleaner out, then mopped and cleaned the bathroom. "Did you really have to be so messy? The conversation I heard did the trick." All I heard was a faint sound like someone humming a happy tune, and I let it go. 283 Chapter 12 For the next couple of weeks, Lindsey seemed on a mission. She had a new boyfriend, and she made it a point to leave Jen and I alone as much as possible. Jen must have realized something had changed, because she started snuggling more, kissing me goodnight when she left. The kisses got longer, there was even a hint of tongue in the last few, and she seemed surprised at my enthusiasm. I was trying to figure a way to sound out her feelings towards me, when she took charge. 285 "My family is coming in two weeks, so we need to air out the bedrooms. I never told them we broke up, in fact, I told them our feelings were getting stronger. It wasn't a lie, at least on my part. When they get here, my things will be in OUR bedroom, and they won't just be window dressing. I'm moving in, tonight, into a full blown relationship with you. I've loved you forever, and I can't take it anymore. The choice is yours. Love me, or I'll move out tomorrow. I've had a really good offer from a station three states away. If you don't want me, I'll be gone in two weeks. Time to decide." 286 She was quivering, tears threatening to spill out, as she waited for my answer. I tried to look as serious as I could. "I have conditions. I'm not sleeping with a bunch of stuffed animals. You need to pick a bedroom out after your folks leave, and decorate it for a little girl, and put them on her bed. I think our first daughter will really enjoy them, knowing her Mom had them when she was her age. And on the subject of children, I think three is a good number. I don't care if they're all girls or all boys. And we need to start in another year, I'm not getting any younger here. And we're keeping Lindsey for as long as we can, that way we'll have a built in baby sitter. What do you think?" 287 Her mouth quivered and the tears overflowed. When she finally found her voice, she said "I think...I think..." and fainted dead away. I picked her up off the sofa, carried her over to my big rocker, and rocked her, caressing her hair and cheeks, until she woke with a start. She looked confused until she saw me, than started crying again, soft little sobs as she held me like I might disappear. When she finally was able to speak, she whispered in a small voice. "Do you really mean it?" 288 "Yes, baby I do. I think I loved you from the first time I laid eyes on you, I just tried to fight it. I didn't think I was very good marriage material. But I can't deny my feelings for you. I want to marry you, have kids, celebrate our fiftieth anniversary together surrounded by our children and grandchildren, with maybe a great grandchild thrown in for good measure. So Jennifer Michelle Conlin, will you marry me? If you'll get off my lap, I'll get down on a knee for you." 289 She gripped me tighter. "I like where I am just fine. And the answer is YES! I loved you as long as you've loved me, maybe longer. I think I've been searching for you my whole life. One thing though, I'm not sure about the kids. I'm kind of superstitious of odd numbers, so if it all right if we have four?" 290 We were both a little hesitant at first, but got over it pretty quickly. Her body was lean, with just enought curves to make you realize she was a woman. Her breasts were small, but perfectly proportioned to her body, and I learned her nipples were really sensitive. I'm not going to go into the positions we used or the passion we had, suffice to say we did everything a man and woman in love could do for each other, as many times as possible. When we finally stopped, exhausted, we heard a giggle coming from the vents. 291 "MOM! You perv, were you watching?" We felt the gentle caress on both our cheeks, and the same thought popped into our mind. Engagement ring. The covers flew off us, and I knew what the venerable lady wanted. I tugged Jen up. "Come with me. Mom wants to give us an engagement gift." 292 We went, naked, into the attic, where I pulled the box down off the beam, opening it. I dropped to one knee. "I know I don't have to ask again, but I'm doing it right this time. Jennifer, will you marry me?" I slipped the engagement ring on her finger, not the least surprised that it fit like it was made for her. The diamond was large, and it looked enormous on her finger. She looked down and started shaking. "I can't...it's too much..." 293 I closed my hand over hers. "Hush baby. She wants you to have it. Wear it with pride, and remember the woman who thought you worthy of it." 294 The tears flowed, and as she sobbed, she whispered. "I wish you were physical, Miss Agnes, I want nothing more in this life right now than to be able to kiss you." She stopped suddenly, suffused in light, and I saw her lips flatten, and the look of pure joy in her eyes. Jen didn't say anything afterwards, she just took my hand and lead me back to bed. 295 We woke up when a blond haired blue eyed fairy screamed and dove between us, smothering whoever she could reach with kisses. "It's about time! Now, tell me everything." 296 She scooted down until she was between us, and refused to move. "Uh, Linds, we're kind of naked here..." 297 "That's supposed to surprise me? I'll bet it will be a long time before Jen discovers she has sleepwear again. You need to relax, believe it or not, big brother, I've seen naked people before." 298 So we alternated telling her of the events from the night before, leaving out the juicy parts, but she got the idea. When we got to the part about the ring, she had to see it. Tears glistened in her eyes. She then wondered aloud if Miss Agnes had a surprise for her when she got engaged. 299 "Why don't you ask her. And from now on, in this house, she will only respond to Mom. She had five boys and never got spoil a daughter, so you girls are going to get a lot of attention in the future. Prepare to be pampered. And I would bet my soul that when you find the right one, she'll let you know. Am I right, here?" 300 Her perfume wafted over us, and settled on Lindsey. Her hair ruffled like someone was stroking it. We all knew, Mom would not forget her. 301 Lindsey and Jen started to move things over. They were talking about furniture when I laughed. "Unless you have something you hold special, honey, leave everything but your clothes and personal items." They looked at each other and giggled, and never brought it up again. Jen was firmly settled in by the time her family showed up, all of them this time, and for a week the house was filled with the small roar of a big, happy family. Jen never said anything, but made a lot of hand gestures when she talked, using her left hand. Jan, one of the twins, finally spotted the ring and screamed, holding Jen's hand high so everyone could see. Pandemonium set in, and the males wisely withdrew to the pool. We talked and sipped soft drinks while the women made plans. First, they had to talk about my prospects, followed by the ring. 302 "Honey, how much money does Dean have? This house is huge, and that ring probably costs more than your father would make in years." 303 "Dean is really good with money, Mom. That's why I'm putting him in charge of our finances after we marry. His parents were killed in an accident while he was in service. He inherited their estate, got both life insurance policies and a settlement from the trucking company. He paid cash for the house, his vehicles are paid for, and he makes decent money at his job. We're, oh, what did Uncle Saul say all the time? Oh yes, we're comfortable. We're going to need the room Mom, I intend to follow in your footsteps, but I think I'll stop at four." 304 She hesitated a bit before grinning again. "As for the ring, it's an heirloom, a gift from his Mom. It was always supposed to go the the first daughter, but all they ever had was Dean. I got it by default, to be handed down when my time comes, probably to my first granddaughter." Technically everything she said was true, so no one questioned it. 305 Chapter 13 We settled into a comfortable routine, working at our jobs and our side project. Our contracts came up again, just when we were nominated for our third regional Emmy, as well as a national Emmy, for a story we did on corporate corruption. They knew the offers we were getting, and were desperate to keep us. I'd like to say the story came about from dogged investigative work, but it was dumped in our lap by one of the girls' old friends. Needless to say, we got a significant bump in salary. 307 We came home one Saturday night after working on what we were turning into a documentary on homeless people to find a surprise waiting for us. We had filmed two young black guys doing a rap while Boom Boom and Tin Can provided percussion. I personally didn't like rap but thought they had talent. Jen and I had decided to stop soon and start final edits. Even after that, we should have almost two hours of quality video we were going to try to market. 308 The surprise was Jasmine, their old roommate. She got out of her car warily, not sure what kind of welcome she was going to get. Lindsey was a little sharp with her greeting. "Jasmine! What are you doing slumming among normal people? Shouldn't you be sipping champagne with your CEO in your private apartment, taking dictation or something?" 309 She surprised us by starting to cry. Not little sniffles, but full on gasping for breath between sobs crying. My girls immediately went into protective mode, taking her into the living room, sitting her down between them on the sofa and hugging her while she cried it out. I made myself scarce, going into the kitchen and putting water on for tea, A die hard coffee man, my time overseas taught me the value of a good hot cup of tea. I preferred mine plain with just a slice of lemon, but Lindsey liked cream and sugar, and Jen went heavy on just the cream. When the pot had boiled, I put it on a service with the cups and condiments, and went into the living room, prepared to put it on the coffee table and disappear again. Jen got up and took my hand, pulling me to my big rocker. 310 "You need to hear this honey. Jasmine may be in real trouble, and I told her if anyone could help her, it would be you." 311 It was a sad, sordid tale, a young innocent seduced by the money, power, and lifestyle. Jasmine had gone from being personal assistant to mistress in less than a year. Incredibly attractive, he flaunted her as a showpiece on his business trips. He even got her to flirt with clients, to get better terms. Then one night three months ago he dropped his briefcase in a druken stupor, and it fell open. He passed out on the hotel bed, so she started sorting the papers and placing them back inside, in order. Naturally she read them, and was appalled at what she read. He was bribing contractors, federal inspectors, shuffling hidden money to his foreign clients, taking almost twice as much back for the clean money, and slipping the rest slowly into his business. He was literally making millions on this. What upset her most of all, though, was most of the clients he dealt with overseas, a part of his business she was never allowed into, were either out and out terrorists, or those sympathetic to their cause. 312 She panicked, shoving them back into the case until reason returned. Keeping an eye on her sleeping boss, she took every page out, captured it on her cell phone,and sent it into the Cloud. Closing it carefully when she was done, she placed it where he always kept it, on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Afraid to alter her routine, she slid into bed. 313 "It's been two weeks, and I bet I haven't slept three hours a night. I was wondering how to slip the information to you secretly, until he had a trip scheduled to Paris, to meet his customers. He wants me to go with him, and do more than flirt. His exact words were 'You have to be nice to them. Give them anything they want and smile. The deal I'm working on will be worth billions. Your bonus, should you please them, will be 250,000 in an offshore account.' I don't know what pisses me off more, him expecting me to whore myself out for the company, or him offering me a measly quarter million for helping secure a multi-billion dollar deal. Either way, there was no way I would have done it. I don't have a lot of pride left, but I have some, and the thought of putting American lives in danger nauseates me. I've got all the information with me. What should I do?" 314 They all looked at me. "Does he know you're here?" 315 "No, he thinks I went shopping for new clothes to impress the clients. He even gave me ten grand to spend. I got on a plane to New York, caught a cab to a local rental agency instead of a national chain, and drove straight here." 316 "So, we have a day or two. Girls, keep an eye on your friend, make her comfortable. I need to go into the Library and make some calls." The library was just that, a room of dark paneled walls, comfortable chairs, and shelves of books. I checked, many were first editions and valuable. I asked the real estate agent once why no one took them and the other things we had found, and she said the last heir lived on the other coast, and had no interest in flying here to inventory the contents of a house and garage he had never seen. His instructions were to include everything, and make hauling away the junk my responsibility. 317 I sat at the massive oak desk and opened my laptop. Once I found the number I wanted, I dialed. 318 "FBI, how may I help you?" 319 "I need to talk to Agent James Donner. It's a matter of great importance, and it's fairly time sensitive." 320 I could tell by the tone of voice the woman had probably heard those exact words a thousand times. "I'm afraid Special Agent Donner is out of the office at this time. Would you like to leave a message or speak to another agent?" 321 "I would not. You tell him Dean Harwell of KCBS called, with information vital to the nation, about terrorist activity here and abroad. Tell him if he doesn't call me back in thirty minutes I'm calling Paul Montgomery in Homeland, and give him the information." 322 That got her interest. These guys were supposed to be on the same team, but there was a lot of interagency rivalry going on, and the thought of another agency one upping them was something they couldn't stand. 323 "Would you please hold?" I knew she was going to transfer me to some middle management drone who would only muddy the waters. 324 "Not necessary. You tell Jim he has twenty four minutes left." I hung up while she was still talking. 325 Fifteen minutes the phone rang. I answered on the third ring. "Dean Harwell." 326 "This better be fucking good. I'm right in the middle of something." 327 "Bigger than exposing an international moneylaundring operation involving crooked contractors, bought federal inspectors, millions of dollars leaving the country and dirty money coming back, along with terrorist connections? If so, sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to what you were doing." 328 "Goddamnit Dean! You sure about this?" 329 "Got the paperwork to prove it." 330 "What do you want?" 331 " Nothing, this is too big. Exclusive rights to the story would be nice. One leak and my informant stops talking. I also want full immunity for her, she's the one who brought it to me when she found out, and I want her put on the whistle blower program. If you want to make sure I'm serious, get up here as soon as possible. I can't risk the exposure of her coming to you, the guys you want will disappear like smoke." 332 "Give me an address. I'll charter a plane." 333 "Just you and one or two computer guys. You show up in force and it will not go well." 334 "Done. It'll be just me and one more, in case this is a wild goose chase." He got my address, and told me to meet him at the airport in ninety minutes. I'd met Jim while I was still working for the national network. He was a good guy. More importantly, he was like a bulldog when he latched on to a case. He couldn't be bought, he couldn't be frightened, he couldn't be intimidated by his superiors. Because he didn't play ball, he would never rise higher than he was right now, but he was so damn good they put up with him. 335 He showed up with Christen "Christy' La Mond. If he was a bulldog, she was a wolf, sniffing around something, examining everything from all angles, finding a weakness and going in for the kill. They were a very effective team, partnered up mostly because no one else would work with them. I found out by accident they were secret lovers, and wouldn't marry because one would either have to give up their job or take another assignment, usually far away. I kept their confidence, and they knew they could trust me. 336 They collected their luggage and were soon in my library. Jasmine had printed out the hottest of the information. It took them two hours to read, and when they sat back they couldn't even speak. Jen and Linds made them a late dinner, and we showed them to their room. We had put both sets of luggage in the biggest guest room. They looked at me. 337 "What? Unless things have changed, one or the other would sneak into a bedroom as soon as you think we're asleep. You're safe here. We'll call you at eight for breakfast. Oh, and if you hear something go bump in the night, ignore it. It's just Miss Agnes. She watches over the place. Sweet dreams." 