Chapter 77 (Part 1)
As I drive, trying to get where I’m needed, it feels like it has been forever since Christmas, but it has only been a couple of weeks. Clean up from the holiday wasn’t easy. It was almost like being hung over. Or perhaps carb-crash is more appropriate descriptor. The Estate, similar to the traditional in my family, didn’t take Christmas decorations down until the first week of January, close to Epiphany. That doesn’t mean that some clean up didn’t occur. New Year was as good a time as any to start the year off right by organizing and pitching or donating what was no longer useful or needed.
I took the time while the corner of the attic was empty of all the boxes of decorations to do more rearranging and organizing up there. And yes God help me, I found still more dishes and glassware and geegaws and whatnots and antiques and photo boxes stuffed full and … and, and, and ad nauseum it seemed. I also found more junk, some of which had deteriorated to the point that it was unrecognizable what it started out as back who knows when. Every time I tried to approach Clint about what to do with what I was finding he would suddenly find something to do on the other side of the Estate. I finally cornered him one night and gave him no choice but to take a look at it all.
He looked and then shrugged and said, “Do the same thing you’ve been doing. Keep, repair or repurpose, or sell.”
Not wanting a repeat of what occurred only a few months back I asked, “What about the Aunts? Reave? Shouldn’t they have something to say about …?”
I never even got to finish. “No. And I mean no. I told everyone that if this junk was so all fired important to them then they could get their butts over here and help. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen any volunteers.”
“Well …”
“Deep subject. Now stop worrying it to death Sweetheart. Just do what you can with it. Just get it out of my hair. I’m tired of having it on the endless list of things that never get finished. And once this project is over I need to come in here … when we can actually move around and see what we’re doing … and see if the roof has any problems that can’t wait.”
So that’s what I did. Or at least what I did for a bit before the work wasn’t worth the return. I mean I continued to clean and make it so the roof could be checked, but selling items petered nearly to a stop. The rooms I’m using to organize and store items in are quickly filling up; one or two of them have started to overflow. Online sales have slowed down now that the gift buying season is over. And I’m not the only one affected. I heard from Julie and Aunt Daffy that online sales of Estate products plummeted as well, even more than in years passed. Early-reservations for cabins and camping spots are up so no one is panicking yet, but some of the businesses were dependent on the online sales to float them between seasons, so it looks like the belt-tightening is here to stay for the foreseeable future much to the chagrin of many. Clint had a thing or three to say about it, not all of it kind where some of the family’s commonsense is concerned. He also was getting sensitive to some of the economizing that I was doing as his male pride was affected. We had near-tiffs about the strangest things.
“You don’t have to make all of the cleaning supplies from scratch anymore,” he complained one day when he went to get some glass cleaner for his truck’s windshield and couldn’t find what he was looking for.
I walked into the closet where I keep such things and pulled out a spray bottle I had put a homemade label on that clearly said “WINDOW CLEANER” in fat, black permanent marker.
“I thought we talked about this way back. I make our own from scratch because its better, lasts longer, and doesn’t leave the house smelling like a chemical spill. The closet is just a little messy from where someone went in and used some of the bottles but didn’t put them back where I had them.”
He made a face knowing he was that guilty party. But rather than admit it he asked, “You sure? ‘Cause …”
“Yes I’m sure Clint,” trying to head off yet another discussion on finances and budgets. “I’m not pinching pennies just to pinch you. The homemade versions really do suit things around here better. The only thing I really need, and I just put it on the list this morning, is more peroxide and a large box of baking soda or powder … or both, I need to look at what I wrote down.”
“Get ‘em both and don’t knit-pick it,” he ordered like a brigadier general before taking the spray bottle and heading to his truck. I counted to ten and gradually I’ve had to up the count to twenty and more. I’m not being stubborn for the reasons he thinks. I’m just … particular. It is how Mom and Gran raised me to be … at least about cleaning supplies. What hurts is some of the “discussions” we’ve had have started to sound too much like some of the arguments Kirk and I had. It made me doubt myself and wonder if I was the problem all along for all of it. It was tough to let that go on some days, and the economic forecasts in the news haven’t helped.
I heard by way of Carra that there are lots of adults applying for the seasonal positions. I asked Clint about that one.
“Adults? Welllll … yeah. Most of the college kids are also adults … technically anyway. We’ve gotten a few Vets applying this time around however and that’s new.”
