“Of course.”
Bob and I spent the rest of the afternoon hiking through woods and thickets. We dodged mosquitos the size of pterodactyls and sweated like Pat Robertson at a gay pride parade. We were tired, itchy, and dehydrated by the time we returned to the SUV and its air conditioning, yet we were both upbeat.
“Well?” I said. “What do you think?”
“The second inlet’s the best site. It has good drainage, and we won’t have to take down too many old-growth trees.”
“What do you think about a pool?”
“Sure, you could put one there. Although you probably wanna check with civil and have them do some tests. My advice doesn’t go below the topsoil.”
Ross Deegan did a site investigation a couple of days later, and he confirmed what Bob and I suspected.
“The site’s fine. You can build whatever you like. Soil strength and compressibility are good, and ground water won’t be an issue. You might have a problem with erosion during construction, but you can mitigate it with silt fences and a turbidity barrier.” He paused and studied me for a moment. “Is this for the big development you guys started a while back?”
“Sort of. You heard about that?”
“Bob was telling me. Sounds like a big project.”
“It is. A lot of civil engineering.”
“Mmm.”
“We’d probably need a full-time civil department. In-house, I mean.”
“Yeah. We’re spending 76 percent of our time on your projects already.”
I chuckled at the engineer mentality. I’d have said three-quarters.
“It gets old,” he added after a moment.
“What does?”
“Looking for new business all the time.”
“Trip’s good at it.”
“Mmm.”
“Maybe it’s time to talk about bringing you and Alex into the company?” I suggested. “For real, I mean, full-time, with profit sharing and everything.”
“How would that work?”
“No clue,” I replied honestly. “That’s Trip’s department. But I’ll mention it to him.”
“Yeah. Definitely time to hitch our wagon to yours.”
* * *
Trip appeared in my office a week later and set two crystal tumblers on my desk. They were new, probably gifts from Wren, and he poured from a bottle of Jack Daniel’s that wasn’t his usual Gentleman Jack. I saved my work and checked my watch—it was after five but early for our usual chat.
He was in a good mood. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Find such great people. I mean, all of your hires are MVPs. First Bob and Darci. Now Alex and Ross. Even Whitney, as hot and weird as she is. And now that I think about it, Shari’s here ’cause of you.”
“Treat people right.” I sat forward and accepted the glass of whiskey.
“Whatever it is, keep doing it.” He clinked his glass against mine and sank into the chair. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I swallowed and felt my eyelids peel back.
“Sorry,” Trip chuckled, “I should’ve warned you. It’s Single Barrel… ninety-four proof.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” In case I ever need to strip fancy paint.
“It’s new.” He admired the bottle. “Thought I’d give it a try. Anyway, let’s talk about Alex and Ross. I hope you don’t mind that I worked out a deal without you.”
“No problem.”
“The Board will have to ratify it anyway. We’re buying them out. We worked out an all-stock deal, so we don’t have to dip into our cash reserves.”
“Awesome.”
He pretended to study the amber liquid in his glass, but he was really looking at me.
“So,” he said at last, “when were you planning to tell me about the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“Your new house?”
“What about it? It’s just a few ideas at this point.”
“Wren says it’s more than that. You have drawings and everything.”
Sometimes I hated that Wren and Christy were girlfriends. I couldn’t keep a secret unless I went out of my way to tell Christy not to share.
“A house, a pool, a hot tub,” he mused, “plus a bunch of other buildings. Sounds like a whole complex, dude. Are you gonna start a cult?”
“Ha! No, it’s just for us.”
“Wren’s gonna want the same thing. You know that, right? And it’s gonna cost a fortune.”
“So? You can afford it. Besides, if it makes her happy…”
“You got that right. So, what’re you thinking, cost- and schedule-wise?”
I loaded a spreadsheet, dragged it to the left monitor, and angled it toward him.
He leaned forward and studied it. “That isn’t so bad,” he said at last. “Is that everything?”
“Just the house.” I clicked to a second sheet. “That’s everything.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s a jumbo loan.”
“No kidding. We’ll probably use some of our savings instead of financing the whole thing.”
He nodded judiciously.
“Either way, I promised we’d start by our anniversary.” He grew thoughtful, and I sat forward in alarm. “Oh, no… I know that look.”
“What!” he protested.
“You want an anniversary present for Wren.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Dude! That’s next month!”
“So? You did yours in a month.”
“A month! Are you kidding? I’ve been working on this for fifteen years.”
“So? I’ve seen you do a whole design on a cocktail napkin over drinks.”
“Yeah, when I’d been thinking about it for a while!”
“Listen,” he said reasonably, “you already know what we want. Pool, office, music studio. We’ve been telling you for, what, two years?” He mimicked Wren, “Write that down.”
“You’re serious?”
“I know you can do it.”
“Fine. But… gimme a sec.” I checked my schedule for the next month, on the computer and everything. Whitney would’ve been proud. “Yeah, okay,” I said at last, “I’ll make it work.”
“Awesome! Wren’s gonna be stoked.”
“Happy wife, happy life,” I said halfheartedly. Then I took a deep breath and adjusted my attitude. The house really would make Wren happy, which would make Trip happy, and my own wife as well. Happy wife, happy life. “Okay,” I said with considerably more enthusiasm, “let’s start with the style. Any idea what you want?”
“Something like the Hermitage. D’you know it? In Nashville? Or Granville’s place. You’re—”
“No.”
He blinked at my sudden change in attitude. “Excuse me?”
“I know the Hermitage. It was a plantation. A real one, with slaves and everything. Granville’s was built after the war, but it was meant to evoke the same image.” I felt a stab of irritation that I didn’t even have to say which war. We were in the south, after all. “The war” to southerners was always the Civil War, because it had never really ended.
“So?” Trip said. “Plantations are kind of a thing around here. It’s our heritage.”
“I’m not going to build a plantation-style house in Atlanta. No, scratch that. I’m not going to build one anywhere. No way, no how.”
“Why not?”
“Why not! It’s a symbol of slavery and oppression!”
“Oh, brother,” he sighed. “You’re gonna get all politically correct, aren’t you?”
“I shouldn’t have to. Look around. We live in a city that’s 60 percent Black!”
“Maybe downtown,” he protested. “But not where we live.”
“I don’t care. I’m not building a house that reminds people of slavery.”
“Reminds people of slavery?” he repeated incredulously. “A house?”
I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. “No. And that’s final.”
“Whatever. I didn’t wanna argue anyway.”
Then you shouldn’t’ve asked for a plantation house, I thought testily.