338 I shut the door before they could talk, and Jen giggled all the way down the hall. 339 Chapter 14 Once she got over being nervous, Jasmine told them everything, and gave them the rest of what she had. I thought they were going to pass out. Later, after they waded through everything, they sat with me in the library, sipping my scotch. I hated scotch, it was a taste I never acquired. I rarely drank anything, but when I drank whiskey it was always straight rye, on the rocks. I would sip slowly, letting the ice melt and dilute the whiskey. Usually two was all I had. 341 "You have no idea what you stumbled on to here, Dean. This is going to spread like a computer virus, and get just as ugly. You don't get away with this level of shit for as long as these guys have unless you've got a protector who is WAY up the food chain. Eventually, Homeland, ATF, hell every alphabet agency in the country is going to be involved, including the CIA. They might get to turn a few, and gather good intel for years. As long as we remain in charge, you get full access. And your friend should end up a very wealthy girl, if things play out like we expect." 342 Christy grinned. "On a personal note, we can't tell you what being able to stay here, get into the same bed and sleep the whole night together, means to us. It's almost like a honeymoon. I hope we didn't make too much noise. I heard somebody giggle just as we finished a marathon last night." 343 "I'm sure no one will say anything," I said. Mentally I said "MOM! Stop perving, these people are our guests, and I like them." I felt her fingers on my cheek, and could almost see her grin. Just my luck to buy a house that's haunted by a ghost that's also a voyeur. 344 Jasmine had to go back to work, but as luck would have it, just before they boarded the plane her 'uncle' showed up, saying her grandmother had passed, and she was needed at home. Her boss tried to talk her into going, but Jasmine, her nerves so frayed the tears she shed were real, refused. He finally relented if she promised to be on the next plane after the funeral. Of course, both her grandmothers were alive and well, and Uncle Jim escorted her straight to a safe house, under heavy guard. 345 They had bugged the suite in Paris, state of the art stuff that beat the detectors his guests used to sweep the room twice daily with. Jim and Christy were there as guests while Interpol and French police listened. Christy dug her fingernails into Jim's arm so hard the bruises and scratches were still there when they got home as the name of a senior Senator and a mid-level Congressman were mentioned, the bad guys debating over how much they deserved for keeping them in the shadows. Jim instinctively pulled away from her when two Cabinet heads were mentioned, or Christy would have broken his arm. 346 In the end they let everyone go back to their respective countries, tracking every movement, listening to every phone call and conversation. Jasmine called her boss and told him she had inherited her grandmother's house and estate, and would not be returning. The Feds had it all set up when he checked it out, and they had copies of everything from the death certificate to the will available to 'hack'. Mr. Moody tired to talk her into coming back, citing their deep connection and feelings for each other, and Jasmine actually seemed sad when she refused. 347 Jen and I were outside a home three states away before daylight on a February morning, filming as they arrested a man, and taking a short but dynamic statement from the FBI. We had done this deliberately, leaving a false trail to where the leak originated, to protect Jasmine. Agent LaMond looked every bit the professional she was in her severe suit, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, as she issued the statement. We were streaming it live, and soon it got picked up by every network and cable news outlet in the country. We were featured on the national nightly news, with every installment we filmed of the story. The Congressman and the Senator sang like canaries, hoping for reduced sentences, but there is no reduction for treason. They both got thirty years to life, as well as the two Cabinet heads, various undersecretaries, and a few lower level flunkies. The treason insured most of them got to spend their sentence at Fort Leavenworth, and not a camp cupcake. They had to move all of them in less than six months. Even if the inmates were all convicted of crimes, they were all still soldiers, and they took a really dim view of anyone betraying the country and their brothers in arms. The wardens finally figured out the prisoners were all suffering from a malady that caused them to become clumsy and fall down a lot. They fell so many times they stayed bruised constantly. 348 The businesses had their assets seized by the government, and all the CEO's were arrested. Most of them got life, and most were divorced as they fought it in court, the women trying to secure a future for their children before the money ran out. The Inspectors who falsified reports were set to a supermax prison, and all but two died the first year. The President ended up firing several of his aides, three department heads besides the ones who were charged, assorted undersecretaries, his press secretary, and his lawyer. Faith in his ability to lead fell to a record low for a sitting President. The next year was an election year, and his campaign had been cranking out the ads, fueled by big business. The ads stopped when the big companies stopped funneling money to him, hurting because of the economic shortfalls the crisis had created, and he soon announced his plans to retire after this term. Jim told me much later that he had come within millimeters of having impeachment proceedings being started. 349 What happened to Jasmine? Well, Jasmine ended up smelling like a rose, pun intended. Unofficially, Jim recommended a lawyer, a super eagle, who swooped down and protected her interests like she was his only child. She really hadn't done anything worse than having an affair with a married man, and she had turned everything over when she found it, contacted the FBI, and co-operated fully, so they never pressed charges. 350 Her blown whistle saved the government almost a billion dollars. Her cut would have been staggering, and the feds were dragging their heels, when Jasmine, through her lawyer, said she would consider a smaller percentage, and her lawyer fees. It was a limited time offer, and they jumped all over it. I asked Jim once how much she got, and he grinned. "Usually in cases like this, lawyers get at least a third, and her lawyer was thrilled to receive eleven million dollars. You do the math." Wow. 351 There was a downside. Jasmine would be a tempting target before the trial. Kill the only witness and things will be simpler to defend. Jim thought it a stupid idea. "We already got enough to hang them several times over, and we're finding more every day. Even if they were to kill her, they would still go to jail. Killing her would change things, and it would be hard to get parole on death row. She's probably safe, but we're going to keep an eye on her, at least for a while. The first whiff of danger and we'll make her disappear. 352 She ended up staying with us for four months before the first trial date got close, then they moved her to a safe house. I had moved Lindsey into the house, because I didn't want her to be away from us if something did happen. We liked it so much she was still in her bedroom nine months later. 353 I didn't worry too much about something happening because I had a foolproof security system. I had Miss Agnes. Apparently a ghost doesn't need a lot of sleep. One thing you never do is mess with a woman's daughter, especially if mom happens to be a supernatural spirit who is intensely protective. 354 Linds was dating a new guy. He was handsome, he was charming, he said the right words. Jen and I couldn't stand him. "He reminds me of a male version of Simone." Jen gritted her teeth, for some reason she still held resentment over her. 355 I'd tried to love her out of Jen's mind, but it wasn't working until I accidentally said something that set her off. "You know, she was trying to rob the bank. You ended up owning the keys to the vault, or in my case heart. Why try to steal something you already own?" She just grinned and we pretty much forgot about her. 356 Lindsey had a little money, thanks to Jasmine and the documentary we had finally finished. The boyfriend was sniffing around, trying to find out more. After a couple of weeks she finally grew tired of him, and told us she was breaking up with him. He was coming over for a barbeque, along with a few more couples, some neigbors, some from the station, and she was going to tell him afterwards. We mingled, ate, laughed, played some couples games guaranteed to bring laughter. When one contest about how well you knew your partner was over, the numbers were tallied and Linds and her date came in dead last. He was a little peeved, and drank more, getting surly towards the end. He ended up passed out on a lounger. We left him, and the evening wound down. 357 I looked over at him when the other guests left, and told the girls it looked like I needed to clean up. Linds said to let her handle it, so we watched, at a distance, as she woke him up, making him drink several cups of coffee. She came over to us. "I can handle it from here. You guys look beat. Go to bed. I'll give you the post relationship analysis over breakfast." 358 They were talking quietly as we left them. Forty minutes later we were snuggled together, asleep. It had been a long day and we were spent. 359 Thirty minutes later the covers were snatched off and I was on the floor. Wondering what had happened, I could feel Miss Agnes, and she was really agitated. I woke instantly. "What's wrong, Mom?" Lindseys picture flew off Jen's dresser, and it was glowing. The drawer to my nightstand flew open, and the pistol I kept there dropped beside me. I was up in an instance, running out of the room with the Smith .40 in my hand, racking the slide as I moved. Jen was up, huddling in the middle of the bed. "Stay here and lock the door! Where is she, Mom?" 360 The back door flew open and the glow went up the steps to the empty apartment. I could hear Lindsey screaming as the door swung open for me. He had her tied to the bed, her clothes looked cut off and lay in a pile at her feet. He was mauling her breasts savagely while he told her what he was going to do to her. "Tell me no, tell me we won't be together anymore? What the fuck, slut? By the time I'm done with you you'll be a good little bitch, do what I say. We're gonna take your money and move far away from here, somewhere your asshole friends can't find you, live like kings. Now stop screaming!" 361 He backhanded her and blood flew from a split lip. She sagged back on the bed, out cold. Something must have warned him, because he turned slightly as I got to him. He got a closeup view of my pistol as I raked it across his face, blood pouring from the gash the front sight made. Before he could move I came back across his face, spliting the othe cheek. He tried to jump up, but his jeans were around his ankles and he fell in a heap. I probably would have beaten him to death if it hadn't been for Mom. She literally dragged me off him and held me wrapped in her astral arms until the bloodlust cleared. Jen, despite my instructions, had grabbed her own .380 and had come charging after me. Linds was unconscious on the bed, and Mom, feeling me calm, let me go. I grabbed the first phone I could find, and called 911, telling them I had stopped a sexual assault in progress and had subdued the attacker. When I told them Lindsey was tied to the bed and unconscious, they instructed me not to untie her until they got there, and not to touch her if at all possible. 362 Mine was a pretty upscale address, and they were there in four minutes. Jen had gone down the steps to wait on them. They came in, guns drawn, relaxing only when one of them recognized us from television. One look at the bed had them summoning the EMT's who had followed them. They took about fifty photos before they allowed Jen to cover her up. A policewoman removed and bagged the restraints, a look of sympathy on her face, turning to disgust when she looked down. He was still out, but was already in handcuffs. 363 My official story was that I woke, worried about Lindsey because of the breakup, and went to check on her. I noticed the light on in the apartment, and knowing no one was supposed to be there went looking. I caught him trying to rape her, a struggle ensued, and I managed to knock him unconscious. My weapon had already been secured, and I felt no need to bring it up. If it had been, they would have seen the blood on it, and realized it wasn't just a fight to subdue him. 364 I had to admit to myself If Mom hadn't restrained me I would have beaten him to death, without a doubt. My battlelust was what kept me alive overseas, and once it's unleashed, it has to run it's course before I come back to reality. 365 The man was tried, convicted, and sentenced to seven to ten years in a state medium security prison, and would have to register as a sex offender when he was released. Come to find it out he was a middle school teacher, and he lost his career forever. He went to jail with two deep scars on his cheeks, something to remember me by. Lindsey didn't have to testify much, because she was unconscious early in the assault. She did tell how he dragged her up the steps, kicked the door open, and tie her to the bed. She remembered him hitting her, and the rest was a blank. 366 Mr. Teacher had an attorney that tried to spin it as rough sex and fantasy gone wrong and misunderstood, but no one bought it. The jury was out for a whopping twenty minutes before they were back with the verdict. 367 Chapter 15 We had finished our little documentary, "What's In It For Me, " and subtitled it "The Talent On Ninth Street." Shaggy, Pocahontas, Tin Cup, Boom Boom, Longfellow, Preacher, Caruso(the opera singer), Juggler, The Nun, Street Rap, finishing with Blind Melon Chitlin and Harp. Oddly enough, they had gotten together and practiced an old gospel song, the voices blending together far more smoothly than one would think, for the grand finale. When the last notes faded I focused on Jen, doing a closeup of her face, the tears obvious on her cheeks. 369 "These people are in every large town or city. You probably walk by them every day. They more than likely have a hand out. Next time they ask, ask back. What's in it for me? What return will I get on this money? Maybe, like the people here on Ninth Street, they will surprise, possibly even move you. When you hand over the dollars, ask yourself, who got more out of the exchange, you or them? If you look at it like that, you'll realize it was money well spent. And even if they look like bums and make you uneasy, remember, these are people too, and there, but for the Grace of God, could be any of us." 370 We slowly faded into a blank screen and ran the credits as the gospel song played again. 371 I knew some people in New York from my network days, and I sent them samples, to see if it was salable. In two weeks we had an agent and five firm offers. Netflix won, and they featured it in their ad campaign for coming attractions. 372 At my insistence, we each got thirty per cent of the profits. The other ten per cent went to Shaggy. He was stunned when we told us what we had decided, even more stunned at what ten per cent amounted to. He was listed in the credits as talent scout and associate producer, under his real name, William 'Shaggy' Peters. I was listed as director/producer, Jen was listed as executive producer, Lindsey was titled sound director and associate producer. 373 Shaggy said the best part was his mother calling to tell him how proud she was of him, and how she told every one at the facility he was her son. He took part of the money and upgraded her apartment, and put money in her account every month. We all went with him to the funeral when she passed the next year. He was surprised by the size of the turnout, but she had been a very popular woman. He renewed friendships with cousins he hadn't seen in twenty years. The most moving part of the service was when he got up and sang 'Itsy Bitsy Spider', looking at her coffin the whole time. Any eyes that were dry quickly watered. 