“Vets? You mean veterans?! How old are the applicants?”
“Nah. Not career types or retirees, more like the type that went in for four or eight years and now aren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. Wounded Warrior program called Grady wanting to know if he’d put a word in for a couple of men as well. The family was agreeable to giving it a try on a probationary period so one of the men will work with Randall in the stables. He has experience as he spent summers working for family that had a horse farm. Cal is going to take the other guy on. Cal understands the guy’s struggles and hopes he can teach him some techniques he had to learn the hard way. If this works out I’m not adverse to continuing working with the Wounded Warrior program. Or at least a similar program. Grady is giving a couple of men from that program a chance at the hotel. We’ll see how it works out.”
I nodded, agreeing in sentiment if not in authority since on those matters I had none. “Carra made it sound like a lot of applicants were adults this time around … significantly older than the college kids I mean.”
“We’ve certainly gotten more than usual. And some of them actually have the experience we’re looking for. If their backgrounds check out then some of the kids that thought they had a revolving summer job may find out they need to make new plans. The kids from the Estate School are going to take some of those slots anyway. The Hen Club is already going over last year’s employment roster to see who they are definitely willing to cut and just as importantly, who they aren’t. The apprentice program looks like it is going to be a winner for all of us. No more inherited jobs, competition has come to Haines Estate the same as it has come to every other place.”
I know it sounds heartless. I would hate to be one of those college kids that thought they had a summer gig in the bag only to be waiting on a letter than never arrives. But as the State makes employment and insurance requirements stricter, the Estate doesn’t have any choice but to require more of the staff, including seasonal staff. Clint says they are looking at having to cut one or more positions just because the minimum wage increase is expected to pass in the Spring. The Estate may have escaped last year’s troubles through luck and ingenuity, but there is a new round facing them … us … this year.
Clint had no sooner talked to me about some of the economics of the coming year when he asks me if I’d go to Bryson City with him for New Years … and stay the night in a hotel. Together. Alone. Carra was going to stay the night with Lindy with Cody’s blessing. Unlike a lot of other things recently, he didn’t take my acceptance for granted so it made it easier to say yes. His broad grin of pleasure at my answer was my reward and I’m glad now that I said yes without bringing anything else up.
Dinner, dancing, a party at the hotel and then after midnight we “retired to our room.” I was prepared to … well I came prepared but Clint said he was satisfied with what we did do and since we hadn’t set a date, while the temptation was certainly there, his refusal to risk an unplanned pregnancy was still stronger. Was I disappointed? I’ve waffled back and forth. At the time it made me love him all the more. It made me respect him all the more as well. The last few days though I’ve wondered – and for a while thought I had cause to wonder – if it was more of a control issue than one of temptation and desire.
The day after we returned Aunt Florence cornered me and as Gran would have called it “started to kick up a fuss” about the example Clint and I were setting and a few other things. I was forced to let her in on the fact that what she was most worried about was not happening. At her surprised expression all I could do was blush and stutter. “Clint and I both have … reasons … for wanting to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself. I’m sorry if there has been some concern we haven’t addressed. I’ll speak to Clint and …”
“No! Er … no Dear, that isn’t necessary. I should have realized that Clint would be sensitive to the possibility. He was just so … reckless … as a younger man. And now with all his responsibilities it is even more important that things run smoothly and more in line with the correct family traditions we want to foster. I’ll explain to the others who’ve been every bit as concerned as I have. You understand.”
I did. That didn’t mean that I wanted to talk about it with each and every Aunt and assorted other family members, nor was I comfortable not telling Clint about the conversation. Unfortunately I didn’t have to make that choice.
“Dammit Shanna! I deserve a little privacy doncha think?!”
Since those were the first words he flung at me upon entering the house it took me a moment to recover and figure out what he’d been talking about.
When I didn’t immediately respond he went on some diatribe about Julie nonchalantly bringing it up and saying the Hens were all happy they have one less thing to worry about. However he made a wrong assumption. He thought I’d been gossiping with Julie. I set him straight on that front.
“No. It wasn’t Julie.”
“Then who the hell was it?!” he snarled.
I tried counting and gave up. “Well Clint, how about you tell me how you would have handled if it had been you that Aunt Florence cornered in the pantry with a lecture on the birds and the bees and how distraught she was at the very thought of history potentially repeating?! I mean it isn’t like they all must suspect I have neither commonsense nor morals – unless avarice is driving me to ‘catch’ or force you into marriage rather than destroy the family name.”