374 Things settled down for awhile, and wedding plans were completed. We invited very few people. I flew my grandmother in, and she was very taken by Jen and Lindsey, and Jen's large family. It seemed she was lonely, forced to live in a facility because of bad investments. They had taken her house and auctioned it off, using the money to defray costs, and soon it was going to run out. None of the rest of the family were inclined to help her. She never told me any of this, not, as she said, wanting to burden me with her problems. 375 She tearfully confessed this to the girls and Jen's mom one night, and the women of my family, her Mom included, were on me with a vengeance the next morning. Miss Agnes seemed to be frowning as well. I guess the shocked look on my face convinced them I really didn't know, and Jen's mother got right in my face. "What are you going to do about it?" 376 I looked them all dead in the eye. "I don't know. The only thing I can think of is maybe find her a nice room in a big house somewhere, rent free, where all her needs are taken care of, surrounded by girls that will probably learn to love her as time passes. Know anywhere with an opening?" 377 Jen just grinned at the rest. "Told you so," she smirked, as she went to find Grams and give her the news. Miss Agnes brightened, and her smile was back, so I guess she approved. Maybe they would hit it off. 378 I think Gram and Jen's family were a little surprised with some of our guests. Shaggy had rented a large van and driven every one of the street people who wanted to come to the house. He and Jen had helped them with suits, and Pocahontas had on a very nice native costume, complete with beads and bells, her almost silver hair hanging to her waist in two thick braids. 379 The documentary had changed a lot of things. Ninth Street had become a tourist attraction, to the point police had to keep someone there just to move the crowds along. The Mayor wanted them to get what he called 'performance permits', and the whole thing was getting out of hand. Some could handle the pressure of being semi-famous, but many resented the loss of privacy. There were a lot of what Shaggy called 'posers and pretenders' around, people not homeless at all, but dressing the part, trying to make a few bucks and get noticed. Crime had also increased, the thought of all that cash floating around just too much of a lure to the bad guys. Tin Can and Pocahontas were roughed up pretty good before Boom Boom pricked the two guys with the tip of his knife. By pricked, I mean shoved as deep as he could get it before they ran away. 380 In fact, this would be the last time the Ninth Street group would all be together. Pochahontas was finally going back to the reservation to stay, and taking Boom Boom and Tin Cup with her. Preacher had gotten certified as an ordained minister by some group off the internet. He only did it so he could legally officiate at our wedding, and he had been offered a small church, independents who had lost their minister. It didn't pay much, but did come with a small house. He was excited, and we were happy for him. Shaggy, of course, had already moved on. The documentary money enabled him to get a better apartment. He was a little over three years sober now, and worked a lot with his AA group, trying to get others help. He admitted the success rate was pretty low, but if they got just one person a year sober, he said, it was worth every manhour they invested and more. 381 Caruso was offered a chance to sing with a touring Broadway musical, and he would be leaving in three weeks. Longfellow surprised us all by applying and getting a part time job at the community college, teaching English literature. He was crying like a baby when he told us his now grown daughter had sought him out, forgiving him for his past, and working on a future. 382 We had the wedding at our house, which people thought strange, but we were pretty sure Mom was bound to the house, and we refused to have it without her. As Jen walked down the red carpet placed carefully over the manicured lawn on the arm of her father, I thought to myself if I died tomorrow, I had lived a wonderful life. She was wearing an old fashoined, high necked ivory gown worked heavily in lace and pearls, a full matching lace veil, with a headband of pearls holding it in place. Lindsey trailed behind, in a matching gown in light blue, minus the veil and train. The wedding dress was every bit of ten feet long, held off the carpet by her twin sisters. Their dresses, while not as fancy, matched perfectly. 383 The dress, of course, had belonged to Miss Agnes. They had been sitting in front of the fire, gazing up at her, talking about the wedding. Jen sighed. "I love my mother. And I love you too, but I think of you more as Dean's mom, the one he should have had growing up. I have to tell you, I'm a little intimidated. Living up to your legacy will be hard. Dean showed us your wedding album, and told me he wanted me in a dress as close to yours as I could come, regardless of the cost. I've showed it to a few seamstresses, and they've all refused, saying they didn't have the skill to do it justice. He's having a hard time finding a suit like your husband wore. I'm thinking we may have to go more modern. It will break his heart, but we have to face facts." 384 Both girls screamed "MOM!' when two hands grabbed both by the back of the neck, pulling them up, and marching them to the door, which swung open as they approached. At one time the house had sat in the middle of a working farm, but over the years after Miss Agnes passed the heirs had sold off bits and pieces until there was only fifteen acres left. At the back of that sat the tackroom. Orignally used as a place to store all the tack necessary for a working farm, they had developed it over the years, until it contained a small apartment for the tack hand, so he could constantly be on call when something was needed or a piece was broken and needed repair. They had explored around it, but the few windows were so encrusted by dirt they couldn't see anything inside. There used to be a big barn beside of it, but it was destroyed by fire in the forties, and they never rebuilt. I'm guessing from what I saw later the family had started using it for storage in the late fifties or early sixties. 385 Agnes marched the girls to the door and a key fell out of the rafters. Linds picked it up and it fit the lock, but it refused to turn. They were about to give up when the key turned on it's own, and the lock popped open. The hinges screamed as they opened the door, it had probably been forty or fifty years since it had to function, and the hinges didn't like it. 386 They peeked in, surprised to see it was packed to the rafters with old boxes and trunks. One large trunk stood apart, and it moved slightly. The girls took that as their cue, and struggled to open it. There were books in the top, family albums mostly. The girls giggled at the pictures of Miss Agnes over the years, going from a stunning bride to a middle aged woman who could still rock a one piece, to the regal dowager she was at the end. They found pictures of her boys, and we found out her life wasn't always sunshine and roses. She lost two sons in the second world war, one a Marine in the Pacific. He was awarded three silvers stars and two purple hearts before a sniper got him on Okinawa. Her other son was a Ranger, surviving the beaches of Normandy before being killed at the Battle of the Bulge. He got the distinguished service cross for his actions leading to his death, saving eighteen of his men and half of a village. Another son went missing in Korea, and was never heard from again. 387 The other son was killed in a car accident in the late fifties, and left no heirs. Her youngest son married, and broke her heart by moving to California and having a single child. That child, in keeping with the tradition, sired only one son, the man I bought the house from. Her husband stayed by her side until he died in 1969, and she followed nine weeks later. 388 I think she poured so much of her heart and soul into making our house the perfect home she couldn't rest. As tenant after tenant passed through, each making the house a little less, her attachment got stronger. At least the house was back to it's glory now, and Miss Agnes could rest in peace. The thought disturbed me, because we had all become reliant on her. It would be like a flesh and blood mother died if she left us now. 389 They felt her sadness as they looked at the photos, and decided to bring them to the house, where they belonged. Lifting the dividing lid so they could see the bottom, they almost fainted. There, perfectly preserved, was her wedding dress, as well as the blue bridesmaid dress her sister wore. The veil, even the shoes, were perfectly preserved. Jen reached out to caress the lace, before pulling her hand back. "I can't, Mom. You were a much bigger woman, and it would have to be altered significantly if I were to wear it. I don't want to ruin it." 390 Words appeared in the dust on the floor, the first time she had ever communicated with any of us that way. "Take it. Yours. Lindsey gets blue. Give to sister when her turn. Give to daughters. Please." 391 Apparently it took a lot out of her to do this, judging from the cropped sentences. Lindsey and Jen almost made mud in the building when their tears hit the floor. They repacked everything carefully, and watched in wonder as the key turned the lock again. The key dropped in front of them. Jen picked it up, noting how smooth it felt. Even the lock looked new. 392 I didn't get to sit down when I got home. The girls had me in our truck, heading for the shed, where we pulled the chest gently out the door and on to the bed. The girls were quivering, and I knew no one was having dinner until the contents were explored. I called for pizza, to be delivered in one hour, hoping that would be enough time. 393 Miss Agnes had been a large woman. She once mentioned in a letter it was a good thing her husband was six three, otherwise she would have been the taller of the two. They reverently took the dress out, and after admiring it, Jen tried it on. She looked like a little girl playing dress up in her mothers' clothes, and in a way, she was. 394 The blue dress was almost an exact copy sans train and veil. Linds didn't even try it on, even though it was smaller. Apparently big women ran in their family. It took them hours of research to find a woman who specialized in restoring and altering vintage clothing, and she was horribly expensive. The end results were worth every penny and more. Jen seemed to glow as she walked down the aisle, looking for all the world like she was not even touching the ground. Then again, Mom might have been helping her along. 395 Underneath the gowns was the formal suit her husband had worn. The girls insisted, and Mom nudged me along, until I finally put it on. It fit like a glove except for the pants being an inch too long. I ended up going to see the seamstress, and getting lessons on how to master the studs, and tie the bow tie. There was a gold watch and chain under the suit, and it rose up to meet my hand as I was placing it back into the trunk. I touched it, and it popped open. There was a photo of Miss Agnes from the late thirties, smiling, and the inscription read "From your loving Mother." My eyes blurred for a moment, probably from all the dust in the trunk, and I whispered, "Thanks, Mom." 396 We had a string quartet and a pianist, and Caruso sang an Italian love song just before she made her entrance, a beautiful song with haunting lyrics, even if you couldn't understand the words. As the last notes lingered the string quartet started playing the Wedding march. Shaggy was my best man, we had become close even though he was almost twice my age. Jen's brothers were the groomsmen, and her sisters were her bridesmaids, with Lindsey as Maid of Honor. Preacher did the service justice, tears in his eyes most of the time. He ended with the words "I now pronounce you man and wife, Jen and Dean, the Madonna and her Warrior. May your union be long, fruitful, and full of love. You may kiss the bride, again." 397 It sounded good to me, so I did. 398 I know some of the guests couldn't help but look at the portrait that hung in the arch of the bower, but we didn't bother to explain. Miss Agnes looked down over the crowd as we started our life together. At one time, I was almost sure there were tears on her cheek. Must have been the angle of the sun. 399 The reception was lively but largely alcohol free, in consideration for some of our guests. A good time was still had, as the four piece band set up and started playing, joined at times by Blind Melon, Harp and Sister Mary. The band was astounded that she knew the lyrics to so many songs, and could sing them with gusto. I danced with Pocahontas, Sister Mary, Jen's sisters and her Mother. I even got Grams out for a sedate waltz, and she cried the whole time. She told me she cried in happiness for us, and in gratitude for us saving her from the nursing home. I kissed her cheek, telling her I wanted her around for a long, long time. Maybe she could even babysit for us once in a while. 400 Jen danced with everyone from Ninth Street, saving Shaggy until last, and she snuggled in, kissing his cheek, thanking him for coming into our lives. Then she surprised him by giving him what she called a wedding gift to him. "I know you don't like where you live, Shaggy, too many of your old influences around for you to be completely comfortable. Ever considered moving to suburbia? I happen to know where a very nice two bedroom apartment is, just sitting empty. And I'm pretty sure you won't be able to beat the rent, unless you find someone who wants to pay you to live with them. Think about it." 401 She giggled. "It's pretty quiet, most of the time, if you ignore the odd scream and moans once in a while." 402 Three weeks later his old pickup was parked in the drive. 403 Chapter 16 With the permission of the FBI and with cooperation of the corresponding authorities in almost all the countries this investigation took us, we had chronicled the unfolding of the corruption scandal, from the moment Jasmine came forward through the trials of the major players. We didn't divulge facts that would have compromised the good guys or the informants they turned, but it was still pretty stark, a really ugly look at people at their worst, casually discussing the deaths they had caused, the executions they had performed personally, the blackmailing and breaking of good families they held under their thumb. They discussed their utter contempt for the authorities in every country they operated in, and laughed at how many key players they 'owned' in America. 405 We had weeks of footage, and we huddled around the video players editing for months, trying to set the right tone and pace for the best dramatic impression. Finally, we had it down to eight hours that the countries involved would sign off on, and we shopped it, in four two hour segments. The bidding war was horrific, companies were offering us all kinds of things past money. I physically threw two cable company representatives out of my house after they offered Jen and Linds drugs, sex, and under the table money if they would get me to give them the documentary. They didn't know it, but the whole thing was taped, and we put it at the end of the very last segment. The companies, of course, denied all knowledge of their actions, and both executives and four assistants were fired. We thought about doing a documentary on the lengths news outlets would go to get a story, but didn't. Jen said it best. "Give me an old fashioned serial killer who does his victims in in a horrible manner over these guys anytime. I'd feel a lot cleaner at the end of the day." 406 As Jen had told her mother, financially, we were comfortable. The returns from both documentaries netted us payments in the high six figures, and with residuals the money kept coming in. Jasmine had given the girls a parting gift for taking her in and hiding her while the scandal played out, half a million apiece in a portfolio managed by one of the best investors in the business. He was doing a really good job, so Linds gave him another quarter mil, and we gave him twice that. We were rapidly becoming his favorite clients. 407 Shaggy took his cut and bought a nice house a couple of blocks away, and moved his girlfriend, a recovering heroin addict, in. She was almost twenty years younger, and with his help, she got her daughter back from social services nine months later. She calls him "Pops", which makes him smile every time. The girl is a little jock, and he drags us to all her soccer and volleyball games, where we scream our heads off and embarrass her no end. She talked Shaggy into getting her golf lessons, and he decided to see what the fuss was about. The first time he sank a birdie, he was hooked for life. Sandy talked her mother into trying, and she hooked Linds, until soon we all had the bug, and played so much we all joined a small country club. 408 Shaggy and Sandy got so good they won the Father Daughter Tournament five years running, until Sandy aged out and didn't qualify any longer. She compensated by entering them into the Mixed Doubles Tournament, where they ruled for three years, until she went to college. We all sat around his big screen and watched his daughter win a televised tournament designed to show the world the future stars of the LPGA. Gwen, his wife, had surprised everyone when she got a cold and took an herbal tonic that killed her birth control pills. She found out she was pregnant, and was scared to death to tell Shaggy. He cried when she told him, then picked her up and twirled her around, whooping the whole time. Seven and a half months later their daughter, Grace, was born, coming into the world at eight and a half pounds and giving a lustful cry. She's still the loudest child I've ever seen. 409 Linds took a lot of her money and bought the house next door to us when it came up for sale, getting a good price since she could pay cash. The agent never even got a chance to put the sign up. 410 She didn't live in it, though, and said she wouldn't until she found someone special enough to share it with, or we finally grew tired of her and threw her out. Like that was ever going to happen. She went away with some old college friends for a week long reunion, but was back in four days. Jen moped around until she returned, then they hugged and cried like they hadn't seen each other in years. When they finally got done with each other Lindsey latched down on me. 411 "How about you, big boy? Miss your little sister?" 412 I pretended surprise. "You were gone? For how long? Doggone it Jen, why don't you tell me these things?" 413 Linds slapped me, then squealed as I picked her up, swinging her around while she screamed in laughter. I put her down, kissed her cheek, and gave her a firm swat on her ass. "Welcome home, baby." 414 We held a family meeting, Linds, Shaggy, Gwen, and us, to decide our future. We were all wanting to do documentaries full time, but it meant quitting all our jobs. Gwen, pre-drugs, had been an accountant, so we had added her to the family business in that capacity, although she did more, lugging equipment around when we were in the field, and became pretty good at running the camera. Shaggy and Gwen were the least financially secure, so they had the most to lose. We had money, but these things can take a life of their own, and be expensive to make. We talked it to death, agreed to think about it until the weekend. 415 Lindsey, Jen and I talked further about it. "I really want to do it, but I need to make sure my family is provided for," I told them, as I rubbed Jen's tummy. Grace arriving had triggered the nesting instinct in Jen, and we agreed to throw her birth control pills away. Four months later she tested positive on the home kit, and had it confirmed by her doctor the next day. "This is a big step. If we quit we have no insurance. Anything could happen." 416 Miss Agnes was apparently excited about the baby, and we could hear faint humming through the vents pretty often. I know Jen talked to her quite a bit, wondering if she would be a good mother. The thought popped into our heads at the same time. We needed to go to the basement. We rarely went down there, because there was no need. It was clean, and dry, and Jen had plans to turn the space into a playroom a few years down the road. 417 We were actually surprised when we explored it that there was nothing down there, especially after the treasure trove we found in the garage and tack room. We flipped the lights on, wondering why we were here, when a crack appeared on the plaster, getting bigger as we watched. I brushed away a few of the bigger pieces and there it was. 418 "Get some tools girls, something we can chip this away with. I think something important is behind this wall. And bring a couple of big trash cans, we're going to need them." They scurried away quickly, curious beyond words. I kept pulling pieces off and putting them into a wooden box I had found. I brushed some dust away, and there it was. Part of the face of a big safe. I wondered how we were going to get in, until numbers appeared in the dust. 38R 26L 42R. I wondered what the meaning was for the numbers when it hit me. "Mom, are these your measurements?" All I got in response was a slight ruffling of my hair and a giggle. 419 The girls came back with a few tools and garbage cans, We worked quietly for a few minutes, when we heard footsteps. They had called Shaggy and Gwen, thinking we may need the help. It took us an hour until we had it completely exposed. It wasn't a bank vault, but it was damn close. I wiped the face down with a damp cloth while they speculated on how we were going to open it. I set the dial to zero, then twirled it to the correct numbers. We all heard the click. 420 Gwen had grabbed a small camera, and was filming the whole thing. The door made no noise as it swung open, which I found odd because it had to have been at least sixty years since it had been opened. The safe was six feet tall, eight feet deep, and eight feet wide and packed to the gills. We took a box out and opened it. It held stock certificates, for Coca-Cola, General Motors, and others, the dates of issue going all the way back to the thirties. It took a lot of research to sort them out. Some were defunct. Some had been absorbed by other companies. Some were still in business but generated only slight profits over the years. There were certificates of deposit from all three of the banks in the area, the keys to deposit boxes for the same three banks, and three bags of loose diamonds, many of them uncut. There were bags of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, several sculptures and bronzes that Miss Agnes had acquired when they did the Grand Tour in the early twenties, along with four carefully wrapped paintings. Besides the loose stones there were necklaces, rings, and broaches in quantity. Seems Mom loved her bling. Something in the back caught my eye, and I pulled it forward. A gun case that opened easily. No expert, I knew a lot of the pistols had to be antique, assorted revolvers, something I found later was called a Harmonica Pistol, her husband's orginal 1911 Colt .45 automatic, two double barreled shotguns, with ornate engraving, inlayed with gold and silver. They looked like they had never been fired. While Shaggy and I were admiring the weapons, Lindsey found a ledger book that listed all the contents and their estimated worth in 1961. We shut the safe, making sure it was locked, and trooped back upstairs making coffee and sitting at the kitchen table. Jen had her laptop out, and they were checking current values of some of the things in the ledger. Jen's hands were shaking so badly she had to turn the keyboard over to Lindsey. 421 "There are tens of millions dollars worth of stuff down there honey. What are we going to do? Is it ours?" 422 "It is. I checked with the lawyer who handled the purchase of the house and the realtor when we found the stuff in the garage, and it is plainly in the sales paper that I bought it as is, including all the contents of the house and grounds. Looks like we can all quit our jobs now, and not worry." 423 I looked at Shaggy and Gwen. "That includes you guys. We're in business together and that means you get ten per cent." The girls grinned, Shaggy looked stunned, and Gwen fainted. 424 Chapter 17 Of course, we all vowed to keep silent. For one thing we didn't want the publicity, for another, we didn't want every whack job and druggie in the area trying to rob us. We had put a little pistol range on the back of the property, and I had taken a backhoe and built up a four foot thick berm eight feet high, reinforced with thick timbers. It faced a little hill, in case we were way off in our aim, and the land behind it was empty farmland. Eighty four acres, and we were seriously thinking about trying to buy it, for privacy more than anything else. The thought of a new housing development going up behind us didn't sit well with any of us. 426 I had my Smith .40, my 'go to' weapon of choice, and an old colt Python .357 revolver I had picked up years ago. The girls, including Gwen, had fired them, and didn't care for either. Jen had her little Remington .380, and she was notoriously accurate up to twenty yards, every shot center body mass. Lindsey had been afraid of guns, but we brought her along, until she was confident to find her own weapon. I swear those girls shopped for pistols like they did dresses, wanting to 'try them on' before deciding. We joined a gun range that also had a shop, and they could check out a rental, run a box of ammo through it, then return it. She still hadn't found anything she liked, when I thought about the vault. All the weapons were old, some over a hundred years, but all were mechanically sound and could fire modern ammunition. 427 I went down to the basement one evening and stood, thinking, before talking to Mom. "Would you mind terribly if I let Lindsey fire one of your weapons? I know they're yours, because a man wouldn't own a pistol that ornate except as a collector's item, and besides, your initials are woven into the red rose on the ivory handles. It might be just what she needs, and if she likes them we can get a modern version and put yours back in the vault." 428 For an answer the vault(we had started calling it that because frankly, it was too big to be considered a safe)swung open, a beam of light higlighting a case we had opened just once. I took them out reverently, almost unwilling to touch them. I took the revolver out first, a Colt Lightning. It was nickel, with a red rose scrimshawed into the ivory handles, A J M cleverly worked in, almost unable to be detected. In .32 caliber, it had a two inch barrel and a five round cylinder. Most people deride the caliber, but it was still a pretty efficient weapon at close quarters. The other pistol was a .380 automatic, with the same design in the handle. Both were heavily engraved. They looked like works of art, not the deadly weapons they were. "Jen" flashed in my mind when I held the automatic, 'Lindsey' when I held the revolver. 429 Both were made in 1916, just before her husband went off to war. I think he gave them to her for safety, she could easily carry either one in her purse or concealed in the folds of her dress. We had them estimated for insurance purposes later, and as a set, in the custom built case, with the matching .45 automatic(his weapon, I suspect), the value was almost thirty thousand. 430 The next Saturday I took them to the gun range, and had them checked by a professional before I would allow the girls to fire either. I insisted we do it in the managers' office, after his promise of confidentiality. He actually went a little pale, not saying a word until he checked his computer. "Do you know what these are? The former owner must have known someone in the Colt system. There are a lot of these out there, but only five matching sets like this were ever made. One was presented to the Queen of England in 1910, the other four went to private individuals. The one belonging to the Queen is in a museum in London, another is owned by the Roosevelt family, the other three changed hands until they disappeared. Now only two are unaccounted for. Collectors suspect the sets were broken up in wills, and will never see the light of day again. If it still had the 1911 .45, it would be worth even more." I grinned, thinking about the weapon, safely tucked away in the vault. 431 I never volunteered how I had acquired them, and he was smart enough not to ask. He declared them in excellent condition, estimating they had been fired very little. He assured me they could handle modern ammunition, but suggested I buy a special brand, manufactured for vintage and antique weapons, closely matching orginal specifications for the weapon. He had two boxes of the .32 in stock, and four of the .380. I bought all he had, and put in an order for three more boxes each. 432 I wouldn't let them be fired in public, not wanting to give explanations of where they came from. I took the girls to the home range, and showed them the weapons. "Mom and I had a talk. Linds, Mom thought you might be comfortable with the revolver, and Jen, since you are already familiar with a .380, she wanted you to have this." After they oohed and ahhed over them, they loaded them, and test fired a few rounds, from the standard distances for pistols, nine, fifteen, and twenty-five yards. Linds hit center mass every time, the shots closely grouped just to the left of center. Jen did the same, except two rounds each were head shots. Showoff. 433 To legally carry them, I had them registered, telling the police I had inherited them from a time when registration wasn't necessary. They did the standard checks, and they didn't come back stolen, so it was just a matter of filling out the forms. The girls both bought special handbags that allowed them to have easy access to their weapons. They could even fire them without taking them out, if it was necesary. Jen still carried her old .380, in a specially designed pocket holster. It would be very bad for someone if the girls were ever placed in a situation requiring they use them. 434 The existence of the vault started to worry all of us, and we agreed to consider moving the valuables to a more secure location. If people found out, we would be an instant target, and not just from the amateurs. We voted, and everyone but Gwen thought it was a good idea. She said the less people knew of our business, the better off we are. "I agree, Gwen. That makes it even more important we move them. We will all be safer for it." 435 Linds came up with the idea of doing a documentary on the vault, Miss Agnes, and the whole Merchant family. We had already talked to the local history museum, letting them get a look at some of the things we'd found in the tack shed, and now there was a whole section of the museum dedicated to the Merchant family and their impact on local history. The exhibit showed photos of the family through time. The reports of their sons dying in action, and the other disappearing, took up one section alone. There was a wedding picture of Miss Agnes, her sister, and her husband in their gowns and suit, sitting side by side of a picture of Jen, me, and Lindsey in the same clothes. There were also period toys we'd found in one of the trunks, as well as children's clothing of the times. 436 We didn't know it, but the family sponsored the local baseball team, footing the bill for their uniforms, equipment, and transportation. In those days, every town had at least one team, roughly similar to a single A team of the modern era. Games were huge draws on Saturday afternoons, people wearing their summer best as they rooted for the home team. Mr. Merchant, it seems, was a very good pitcher, but he only pitched as a reliever, leaving the glory to the ones who deserved it. There was even a photo we found of all of them, down to the last son, wearing team jerseys. Several trophies, old gloves, and autographed balls were in a case under the picture. 437 When we privately viewed it, as guests of the museum, we were really impressed. Things were moving along until we got to the baseball collection, Jen and Linds just stopped, gaping at a photo of Mr. Merchant, in his uniform and cap, before turning their eyes to me. "What?" 438 "You look just like him, right down to the ball cap. Same eyes, chin, cheekbones. Even your ears are shaped the same!" 439 I looked more closely, and could actually see she was right. That might explain why Mom liked me so much. "Well, what about that? Maybe I'm his illegitimate great grandson, what do you think?" 440 The assistant curator giving us the tour grinned. "You mean you're not a descendent? Fooled me, I was sure I was dealing with the last of the Merchant family. Strange world, huh?" 441 Along with the display there was a long article on how they got their wealth. Miss Agnes was the eldest daughter of a wealthy landowner, he had seven farms, a retail store catering to farm supplies, and a hotel, all doing a prosperous business. Her future husband Jim came from a long line of lawyers and engineers. His father was a judge, rising to the state Supreme Court, where he served ten years before retiring. Jim chose the engineering part of his family, following his uncle, joining his business as soon as he left college. Between them, they managed to invent and hold patents on six machines, expanding their workshop into a pretty impressive manufacturing plant. The family held pretty liberal views about workers, and conservative views on family. No one in the plant, including the managers, could work over ten hours a day, and every other Saturday, if it was necessary. They paid a substatial wage, far and above what others did, and as result, they got the best of the best. Several of their managers and workers saved enough to open their own businesses, not as competitors, but as suppliers. Instead of building mill villages, they offered their workers good rates on loans, and many took advantage, achieving something they thought they would never see, home ownership. 