“Er …”
“And you they are sure are susceptible based on the large number of women and girls you’ve consorted with previously.”
“Now wait just a damn minute. She didn’t …”
“She might as well have. And apparently they’ve all been worried all along and now they are so relieved to know that you … YOU … have things in hand and won’t disappoint the family, what with all of your responsibilities and all and it is up to me to be understanding and accept that’s just the way it has to be. Because of course I wouldn’t come to that conclusion on my own for my own reasons!” I slammed the pan in my hand down – before I dropped it or threw it – and went to go for a walk. The problem with that was I didn’t have a jacket on and the rain that had been threatening had arrived and was like walking face first into a Slush Puppy. “Argh!”
So despite my feelings I decided to use some commonsense rather than court pneumonia and return the way I had come and headed to my bathroom to dry off.
“You finished?” Clint asked carefully.
“Drying off or throwing a hissy fit?”
“Either or.”
The look I shot him warned him that he was treading dangerously close to the end of the patience and manners I was struggling to lay claim to.
“Shanna … I just wish you hadn’t said anything.”
“And I wish I hadn’t been forced to defend us from their concerns on the subject. But you weren’t here and not even you would have been able to tell your Aunt to shut up and leave us alone, that we know what we are doing, and it is none of their business. And if you say you can, I’d like to see it so I can have a good example for next time something like this happens … because you know it will.”
He was silent for a moment and then said, “It will.” I turned to leave and go back to putting dinner onto plates so he and Carra could eat … because I was no longer hungry and had a stomach full of acid on top of it.
“Shanna …”
“What?”
“I … shouldn’t have tore into you like that. I know what the Hens can be like.”
I shook my head and said, “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It happened and I’ll deal with it. Do me a favor and stick your head in Carra’s door and call her for dinner on your way down the hall to wash up. She has those Bluetooth things in again and she won’t hear you unless you are right on top of her.”
“Why isn’t she down here helping instead of sitting on her butt listening to music?”
“Because this is my job and her job is to finish her homework now that school has started back up. She has a big science project that must be finished before MLK Jr. day since she is going to spend that weekend with Keller.”
“Great. More traveling and more gas and wear and tear on your car.”
As I drive, trying to get where I’m needed, it feels like it has been forever since Christmas, but it has only been a couple of weeks. Clean up from the holiday wasn’t easy. It was almost like being hung over. Or perhaps carb-crash is more appropriate descriptor. The Estate, similar to the traditional in my family, didn’t take Christmas decorations down until the first week of January, close to Epiphany. That doesn’t mean that some clean up didn’t occur. New Year was as good a time as any to start the year off right by organizing and pitching or donating what was no longer useful or needed.
I took the time while the corner of the attic was empty of all the boxes of decorations to do more rearranging and organizing up there. And yes God help me, I found still more dishes and glassware and geegaws and whatnots and antiques and photo boxes stuffed full and … and, and, and ad nauseum it seemed. I also found more junk, some of which had deteriorated to the point that it was unrecognizable what it started out as back who knows when. Every time I tried to approach Clint about what to do with what I was finding he would suddenly find something to do on the other side of the Estate. I finally cornered him one night and gave him no choice but to take a look at it all.
He looked and then shrugged and said, “Do the same thing you’ve been doing. Keep, repair or repurpose, or sell.”
Not wanting a repeat of what occurred only a few months back I asked, “What about the Aunts? Reave? Shouldn’t they have something to say about …?”
I never even got to finish. “No. And I mean no. I told everyone that if this junk was so all fired important to them then they could get their butts over here and help. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t seen any volunteers.”
“Well …”
“Deep subject. Now stop worrying it to death Sweetheart. Just do what you can with it. Just get it out of my hair. I’m tired of having it on the endless list of things that never get finished. And once this project is over I need to come in here … when we can actually move around and see what we’re doing … and see if the roof has any problems that can’t wait.”
So that’s what I did. Or at least what I did for a bit before the work wasn’t worth the return. I mean I continued to clean and make it so the roof could be checked, but selling items petered nearly to a stop. The rooms I’m using to organize and store items in are quickly filling up; one or two of them have started to overflow. Online sales have slowed down now that the gift buying season is over. And I’m not the only one affected. I heard from Julie and Aunt Daffy that online sales of Estate products plummeted as well, even more than in years passed. Early-reservations for cabins and camping spots are up so no one is panicking yet, but some of the businesses were dependent on the online sales to float them between seasons, so it looks like the belt-tightening is here to stay for the foreseeable future much to the chagrin of many. Clint had a thing or three to say about it, not all of it kind where some of the family’s commonsense is concerned. He also was getting sensitive to some of the economizing that I was doing as his male pride was affected. We had near-tiffs about the strangest things.
“You don’t have to make all of the cleaning supplies from scratch anymore,” he complained one day when he went to get some glass cleaner for his truck’s windshield and couldn’t find what he was looking for.
I walked into the closet where I keep such things and pulled out a spray bottle I had put a homemade label on that clearly said “WINDOW CLEANER” in fat, black permanent marker.
“I thought we talked about this way back. I make our own from scratch because its better, lasts longer, and doesn’t leave the house smelling like a chemical spill. The closet is just a little messy from where someone went in and used some of the bottles but didn’t put them back where I had them.”
He made a face knowing he was that guilty party. But rather than admit it he asked, “You sure? ‘Cause …”
“Yes I’m sure Clint,” trying to head off yet another discussion on finances and budgets. “I’m not pinching pennies just to pinch you. The homemade versions really do suit things around here better. The only thing I really need, and I just put it on the list this morning, is more peroxide and a large box of baking soda or powder … or both, I need to look at what I wrote down.”
“Get ‘em both and don’t knit-pick it,” he ordered like a brigadier general before taking the spray bottle and heading to his truck. I counted to ten and gradually I’ve had to up the count to twenty and more. I’m not being stubborn for the reasons he thinks. I’m just … particular. It is how Mom and Gran raised me to be … at least about cleaning supplies. What hurts is some of the “discussions” we’ve had have started to sound too much like some of the arguments Kirk and I had. It made me doubt myself and wonder if I was the problem all along for all of it. It was tough to let that go on some days, and the economic forecasts in the news haven’t helped.
I heard by way of Carra that there are lots of adults applying for the seasonal positions. I asked Clint about that one.
“Adults? Welllll … yeah. Most of the college kids are also adults … technically anyway. We’ve gotten a few Vets applying this time around however and that’s new.”
“Vets? You mean veterans?! How old are the applicants?”
“Nah. Not career types or retirees, more like the type that went in for four or eight years and now aren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. Wounded Warrior program called Grady wanting to know if he’d put a word in for a couple of men as well. The family was agreeable to giving it a try on a probationary period so one of the men will work with Randall in the stables. He has experience as he spent summers working for family that had a horse farm. Cal is going to take the other guy on. Cal understands the guy’s struggles and hopes he can teach him some techniques he had to learn the hard way. If this works out I’m not adverse to continuing working with the Wounded Warrior program. Or at least a similar program. Grady is giving a couple of men from that program a chance at the hotel. We’ll see how it works out.”
I nodded, agreeing in sentiment if not in authority since on those matters I had none. “Carra made it sound like a lot of applicants were adults this time around … significantly older than the college kids I mean.”
“We’ve certainly gotten more than usual. And some of them actually have the experience we’re looking for. If their backgrounds check out then some of the kids that thought they had a revolving summer job may find out they need to make new plans. The kids from the Estate School are going to take some of those slots anyway. The Hen Club is already going over last year’s employment roster to see who they are definitely willing to cut and just as importantly, who they aren’t. The apprentice program looks like it is going to be a winner for all of us. No more inherited jobs, competition has come to Haines Estate the same as it has come to every other place.”
I know it sounds heartless. I would hate to be one of those college kids that thought they had a summer gig in the bag only to be waiting on a letter than never arrives. But as the State makes employment and insurance requirements stricter, the Estate doesn’t have any choice but to require more of the staff, including seasonal staff. Clint says they are looking at having to cut one or more positions just because the minimum wage increase is expected to pass in the Spring. The Estate may have escaped last year’s troubles through luck and ingenuity, but there is a new round facing them … us … this year.
Clint had no sooner talked to me about some of the economics of the coming year when he asks me if I’d go to Bryson City with him for New Years … and stay the night in a hotel. Together. Alone. Carra was going to stay the night with Lindy with Cody’s blessing. Unlike a lot of other things recently, he didn’t take my acceptance for granted so it made it easier to say yes. His broad grin of pleasure at my answer was my reward and I’m glad now that I said yes without bringing anything else up.