442 Miss Agnes and Jim met when his company sold some machinery to her father, and he came along to make sure they met specifications. He was a likeable fellow, open, honest (sometimes too honest, Miss Agnes said once in a letter), a man that stood on his convictions and by his word. Soon, he was taking dinner most evenings with the Monroe family, finishing the night by sitting in the porch swing with Agnes and her little sister, watching the stars and fireflies. Jim played guitar, Agnes played piano, her little sister the violin, so they gave impromtu concerts to the rest of the family and whatever neighbors happened by. 443 When the machines were in place, Jim asked Mr. Monroe if he would give him permission to court his daughter, and the man laughed. "Young man, whether you know it or not, by this time next year we'll be talking about the wedding. Agnes already has her dress picked out." They were engaged in nine months, and married six months later. It was pretty much a whirlwind courtship by the standards of the day. 444 When the first world war started, before Americans got involved, the Merchants and the Monroes held a business discussion, led by the elder Monroe. "War is raging in Europe right now, and whether we like it or not, eventually America will be forced to choose a side. In the meantime, commerce will be spotty at best in Europe, foodstuffs like grain, corn, and potatoes will be in short supply. People will starve, economies will crumble. 445 I propose a joint venture. My family will supply the skill and knowledge, and forty per cent of the money, if your family supplies the other sixty per cent. We'll split any profits 50/50. We need to buy or lease as much farmland as we can get, produce as much food as we can, for export. I also suggest that you look at upping production of your machinery, every factory over there that can be will be converted to help the war effort. They'll need those machines when this is over, and it will take them a long time to rebuild." 446 They took his suggestion, and while many tried to get outrageous prices, they kept their prices as fair as they could. Their biggest customer ended up being the U.S. government, who came to them with a suggestion. They wanted them to also grow cotton, for uniforms, underwear, and a thousand other uses. We found a certificate issued to them, Merchant Monroe Inc., for their contribution to the war effort. 447 Jim had been educated in military schools, and when the U.S. entered the war he volunteered. He was given the rank captian, went through refresher training, and spent two years overseas, leading a troop in France. His group were scouts, and were spared most of the misery that came with trench warfare. His was a much more hazardous assignment, and over half his men died in battle or were captured. Jim was captured once, and spent three weeks as a prisoner, before he escaped with six men and made his way back, gathering information as he went. When it was over, the French gave him the third highest medal they could bestow on a foreigner, and the U.S. loaded his chest down even more. 448 He didn't get to return for almost another year, detained to help the British and the French with rebuilding their factories and resuming production of much needed goods. Both countries gave him certificates of merit for his work. Miss Agnes, after waiting for over two years, took matters in her own hands and went to England, surprising her husband. In her diary, she described the next three days as "exhilirating, exhausting, and satisfying, as both of us tried to make up our husbandly and wifely duties that we had missed during this time." Miss Agnes seemed to really, really like making love to her husband. 449 The display in place, we recruited a top property lawyer, the realtor that sold me the house, a security expert, our banker, and the curator of the museum to bear witness as we emptied the vault. The cameras were set up, and we had a Brinks truck waiting outside, to take things to a secured facility. They had to make five trips, our security expert along on every one. The place was insured, bonded, and had never been robbed, though there had been eleven attempts. 450 Before we started, we removed a few things we didn't want anyone to see, keepsakes and valuables we didn't want the public to know about. Gwen was running one of the cameras, and I noticed how badly she was shaking. When I asked her about is, she said she didn't sleep much last night thinking about today. It made sense, the girls and I had a general idea what the vault contained thanks to the ledger, but we had actually seen little of it. We didn't sleep much last night either. We filmed the faces of the witnesses as the vault was opened. I thought the curator might faint, and the rest were stunned into silence. 451 It took eight hours to remove everything. I think everyone was numb by the time it was over. The banker kept a running tally, consulting his laptop every once in a while to determine estimated value, getting progressively paler as we went. He sighed when the last item was removed. "Just an estimate, and a very conservative one at that, but if you took the values I calculated, it comes to...," he looked at his notes, to make sure he was correct, "just over sixty-three million. It will probably be at least twenty percent more, if you factor in the historical value of some of the pieces, and I consult with experts in various fields. Not counting, of course, what's in the safety deposit boxes." 452 I thought this might be a grey area, but the property lawyer assured me that even though they weren't on the grounds, the keys were, and if you owned the keys, you owned the deposit boxes. We decided to save those for another day. Carefully placing the items we wanted to keep back into the vault, we went upstairs, made coffee, and discussed what to do next. We turned to our security expert. 453 Jim grinned, but it was a grim one. He had retired from the FBI after getting his time in, and moved here. Christy still had eighteen months to go, and then she would be joining him. At his retirement party, Jim had dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him, diamond in hand. She very unprofessionally screamed and started crying, while his friends grinned and congratulated them. Seems their relationship was pretty common knowledge, after all, they were FBI, but no one said anything, and as long as they were professional, the managers let it go. 454 "You're not going to want to hear this, but you should get an alarm system, and a security fence. Once word gets out, no one is going to believe everything is in a vault somewhere else. Everybody from druggies to pros will want to give it a shot, so you better be ready. Security guards may come into play, if you want to continue to live here. Keep your weapons handy at all times while you're home, and stash a few in strategic locations, just in case." 455 We knew we were going to have to do something along those lines, we just didn't want to hear it. In the end, we put up a six foot wrought iron fence, the top third electrified, with a gate that wouldn't open until you punched in the right code, and the code changed often. Jim had an extra feature added, if you punched in zero at the end of the sequence, it let those inside the house know you were compromised. We had the fence extended to include Lindsey's house. She still hadn't found her soul mate, so she was still with us. 456 Jen and I had long ago left the station, even before Mom showed us the vault, despite their pleas to stay. The truth was we made more off the first documentary than we could in five years with the station. The corruption documentary earned us more than we would have made in twenty years. Now, with our new found wealth, we didn't have to work at all unless we chose so. We talked it over, and decided to keep doing documentaries, able now to really pick and choose what we felt worthwhile. Shaggy was still helping the homeless and addicted, and we helped, both with time and money. 457 However, there's a pit in every olive jar, as my old drill sargeant was fond of saying. Ours turned out to be Gwen. She was fine until the big money started rolling in, and then she gradually eased back into her old lifestyle. While we were distributing blankets and food, she was trying to score. She managed to hide it for the first two months, before she disappeared for three days. Shaggy and her oldest daughter were frantic, their young one not quite old enough to unsderstand the situation. Jim called in the calvary, and we found her in a shooting gallery, passed out, with most of her clothes missing. Shaggy didn't say a word, bundling her into a blanket before Sandy could see her, hustling her straight to the hospital. 458 They pumped her stomach, afraid of what she might have swallowed, and checked her blood almost hourly, finally giving her two pints to help flush her system. It took her two days to wake up, and she was a wreck when she did. She begged Shaggy not to leave her. As soon as she was strong enough, he took her home, put her on the couch and fluffed the pillows. 459 "Sandy is going to be home from school soon. Grace is with Jen and Lindsey. You and I are going to talk. Rather, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. I know what a struggle it is to stay clean. Even after all these years, the smell of bourbon has me salivating. But then I remember my choices, what I've gained, what I could lose, and I walk away. We have a good life here honey. Nice house, good living, great kids, killer jobs. We're living the American dream, baby, after years of horror. I can't go back. I refuse to go back, if nothing else, then for my daughters. 460 You have a choice right now. If you make the right one I, WE will be behind you a hundred per cent, but if you make the wrong one, again, then we're over. Remember, I adopted Sandy. She now carries my name besides my heart, and I won't let you hurt either one by watching you slide down in to the pit you rose out of once. If you slip again, and force me to go for divorce, no judge alive would give you custody. 461 Think about it, are you willing to give up everything?" 462 Gwen wailed and promised to be good, shaking the whole time from withdrawals. 463 "All right then. Tomorrow, you go to rehab, and I don't mean the 28 day program, I mean real rehab, ninety days in a top facility. If you do well, then after a month we can see you. Do bad, and your stay gets longer, until they deem you unsavable. If that happens, you're on your own." 464 She went. Gwen did well, staying on point, following the program, saying and doing all the right things. The first time her family got to visit her, she cried the whole time, hugging her daughters and apologizing to Shaggy. He finally grew a little irritated. "Don't promise, Gwen. Do. Make me proud to be married to you again. This is your only chance, your one shot at redemption. Screw this up and it might be a long time before you get to see your babies." 465 If he was trying to scare her straight, it worked. For six months she was right by his side, not complaining once about the monthly drug tests he made her take, promising if she stayed clean for a year he would stop. We think she started resenting them there towards the end, but she took them. 466 Then, on the ninth month, she didn't show for her test, calling the lab and telling them she had a family emergency and would need to reschedule. It was two weeks before they could fit her in, and she said it would be fine. When the report didn't show up in the mail, Shaggy asked about it. "The lab had to reschedule, honey. I go in ten days, but if you want, we can go down to the hospital and get it done there." 467 He loved her, and believed her, so they waited. The weekend before she was to go, Shaggy came home to find her gone, along with everything of value that she was able to get into her car. When he checked, the bank accounts had been emptied. As luck would have it, most of their money was tied up in investments and couldn't be accessed quickly, so he was able to protect them. We didn't hear a thing for four months, until the money started to run out, and then we traced her through five pawnshops in three surrounding towns before the trail went cold. The security cameras at the last showed a rough picture. She looked like she had lost at least twenty pounds, her hair a stringy mess, the needle tracks plain on her arms. Shaggy watched, and tears rolled down his cheeks. Jim offered to get a team looking for her. 468 "She's past saving. It wouldn't matter if she came back and went through rehab again, she would just slide right back. I need to go home to my children, prepare them for what's to come, and see a lawyer, to make sure I retain custody." 469 After some pretty hard nagging from the girls, including Christy, who was home on vacation, he moved into the house with us, just to make everyone feel a little more secure. A few months later, the police showed up, asking about her. It seemed the people she had hooked up with decided to start a career in crime. They were on video robbing two corner stores, her carrying a shotgun they suspect she got from a recent home invasion. "This is her last known address. Have you seen or talked to her lately?" 470 Shaggy looked at the evidence, surprised he could still cry over her. When he composed himself, he answered all their questions. First, he gave them a card. "That's my lawyer. I'm suing for divorce on grounds of abandonment, working to get sole custody of my girls, making sure they are safe. I have not talked to my wife in five months, or seen her in six. If she does make contact, you guys will get the call. I'm done with her, but for the sake of our children I'll pray for her." 471 The cops were good guys, and knew us from Ninth Street. We had also sponsored a Police League volleyball team, and a softball team, always willing to give a little more when the cause was there. They apologized for coming, and the female hugged him, telling him he would get through this. She also gave him her card, telling her if he needed help, not to hesitate to call anyone on the force, someone would come. Jim and Christy walked them out. 472 They waited until a few hours later, and the detective, our volleyball coach, called, wanting me to meet them on the range. "We think it's going to end badly. The violence is escalating. They pistol whipped a clerk at the last robbery, even though he cooperated, while Gwen held the shotgun on the three customers who had been in the store. They're on film laughing like hyenas while they nearly beat the guy to death. It's just a matter of time, depending on how little or how much drugs they have in them, to cross the line and kill somebody, or run into somebody who decides to shoot it out with them." 473 I pondered what to do with the information. Three days later we woke to the sounds of sirens. A neighbor three blocks over woke to intruders. They beat him badly, threatened to rape his wife and eleven year old daughter unless he gave them everything. They seemed to know what was valuable, and even knew where the safe was. When they thought they had everything, they tied them up, smashed their phones, and left. 474 Five nights later another neighbor experienced a home invasion, and again, the thieves were very well informed as to what they had of value. Two weeks later a house three doors down was invaded, and it was set afire when they left, because the thieves were angry over the amount of loot. The residents just barely got out alive. We sat over breakfast and thought about the rash of crime in our area, until Lindsey went pale. 475 "Oh My Gosh! It just hit me, we've been to every one of these houses as guests, including Shaggy. AND GWEN!" We called the police immediately, and when they came out we explained our fears. One sighed. "That sounds about right. Every house that was robbed was done by someone with a rough reckoning of their wealth. We've stepped up patrols in the area. Keep your doors locked, you guys would be the ultimate prize." Three hours later Gwen called Shaggy, giving him an almost incoherent diatribe about taking the girls, demanding he bring them to her. He agreed immediately, asking where she wanted to meet. 476 He could hear a struggle, a few screams, and a man's voice came on the phone. "Ignore the bitch. I do. We'll be seeing you soon, asshole." The line went dead. Shaggy called the police immediately, and they came over to get the recording he had managed to get of about two thirds of the conversation. "They're losing control. I know you have weapons, but you might want to get professional help, and just to be safe, never let the children out of sight." 477 Jim sighed when they left. "They're right, Shaggy. I'll be taking the girls to school and collecting them from now on. Be sure you tell the school that no one is to get them except for me or you, and call the police immediately if someone tries." 478 He turned to me. "Again, they were right. I'm going to hire enough guards to keep this area safe around the clock, until they're caught or..." He started to say dead, but saw Grace peeking over the stair railing. He nodded and Shaggy got up immediately, bringing her into the living room and cuddling her. 479 Both girls were traumatized by recent events, but the girls mothered them relentlessly, and they gradually came to accept the living arrangements. When Grace needed something, two Moms showed up, three if Christy was around. She would sigh as she held Grace, looking sad. She told us later she regretted not leaving the Bureau early enough to have kids. She and Jim were seriously talking about foster kids or adotion about a year after she retired, to give her time to acclimate to the real world. 480 We fixed up the old tack shop apartment, and Jim gave one guard his spare bedroom, so we had on site round the clock protection. When we left, even if it was just to the grocery store, two guys in an SUV followed us. JIm was starting to prosper, and we knew as soon as Christy retired they would find a nice house. He was doing a lot of business with the neighbors, car and foot patrols at night, just cars in the daylight. They identified themselves to the heavy police presence, so everyone knew who was supposed to be in the area. 481 Our neighbors were well to do, so they could afford it. Never having much to do with the police, several of the older ones, especially the widows and empty nesters, started insisting they have breakfast with them, so they could "inspect the house". This led to snacks, and coffepots left outside on decks and porches, and always ready for both the police and security people. They joked with each other they hoped the bad guys never got caught, because this was the best job they'd ever had. 482 They earned their money one night when one of the security patrols noticed a suspicious vehicle, reported it, and followed from a distance, the police hovering just out of sight. They stopped in front of a house at the end of a street, secluded, no close neighbors, a perfect target. Six people got out, pulling on gloves and masks. They were reaching inside the van when the floodlights hit them, and a voice demanding they drop their weapons and lie on the ground. 483 There was a moment of hesitation, then they heard a man clearly. "Fuck this! I ain't going back to prison." 484 To the shock of the authorities, two men pulled out military style rifles and started firing. The weapons were fully automatic, and they sprayed a lot of bullets very fast. Two of the three police cruisers were totaled instantly. Then two more rifles opened up, backed by shotguns. Outgunned, all they could do was call for backup and try to keep them contained. 485 Two of the security guards, the ones on foot patrol, had arrived at the back of the house and peeked around, assessing the situation, talking to the police the entire time. One of the intruders, looking for an escape route, got a little too close, and they dragged him back into the bushes, knocking him out with their fists and pistols. Another saw it and opened fire, spraying his companion and killing him instantly while the guards scrambled away to each side. They both fired, watching as the man grunted and sagged back, before returning fire. They realized he was wearing a bulletproof vest. They were both on the ground now to limit target options, and one screamed to the other to aim for the legs. Both emptied a fourteen round magazine each, hitting the robber five times, once in the knee, shattering the knee cap. 486 Before they could do anything about the fallen man the van roared around the house, running over him as it headed across the back yard, through the fence that divided lots, and on to the next street. Caught by surprise, the police scrambled to follow, but the van had dropped out of sight, into a district of empty warehouses, pulling into one out of sight from the street. 487 Chapter 18 It was a minor miracle, but the robber who had been shot and run over lived. He lost a leg, a finger, and a testicle, but he was alive. Knowing he would most likely face life in prison, as soon as he was able he got a lawyer and offered to sell his compatriots out, for immunity. That proposal was rejected out of hand, and they bargained back and forth until they reached an agreement. Looking at life, the prosecution offered him a deal. Tell everything and he would get ten to twenty-five years, and be eligible for parole in nine years. He was thirty, and he jumped all over the deal. 489 Their leader was an escaped convict, breaking out of a prison three states over, killing a guard as he went. Manson Franks was number nine on the FBI most wanted list. He had killed two more people on his way here, gathered a group almost as vicious as he was and like minded in their quest for easy money. He talked about Gwen like she was dirt under his feet. "The bitch is crazy. She screws all of us, but swears she loves some guy named Scooby or something like that. She's mainlining like crazy, I expect to wake up every morning and find her dead. She's a gold mine though, when it comes to information about high dollar houses and how easy they are to rob. Manson loves her though, he even gave her the shotgun. It scares the shit out of me to see her waving it around, wondering how high she is. 490 She keeps talking about the ultimate score, a house filled with all sorts of shit, with a giant safe in the basement. It's locked up like Fort Knox, and she swears it's protected by some crazy ghost, and doesn't want to go near it. Manson wants to, he just grins and says 'I ain't afraid of no ghost.' It's supposed to be our next job." 491 It wasn't. The whole group disappeared off the face of the earth for four months, no one knew where the rest of the group, four men and Gwen, were. Rewards were offered, tips were followed up on. The gang member in the hospital suddenly had a seizure and passed, quite painfully, from what I heard. He was without a doubt poisoned, but no one could be sure how, and the video systen somehow went down for two hours. 492 Jim kept up the security for another three months until he decided just spot checks would do. The police eased back, and we were back to living in a quiet neighborhood. Christy finally retired, and joined Jim, and she and the girls planned a wedding, to be paid for by me, apparently. 493 It was a very nice wedding, and I got to walk Christy down the aisle. There was a pretty good crowd, their old friends from the agency, his new friends among the local cops, a few scattered lawyers, mostly ADA's, with a few defense attorneys thrown in to make it interesting. Jen was matron of honor, Lindsey and Sandy were bridesmaids, and Grace was flower girl. The ring bearer was the son of the local Chief of Police. Shaggy was a groomsman, and Jim's brother was best man. Lindsey caught the bouquet, and her date for the event was one of the young patrolmen she had met when we had all the trouble. 494 Miss Agnes was very taken with Shaggy's daughters, especially the youngest one. I was surprised one day to see a new teddy bear on her bed. "Gram gave it to me. She had to show me where it was, though. Wanna see?" 495 Of course I did, she led me to her closet, reached inside and pulled. A false wall swung open, and the shelves were lined with dolls and toys suitable for a young girl. "Gram said I could have more if I was good to Teddy." 496 I smiled. Later on I checked. Teddy was one of the very first teddy bears ever made, and was worth quite a bit to a collector. It meant more to a little girl who was forced to deal with the loss of her mother, though, and deserved to be played with. 497 "Well, Gram, you've made another conquest. Are you going to adopt all the girls that come into this house?" 498 The words floated through my mind. "Yes, especially yours. Get busy." 499 "We're trying Mom." 500 Jim and Christy came home from their honeymoon tanned and relaxed, and seemed in no hurry to move out of the apartment. The had confiscated the tack room, using it as an office. Our documentary on the Merchant and Monroe families, concluding with the opening of the vault, was very well received. It got us more than attention and profit, it got us sued. 501 The long lost Merchant saw the video and was enraged, so he sued us for the contents of the vault. it made good press but little sense, because he was very clear, in writing, that I bought the house, the buildings, and the grounds, 'as is'. His lawyer was sharp, but had no legal basis to pursue the suit. The press had a field day, and one tabloid featured a shot of me, and one of him, side by side. The resemblance was eerie. He looked like me in twenty years, if I took up drinking and stopped exercizing. The made up headline was "Cousin vs Cousin". 502 Jen couldn't get over how much we resembled each other. "It's so weird," she kept saying. Lindsey and the rest of the family agreed. 503 Personally, I didn't like the man. He called once, demanding to be let in the house to do 'inventory', and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Mom didn't seem to like her descendant much. "Relax," I told her. "It would take a court order for him to walk through those doors, and no judge alive would give him one." I politely declined, and hung up on him. He called several more times, getting more abusive every time. I was about to change numbers when Jim advised against it. "Record him," he said, get your lawyer to take it to the judge, and get a restraining order." 504 I recorded the next three calls, each more abusive as he ordered me to turn his 'heritage' over to him. When the judge heard the recordings, he granted the restraining order. Except for court, he was to stay at least a thousand feet away from my property, me, or my family, and was allowed no communication at all except through lawyers. I got a screaming rant when he was served, gave it to my legal team, and four hours later he was in jail for the weekend, going before a Judge on Monday who explained in clear terms that the next incident and he would be held for the duration of the trial, except for when court was in session. 505 Jim and Christy, doing their job, investigated the man. Seems he had squandered quite a bit of money over his forty-five years, the sale of the house was the only thing that kept him solvent. Faced with the thought of selling his penthouse condo and vacation home, he came up with the idea of suing me after watching the documentary, in the wild hope of getting something from me. 506 He lost the suit, and almost lost his vacation home to the lawyers for legal bills. I offered him some memoriabilia of his anscestors, and he shook with anger. "Screw those snobby people. They're why I'm living in Califoria. They threw my Dad out, banished him to California, and threatened to cut off his inheritance if he ever came back. I never knew any of them, and I don't want to be reminded now." 507 In one of our final meetings, I shocked the family by offering him an olive branch. With everything going on, we had yet to open the safety deposit boxes. I took the keys with me to our last meeting, and offered him his choice of keys, if he signed the papers and went away. He conferred with his lawyers, and came back to me. 508 He didn't speak, but let the lawyer do the talking. "My client insists on all the keys. He considers them part of the inheritance you denied him." 509 I stood, signalling the family and lawyers. They also rose. "Well then. When this is all over and he's back in the land of the fruits and the nuts, poorer than he was when he started this, I wonder how often he will obsess over this offer, and what he might have found had he accepted our generous gift. I forsee a lot of sleepless nights for your client. Good day. We'll see you in court." 510 We were standing by the elevators when a junior associate came running up to us. "Come back! Our client is willing to negotiate." 511 I grinned. "Your bosses have a dog of a case. All I need to do is sit back and let the trial run it's course. I think I'll get my team to come up with a few roadblocks, maybe stretch this thing out. I think I'll shoot for a year. By the time it's over, you won't have won anything, and your client will be too broke to pay you. Have a pleasant evening." 512 He was standing in shock, mouth hanging open, as the elevator doors closed. 513 "You're not really going to do that, are you honey?" 514 I cuddled Jen a little, grinning. "No, I'm already tired of the whole thing. That was just a message to his lawyers, a motivational technique. They now know that I have enough money to drag this along forever, and he's not solvent enough to last in the long haul. I'm sure a better offer will be forthcoming. Very, very soon." 515 I didn't notice Jim pick up the water glass Mr. Merchant used and wrap it in a napkin. 516 The next week (the earliest I would meet with them, costing him another week of legal bills)we all sat down again. Mr. Merchant was under strict orders not to speak, as the lawyer agreed to withdraw everything in exchange for two of the safety deposit boxes. We left. 517 Another week went by before we met again. My opponent was beginning to show signs of strain. The lawyer had a neat stack of paper before him, all ready for me to sign. I had my chief lawyer drop them in the waste basket. "One page, all claims relinquished by your client, in exchange for one key. He has lost the right to choose, so he gets what we say he gets. Do it, right now, or I walk and don't look back. Last chance. I'm taking my friends to lunch, so you have one hour." 518 We enjoyed lunch, while our opponents probably had heartburn. They were waiting for us when we got back, two copies of a single sheet on the table. My lawyer read it, nodded, and we signed. That was it, the suit was no more. 519 "Which one do I get?" he asked, bitterly. 520 "I have no idea. I didn't say I'd choose, I just said you couldn't." I opened the conference room door just as an intern or secretary walked by, surprising her by asking her in for just a second. She looked scared to death, but our attorney nodded to her, so she stepped in. 521 "This will only take a few minutes, and I insist on paying for your time. Will you help?" 522 The young woman nodded, slowly, wondering what was going on. 523 "All right then. Please turn your back." I put the deposit box keys on the table, over three sheets of paper I'd marked 1, 2, and 3. "Now, I have the numbers one, two, and three marked on sheets in front of us. Choose a number quickly, the first one you think of." 524 "Three!" 525 I thanked her for her time, and asked what she was doing before we pulled her in. "I was going to lunch." 526 "Well, enjoy yourself, and I'm sure your bosses won't fuss if you're a little late getting back. Right, Harold?" 527 "Take 90 minutes, Miss Andrews, please. Enjoy your lunch." 528 She started out the door and I stopped her. "One more thing. I told you that you would be paid for your time. How much should I give her, girls?" 529 Christy spoke first. "A hundred, at least. Plus you need to buy her lunch. There's a nice Ruth-Chris just around the corner." 530 Lindsey laughed. "Cheapskate! Five hundred, and instead of lunch make it dinner for two. I'm sure she can find someone, the restaurant is really exceptional." 531 Jen scoffed as the woman's eyes got bigger and bigger. "Pikers! A grand, honey, and the meal. Do it!" 532 Jim was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. "You know you always listen to your wife, Dean. Throw in a limo, just to make it a meal to remember." 533 "Done! Enjoy your lunch, Miss Andrews. A cerified check will be on your desk when you get back, and Jen will email you with the details of your transportation and dinner. Thank you again." 534 The poor woman was crying when she left. I'm sure her grandchildren would be hearing for years how a bunch of eccentric millionaires dragged her into a conference room for five minutes, and gave her a thousand dollars. If I were a betting man, I'd wager she would tell the tale of the limo ride and dinner while she was at it. 535 I turned back to the lawyer. "Give him the key. Mr. Merchant, this concludes our business. You know, if you had just come out and looked at the place, all I have would be yours now. Good luck with the key." 536 If looks could kill Jen would have been a very wealthy widow. He snatched the key from the table and stomped out, his lawyers in tow. Headed straight to the bank, no doubt. My lawyer told me later that the firm he used got pretty much everything that was in the box to pay their bills, so the man netted hardly anything. On the other hand, he didn't lose much either, and it was a good learning experience. We took the experience to heart, and looked in the other two boxes. 537 There were valuables in the first box, several hundred thousand dollar s worth of jewels, coins, and a few rare stamps. I think we were starting to get immune to wealth because it stirred no excitement in us. The second surprised us, holding nothing but a huge Bible, going back to the early 1800's. It was the Monroe family Bible, and the front sheets and most of the back ones were full of deaths and births. The last entries were made by Miss Agnes. 538 My grandmother, now mostly confined to a wheelchair, took a keen interest in it. I gave it to her, hoping she would get some enjoyment out of reading the records, and comfort in the actual text. She would give us detailed accounts of all Miss Agnes's predecessors, including two brothers who were in the Civil War, one on each side. They never had to face each other in battle, one was with Lee, while the other served on the Western front as an artillery officer, and was at the seige of Vicksburg. When it was over, they went back home and became partners in several very successful ventures. 539 Chapter 19 Something was wrong with Mom, the girls and I could feel it, as did Grace and Grandma. Sandy did too, but not as strongly as us. She seemed...nervous, for lack of a better word. We all talked to her, and it helped, a little. I was worried that maybe her time had finally come, and she was going to leave us for her well deserved rest. 541 "It's got something to do with the Bible. Every time I take it out I feel her hovering. It doesn't seem to make her angry, or sad, just...anxious. She won't tell me what it is. Maybe you guys can get her to tell you. Either way, I think she needs resolution on whatever is bothering her." Grandma had known pretty early on something was going on in our house, but it took four months before Miss Agnes revealed herself, in a dream. She asked us who Miss Agnes was the next day and we showed her the portrait. "That's her," she said. "I dreamed about her last night. We had a pretty deep conversation, mostly about you guys. She's an interesting woman." 542 Knowing wasn't accepting, and it took another few months before she came to terms with the situation. I walked into her room one day to see her staring intensely at a chessboard. "What are you doing, Grandma?" 543 She rolled her eyes and grinned. Jen seems to think I got my sarcastic wit directly from her. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm playing chess." 544 "Against yourself?" 545 "No, dummy, not myself. I'm playing Agnes. And let me tell you, she is very determined to win, every time. We've played eight times so far, and she's won six. Not much of a gracious loser either. She knocked the pieces across the room tghe first time I won, and I made her pick them up. I wasn't going to get on my knees, I'd never get back up." 546 "How do you know what moves she wants?" Grandma really did roll her eyes then. 547 "Well, when the piece moves from point A to point B, I'm pretty sure that's what she has in mind. Now shoo, I think I got her this time." I got a mental image of Miss Agnes concentrating, a frown creasing her forhead. She just barely acknowledged me as I walked out, grinning. 548 I thought about it for a while, and one Tuesday I took my bike out for a ride, the Bible in one of the saddlebags. I rode for awhile, enjoying the day, before stopping at a park and finding a picnic table in the shade. Not knowing what I was looking for, I started reading the birth, deaths, the names of the spouse they married, the children they'd brought into the world, their record of spouse and children right up to Mom's generation. 549 Her birth and marriage were recorded, as were the births of all her sons. She recorded the deaths of her children, a few words splotched with was what I knew to be tears. She recorded the marriage of her last son and birth of their grandson. His was the last entry in the Bible. I sighed, having found nothing of any value. I picked up the Bible and walked towards my bike, looking at it and not where I was going, so it shouldn't have surprised me when I stumbled over the tree root, but it did, and down I went, the book flying out of my hands. 550 I landed with a thump and did what everyone does when they do something stupid or embarrassing that doesn't involve real pain, I looked around to see if anybody saw me. It was the middle of the week and the middle of the day, so the place was deserted. I brushed myself off and picked up the Bible, inspecting it to see if it was damaged. 551 That's when I found it. The binding had come loose, and I could see something stuck in the flyleaf. I carefully pulled, and an old evenlope came out, from Agnes to her only grandson. 552 You know, I've always heard that when you experience a life altering event you either remember nothing but the event, or you remember everything. I could hear the insects around the little pond down the hill from the table, the occasional 'rummp' of a frog, the drone from the engine of the small plane that was circling above, the wind through the trees. 553 Most of all, I could hear the roaring in my ears as I read the letter. 554 "Dear Robert, 555 I cannot find the words to tell you how disappointed your father and I are in you. How could you? The woman was married, and yet you still seduced her. The poor woman has to be incredibly stupid or incredibly gullible, and I suspect a mixture of both. You're twenty years her senior, for Heaven's sake. Where was your honor? Did you feel any shame at all while you destroyed her marriage, when she told you she was carrying your child? 556 We would insist you do the right thing, but with you already being married, that would be difficult, would it not? Does your wife know? When the story gets out, how will you explain it to your ten year old son? Think he will understand? 557 You do not have to worry, when the woman contacted us, telling us she was carrying our grandchild, your father investigated, and when her accusations were proven, he did the right thing. He set up an account she can draw from, assuring her regular deposits will be made, more than enough to care for the child's needs. There are no words to describe how we felt when she told us there would be absolutely no contact, her husband didn't know and she was going to her grave keeping the secret. He would think it was his own child. Perhaps it's for the best. 558 We had considered trying to heal the breach between us and your father, he was always headstrong and belligerent, but I'm afraid what you've done puts that to rest. He was the last of our children, and we had great hopes for him, and you. It seems after half a lifetime filled with the sounds of children in a happy household, we will die alone and unmourned. If you're anything like your father, the first that comes to mind when you hear we have passed is how big the inheritance will be. Be assured, you are still blood and shall receive something, but perhaps not as much as you think. 559 In case you ever feel remorse, or interest in the child, I have enclosed her new address. I pray you try to behave with honor in the future, to atone for your sins from the past. I doubt we will see you again, so please, try to give my grandson a good life. Remember your own upbringing. Raise him to be a man of principle and wisdom, to uphold the Merchant name. 560 The letter had been returned unopened, a scrawl on the outside saying there was no one at that address related to them. It took me a minute for the name and address to sink in. 561 "Madeline Harwell, 2410 Oak Lane, Yarboro Ohio." I recognized the name, and the address. It was mine when I was young, my father receiving the house when my grandmother passed. I guessed now it was no accident that I had chosen to buy that particular house. I was the great grandson of Miss Agnes! 562 I must have spent another hour, sitting at the table and thinking, before I was composed enough to ride home. Jen and Lindsey knew something was up when they saw my face. "Later," I said, "I need a few minutes alone with Mom." 563 They left the living room and I stared up at the portrait for a few minutes. I could swear she looked scared. "You knew, didn't you, the first time I came into the house? I wish you would have let me know, but I also know your sense of honor wouldn't let you. That's why you've been so agitated since we brought the Bible home. I'm glad I found out, proud that your blood runs in my veins. I know you're my great grandmother, but I'll always think of you as Mom, or at least the mother I should have had. Wait until I tell the girls." 564 I felt very warm all of a sudden, and got a picture in my head of her standing with her arms spread wide. I must have looked mighty foolish standing in an empty room with my arms spread wide, but I could feel her hugging me, and the kisses she put on my cheek. It probably lasted no more than thirty seconds, but it was enough. 565 Chapter 20 The girls flipped when I told them. Jim and Chrsty just grinned. A thought crossed my mind. 567 "You knew, didn't you?" 568 Jim looked a little sheepish at first. "I suspected. You looked too much alike, and you had a lot of the same mannerisms. I slipped a water glass out of the lawyer's office and had my buddies at the Bureau run it for DNA, and compare it to a sample of yours. When they came back as a match I wrestled over what to do, and Christy told me to let sleeping dogs lie. I have to tell you, though, I lost sleep over it, and I'm glad you discovered the truth." 569 I nodded, seeing the wisdom of what he said. I don't think any of our friends were surprised when I took the evidence to a Judge, and asked if it was legal to change my name to Merchant. He looked at the papers and sighed. "My grandfather worked for your great grandfather as an engineer for a few years. He would often talk of him with respect. Your grandfather, not so much. He was the bad seed of the family, I'm afraid, always into things that his father had to get him out of. He finally had enough, and there was a pretty big row. He left that night, moving to the Midwest. I understand there was some kind of a scandal there, and he moved on to California. I guess now I know what the scandal was. 570 As for changing your name, it's a pretty easy process. People change their names for all kind of reasons. I for one will be glad to see a Merchant back in the house and the community. Get a lawyer and have him put you on the docket, and we'll go from there." 571 When I told Jen, she cried for an hour with happiness. Three weeks later we were in front of a Judge, and pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Dean Merchant. 572 Miss Agnes, if anything, was even more happy. We could hear her hum in the vents, and hear Grace and Sandy giggle often over something she had revealed to them. Lindsey and her young police officer were growing closer, and it had been months since anyone had seen anything of Gwen. Shaggy had started divorce proceedings based on desertion, and in less than ninety days he would be a single parent. He told us he felt safe enough to move back into his house. We would be sad to see them go, especially Grace, who had become a surrogate daughter to us all. Lindsey had been working on her house, and was going to finally move in, with her fiancee, Robbie. I just looked at Jen and grinned. "Looks like it's time to fill the bedrooms on our own." She grinned back. "It will happen sooner than you think. I went to the doctor yesterday, and I'm almost two months along. I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you. And before you say anything about names, Miss Agnes agreed we could use hers. Agnes Jane Merchant, and we'll call her A.J., if that's all right." 573 The family celebration was epic. Sandy was due to graduate just after the birth, and already had a full golf scholarship from Duke, a noted LPGA factory. In a move that stunned the school she turned the scolarship down but asked if she could still be on the team. They loved the idea, getting the top high school player for free, able to give the scholarship to someone else on their list. Grace just hovered and promised to be the best Aunt in the history of the universe. She and Christy got into a mock argument over it, when she said she would be the best one. They settled it by saying Christy could be the best old aunt(Jim had to stifle a snicker over that), and she would be the best young one. Christy was looking a little wistful, and I grinned. Jim had told me the other day he had contacted a few agencies about becoming foster parents, with an end game of adoption. 574 Gram was smiling, something that was rare these days. Her health was to the point where we had a visiting nurse in three times a week, and the girls hovered when she wasn't there. The doctors told us privately that she would be gone before the year was out. She was spending a lot of time talking to Miss Agnes. I think she was getting her ready to go. 575 We were moving on. Jen's family came in, staying in Lindseys' house, to share the joy. Her mother almost smothered me when she got hold of me. "Congratulations," she said, once she let me breathe. "The best thing that ever happened to this family was you marrying our daughter. You don't know what it means to us when you gave the girls the money to make it through four years of college without worry, as a birthday present. They're looking right now, even though they have two years to make up their minds. I'm pretty sure they're going to different schools, to get away from the twin identity. Joe doesn't know what to say about you picking up the last two years after he graduated from community college, but he is very grateful." 576 "You can stop embarrassing me now. You're my family, the only one I've got. How could I turn my back, especially when the money wasn't an issue? Besides, Jen would have killed me if we didn't help. Quite a girl you raised there, Mom. If they all turn out anywhere close to her, you may not have a lot of money, but you'll have an embarassment of riches in your family." 577 She hugged me again, sniffling. 578 They left, but five months later Mom was back, and would stay until the baby arrived. The kids would be out of school in two weeks, and then the rest of the clan would arrive. 579 I admit it. We let down our guard. The gate was hardly ever closed now, and the security teams had departed. Jim and Christy found a house five blocks over, and moved there with the foster daughter they had taken in. She was fourteen, a victim of abuse and neglect, and extremely nervous in crowds. It took her four months to relax, and soon she was following Sandy around, the big sister she never had. Grace declared herself a little sister, and she often stayed with them. Andrea was smitten with Anne and Jan, and when they arrived it seemed like my pool was always full of giggling girls, followed soon by boys. I watched them like a hawk, and Jen laughed. "What are you going to do when your own daughter grows up?" 580 I didn't like the idea the least little bit. Daughters were supposed to stay young forever, and love their daddies. "Well by the time that happens, I hope there will be a few more for me to concentrate on." That got me an extra nice kiss. 581 We did another documentary, this one about lost children and the state of the social system that let bad things happen to children. The numbers were staggering, and it upset Jen for days. Whenever she got upset, I would rub her tummy, and feel little A.J. kick. It calmed her. We donated all the proceeds from the film to children's shelters and private, non-profit agencies trying to stem the tide. 582 Shaggy, after the divorce went through, finally started dating. He met a really nice woman through our work with children's agencies, impressed with his success as a single parent. She had a little boy, and soon they were having blended family outings. It was the most we had seen him smile in a very long time. Grace really liked her, and Sandy thought she was nice, but she was going away to college and didn't have time to bond as closely as she would have liked. Shaggy brought them over to meet us, and let Mom check them out. She must have approved, because the boy and Grace disappeared upstairs, and came down lugging a croquet set. We had to set it up on the lawn, so they could play, and while we watched and Shaggy and I manned the grill. They had a ball, making up the rules as they went along. They fell asleep snuggled to each other, and Harriet had tears in her eyes as she looked at them. I got a feeling she would be around for a long, long time. 583 But even though if you're a good person you don't dwell on evil, it never forgets you. So it came to pass I came home one Saturday to an eerily quiet house. "Where's everybody at?" I yelled, as I passed from room to room. I suddenly felt Mom's presence, and she was frantic. 584 "We're in the basement, honey. Why don't you grab a couple of Shiners and come on down?" 585 The hair rose on the back of my neck. She'd just used the code we had agreed to in the event intruders got into the house and had control. "Okay. I'll be down in just a minute." 586 I walked into the kitchen, and sent a quick text to Jim, and called 911, immediately hanging up. I waited fifteen seconds and did it again, and turned my phone to mute. It was standard procedure to call back immediately if you called 911, and if you didn't answer they sent someone out. They didn't know the situation, so the police always proceeded with caution. When no one answered the door, they would go looking. 587 I called down the stairs, using our code. "I got the beers. Two be enough? I don't want to be running up and down these stairs." 588 There was a slight hesitation before she answered. "Better bring a six pack, we may be down here for a while." 589 Mentally screaming, I grabbed the phone , letting Jim know there were six intruders and telling him I was going down. He was trying to tell me not to when I hung up and raced to the bedroom. Knowing I couldn't hide a big weapon, I shoved the .380 That had been Agnes's behind my belt, and put the Remington in my front pocket. 590 It was as bad as I expected. Five men, with automatic weapons and shotguns, and Gwen, or at least what I thought was Gwen, holding a sawed off double barrel. The ends of the barrels looked about three feet wide. Her hair was completely gray, going down her back and held out of her eyes by a band. She couldn't weigh more than ninety pounds, if that, the needle tradks reading like a roadmap on her arms. 591 Besides Jen, they had Lindsey, Christy, and Shaggy. It shook me to my core when I saw Grandma sitting off to the side. They had taken everyone who was home down to the basement, carrying her down the stairs. Luckily Grace was in school and Jen's mom went to pick her up, or they would have been there too. I pulled up short in pretended surprise. "What's going on here?" 592 The leader, who I assumed to be Manson Franks, spoke. "We're here to make a withdrawal, Moneybags. You just be cool and do what we say, and your friends and family will have a wild story to tell later on in life. Don't, and I'm sure there will be a nice writeup in the papers about the tragic loss of life. You understanding me? Good, now open the safe." 593 I fumbled with the combination in my haste. I could feel Mom, hovering. Mentally I asked her not to interfere unless she had to, and to give me a little warning if she did. It was plain to see they were disappointed, the vault was empty except for some expensive jewelry the girls kept to wear on occasion, and the rest were mostly keepsakes, valuable to us but not worth much. Maybe a hundred fifty thousand in moveable merchandise and money. Gwen went off like a rocket, clubbing me on the cheek with the butt of her gun, screaming about there being more. 594 "There's not anymore here, Gwen" I told her when I got my breath back. "you should know that, you were here when we emptied it, sending it all to a secure location." 595 "Bullshit!" she screamed, waving the shotgun around until the leader pushed it down. 596 "Chill, baby. We have ways of finding out. Maybe we guys poke a little in baby momma or her friends, or beat the fuck out of their guys while they watch. One or the other will make them talk." 597 I held up my hand. "Hold on there dude. Don't let this thing get away from you. Right now it's just a home invasion. If you rape or assault anyone, it gets a lot more serious. We're telling the truth. That's all there is. I do have another fifty grand in a wall safe upstairs, but other than that and what we have in our pockets, there is no more." 598 Manson Franks sneered. "Right now I'm wanted for escaping prison, ten armed robberies and eight home invasions, and three murders. You think I give a damn if it gets away from me? Let's you and me go upstairs and get that money. Everybody be cool until we get back, and maybe we'll leave." 599 We hardly got up the stairs when Mom brained the man with a ceramic cat. He went down like a rock, out cold. It took me destroying three lamps for the cords, but soon I had him secured, gagged with a dusting cloth I found in the closet. I checked his weapon, glad to see it had a full magazine. 600 "What now, Mom? " I asked, as I racked the slide and made sure the safety was off. I got a mental picture and smiled. It just might work. I took the rifle and hid it behind me as best I could. Mom had projected our plan to the girls, and they were ready. The four guys and Gwen were looking suspiciously, and I was glad I had forgotten to replace the light bulb at the bottom of the stairs. 601 "Where's Franks?" 602 I answered the man as calmly as I could. "He's upstairs, packing the money in a gym bag. I had forgotten about the gold bars, and they're kind of heavy." 603 "Gold, how much gold?" 604 "Well, the last quote I saw put gold at about twelve hundred fifty an ounce, and there were thirty one ounce bars." 605 "Shit!" 606 I had them distracted then, and Mom put her plan into action. The vault lit up, and they could see piles of money in the back. It was all an astral projection, but they bought it. Two of the men went inside, and the vault door promptly slammed. They were watching us, but one turned when the door slammed, and Grandma chose that exact moment to scream and ram the other with her chair. Off balance, he fell back. I took the time to toss Christy the rifle, grabbing the .380 from my belt. He came up roaring and I put three rounds through his head. 607 Christy had the rifle to the other man's head, begging him to give her a reason to pull the trigger. He put his hands up, all fight gone from him. 608 We hadn't forgotten Gwen, and I turned to see Jen wrestling with her hold on the shotgun. Gwen suddenly let go and punched her as hard as she could in the stomach. Jen screamed and collapsed, holding her belly. For someone as drug addled as she was, she was incredible fast. I was just bringing the pistol to bear when she turned loose with both barrels. I felt the blast knock me backwards, but I held up long enough to empty my weapon into her. Then everything went black. 609 Chapter 21 I woke up in the hospital. I was still alive because the shotgun had been loaded with number eight shot and not 00 buckshot. Jen's mom and Linds were in the room, both fast asleep in their chairs. I tried to talk and ended up croaking. It woke Linds up and she punched Mom. 611 "He's awake! Get the others!" 612 Soon I had a room full of people, all crying and laughing, glad to see me alive. My thoughts went to how I had last seen Jen, and I tried to get up. Bells and whistled went off, and soon there were two nurses and a doctor in the mix. They were all trying to hold me down, and I kept calling for Jen. Lindsey finally got her hands on my head and looked me in the eye. 613 Dean! Dean! Listen to me honey. Jen is fine! Do you hear me? She's all right!"" 614 I finally relaxed, although one nurse hovered for awhile. "Where is she? Why isn't she here?" 615 "She's been a little busy, hon," said her mother, with tears in her eyes. "The punch to the stomach sent her into early labor. Your daughter decided she needed to come out and see what the fuss was about. They're resting now." 616 "But she was way early!" 617 "Only about three weeks. She's fine, mommy is fine, now daddy needs to settle down. You'll get to see them both soon, I promise. It's three in the morning or I'd take you now." 618 I relaxed for a moment before it occurred to me. "Is everyone else all right?" 619 "No, you and Jen are not the only ones in our family staying in Hotel Antiseptic. Christy got hit, Shaggy got hit, nothing major but they had to have shot removed and they're resting right now. You'll see them tomorrow." 620 "How's Gram?" 621 The room got quiet, and I knew. Fat, slow tears started rolling down my cheeks. This was so wrong! She deserved to go quietly, among family who loved her and rejoiced in her long life, not gunned down by a rabid druggie. Soon they were all crying. 622 "She caught most of one barrel, honey. If it's any consolation, death was instant, so she didn't suffer." Linds was leaning over me, crying into my chest. She was the only grandma she had ever had. I hugged her with the arm that wasn't hooked into anything, and shared her grief. 623 We finally calmed down, and I started flagging. I barely remember them leaving as I drifted off. 624 The next afternoon Linds and Mom wheeled me to Jen's room, where despite the fussing I stood, leaning over and embracing the love of my life. She cried for a little before smiling. "I've got someone here who wants to meet you, Daddy. Give your daughter a kiss." 625 I felt like I might faint, so I sat back down. Linds stood over me, a tiny bundle in her arms. I was shaking so bad I thought I might drop her, but I had to have her in my arms. I looked into the tiny face, marveling at the sight of my immortality. Miss Agnes would be very proud. I commented on her size, and Jen assured me she would grow very quickly, and in no time I would be chasing her around the house. 626 I stayed until the nurses insisted I go back to my bed. I managed to see Shaggy and Christy before I did, they weren't hit nearly as hard and would be discharged tomorrow. Shaggy's daughters were there, along with Harriet and her little man, hovering over him, and they immediately hugged me, crying as they thanked me for saving their Daddy's life. It was kind of embarrassing. 627 Jim and their soon to be adopted daughter were with Christy, and I immediately had another child hugging and thanking me. "Don't sell your mother short, honey. She did as much saving everyone as me. Your Mom is a hero, baby." 628 Jim just gripped my hand so hard it hurt, his eyes speaking volumes. 629 I made another stop in the hospital two days later, on the way to Gram's funeral. She was strapped to the bed, both hands in cuffs. Gwen had survived, the bulletproof vest she was wearing stopping three of my bullets. She had a nasty gash across her cheek from another bullet, and her arm was in a cast, broken by the last. They gave her just enough drugs to keep her calm, but not enough to get her high, and she was crashing, lying in a puddle of rank sweat, dirty looking hair hanging in clumps. Her eyes got wide when she recognized me and she tried to speak. 630 I put my hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened in terror, thinking I was going to strangle her. "Relax, bitch. Killing you would be giving you a pass. No, I expect you to live a long time in prison. I'll be paying good money to make sure you stay healthy. The only drawback to that plan is the state intends to go after the death penalty for all of you. Killing a wheelchair bound octogenarian won't get you a lot of sympathy with jurors. No, I'll keep you alive, but I won't keep you safe. Every time you experience a beatdown, every time some dyke makes you her bitch, you'll hear a faint sound. That would be me, laughing my ass off. Have a long, miserable life, Gwen." I had no intention of doing anything I told her, I just wanted to mess with her head. Now every bad thing that happens to her in prison would automatically be laid at my feet. I couldn't ask for a better revenge. 631 I turned to go but considered for a minute. I faced her one last time before the trial. "You know, all you had to do was stay clean. Your husband was rich and loved you deeply. You had two really good kids, and you threw it all away for a needle. Was it worth it?" 632 I walked out, as her tears flowed, adding to the dampness of her pillow. 633 She did get the death sentence, but died of natural causes fifteen years later, awaiting the result of yet another appeal. She went to her grave never seeing her daughters again, even though she sent them a letter once a month begging them, and they never even responded when the authorities told them she passed. Shaggy paid to have her cremated, telling the funeral home to dispose of her ashes any way they saw fit. 634 The surviving members of the gang weren't so lucky. Manson Franks was executed three years after the trial, the fastest execution from sentencing to death in the history of the state. Two more got lethal injections four years later, and the last surviving member of the gang killed himself when he found out his execution date. I was invited to every execution, and Jim and I sat and watched every one breath his last. I got to speak to Mason before his execution. 635 "I hear it's like fire in your veins, and you die slowly, and in extreme pain. I like to think so, anyway. Hope hell lives up to it's billing, Franks." 636 I always thought Mom was housebound, so we had the funeral for Gram in the backyard, so she could attend. We explained it was one of her wishes, to be at home one more time before she went to her rest. We all saw it, though we didn't talk much about it. Mom and Gram, standing behind the casket, arms linked, smiling. I'm glad she went out in style. 637 Preacher did the service, breaking down twice. He was now the pastor of a large church he had grown from the tiny congregation he started with, and visited often, especially after Gram started going down hill. He had met a widow his age at church, and it took him two years to work up the courage to ask her to marry him. She slapped his jaw and then kissed him passionately. "The kiss was me saying yes, honey. The slap was for making me wait a year while you screwed up the nerve." 638 Chapter 22 I don't know how I knew, but I knew. Mom was leaving us. 640 She visited in my dreams, smiling as she patted my cheek. "Don't be sad, my son. I would have left sooner, but I had to see my namesake before I left. It's time, I've fulfilled my wish, seeing a Merchant in our home again. Remember, even though I'm leaving this house, I'll always watch over you. I'll be the breeze across your cheek, the sun on your face. I think I loved you and Jen as much as I loved any of my sons. Think fondly of me, tell your daughter of the legacy she has to uphold." 641 She visited the rest of the family, appearing in Sandy's dorm room, Lindsey's dreams, to Grace as she slept, still holding the teddy bear she had given her. Shaggy, Christy, and Jim all got goodbye visits, as well as their daughter. 642 Instinctively, we all gathered one Saturday afternoon, the whole crowd looking up at her portrait, tears flowing from all. We could all hear her in our heads as she said her final farewells, and we watched as the life left the eyes of the portrait. 643 We all mourned her, me especially. I woke to the sound of my baby's cries on the monitor, and not waking Jen, I got her up, fixed her bottle, and walked her around until she burped, before taking her to bed with us. I stopped in front of the portrait. 644 "I don't know if you can hear me, Mom, but thank you again. You helped a lonely vet and a beautiful girl live a wonderful life. Even without the money, we would have always loved you. This child," I said , holding A. J. up to her, "will grow up hearing the stories of your life and legacies. I hope I live long enough to see that happen, that she becomes a woman of integrity and wisdom, just like her mother and grandmother. Goodnight, Mom." 645 For a fleeting second, I thought she was there, but it faded. 646 EPILOGUE 647 Oh! I almost forgot to tell you what we found in the third bay of our garage, when we finally got around to cleaning it years later. The prerequisite junk, of course, but three feet back was a tarp. Under the tarp, in almost pristine condition, was a 1960 Lincoln convertible, the largest American production car ever made. It was the last automobile Miss Agnes owned. We rolled it out, had the engine redone, waxed the body and buffed the leather interior until it looked and ran like it just rolled off the production line. 648 It scares the heck out of me, but Jen and Linds loved the thing, driving it in parades and showing it at car shows and street festivals. They drove it under our company banner, and there was usually three to six children, our children and later our grandchildren, sitting in the back, dressed to the nines , waving and throwing massive amounts of candy. We had set up a charitable foundation, The Merchant-Graham Organization, named for Miss Agnes and Gram, and funded it with seventy-five per cent of our wealth. Lindsey, Christy, and Jen ran it, and when Sandy graduated top of her class, going on to get her MBA at Wharton and her PhD at Oxford, they hired her and after four years turned it over to her and retired. There was a major uproar in the golf world when she decided not to go pro. Shaggy, Jim, and I spend a lot of time on the golf course, though, but our combined scores on just the front nine would be two weeks worth of play for her. Still, it's a lot of fun to watch her when she enters local tournaments. 649 We contacted an artist famous for his portraits, and gave him a commission to paint exact reproductions of Miss Agnes. One resides in every home of what we considered her 'children'. Shaggy, Jim, and Lindsey have it hanging prominently in their houses, and their children have long ago gotten over their custom of talking to it when they had a weighty decision to make. Some have even taken up the habit. 650 A man once said that you are only truly dead when the last person who remembers you passes. If that's true, Miss Agnes will live on, for a very, very, long time. I couldn't be prouder. 651 THE END 652 END