Dinner, dancing, a party at the hotel and then after midnight we “retired to our room.” I was prepared to … well I came prepared but Clint said he was satisfied with what we did do and since we hadn’t set a date, while the temptation was certainly there, his refusal to risk an unplanned pregnancy was still stronger. Was I disappointed? I’ve waffled back and forth. At the time it made me love him all the more. It made me respect him all the more as well. The last few days though I’ve wondered – and for a while thought I had cause to wonder – if it was more of a control issue than one of temptation and desire.
The day after we returned Aunt Florence cornered me and as Gran would have called it “started to kick up a fuss” about the example Clint and I were setting and a few other things. I was forced to let her in on the fact that what she was most worried about was not happening. At her surprised expression all I could do was blush and stutter. “Clint and I both have … reasons … for wanting to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself. I’m sorry if there has been some concern we haven’t addressed. I’ll speak to Clint and …”
“No! Er … no Dear, that isn’t necessary. I should have realized that Clint would be sensitive to the possibility. He was just so … reckless … as a younger man. And now with all his responsibilities it is even more important that things run smoothly and more in line with the correct family traditions we want to foster. I’ll explain to the others who’ve been every bit as concerned as I have. You understand.”
I did. That didn’t mean that I wanted to talk about it with each and every Aunt and assorted other family members, nor was I comfortable not telling Clint about the conversation. Unfortunately I didn’t have to make that choice.
“Dammit Shanna! I deserve a little privacy doncha think?!”
Since those were the first words he flung at me upon entering the house it took me a moment to recover and figure out what he’d been talking about.
When I didn’t immediately respond he went on some diatribe about Julie nonchalantly bringing it up and saying the Hens were all happy they have one less thing to worry about. However he made a wrong assumption. He thought I’d been gossiping with Julie. I set him straight on that front.
“No. It wasn’t Julie.”
“Then who the hell was it?!” he snarled.
I tried counting and gave up. “Well Clint, how about you tell me how you would have handled if it had been you that Aunt Florence cornered in the pantry with a lecture on the birds and the bees and how distraught she was at the very thought of history potentially repeating?! I mean it isn’t like they all must suspect I have neither commonsense nor morals – unless avarice is driving me to ‘catch’ or force you into marriage rather than destroy the family name.”
“Er …”
“And you they are sure are susceptible based on the large number of women and girls you’ve consorted with previously.”
“Now wait just a damn minute. She didn’t …”
“She might as well have. And apparently they’ve all been worried all along and now they are so relieved to know that you … YOU … have things in hand and won’t disappoint the family, what with all of your responsibilities and all and it is up to me to be understanding and accept that’s just the way it has to be. Because of course I wouldn’t come to that conclusion on my own for my own reasons!” I slammed the pan in my hand down – before I dropped it or threw it – and went to go for a walk. The problem with that was I didn’t have a jacket on and the rain that had been threatening had arrived and was like walking face first into a Slush Puppy. “Argh!”
So despite my feelings I decided to use some commonsense rather than court pneumonia and return the way I had come and headed to my bathroom to dry off.
“You finished?” Clint asked carefully.
“Drying off or throwing a hissy fit?”
“Either or.”
The look I shot him warned him that he was treading dangerously close to the end of the patience and manners I was struggling to lay claim to.
“Shanna … I just wish you hadn’t said anything.”
“And I wish I hadn’t been forced to defend us from their concerns on the subject. But you weren’t here and not even you would have been able to tell your Aunt to shut up and leave us alone, that we know what we are doing, and it is none of their business. And if you say you can, I’d like to see it so I can have a good example for next time something like this happens … because you know it will.”
He was silent for a moment and then said, “It will.” I turned to leave and go back to putting dinner onto plates so he and Carra could eat … because I was no longer hungry and had a stomach full of acid on top of it.
“Shanna …”
“What?”
“I … shouldn’t have tore into you like that. I know what the Hens can be like.”
I shook my head and said, “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It happened and I’ll deal with it. Do me a favor and stick your head in Carra’s door and call her for dinner on your way down the hall to wash up. She has those Bluetooth things in again and she won’t hear you unless you are right on top of her.”
“Why isn’t she down here helping instead of sitting on her butt listening to music?”
“Because this is my job and her job is to finish her homework now that school has started back up. She has a big science project that must be finished before MLK Jr. day since she is going to spend that weekend with Keller.”
“Great. More traveling and more gas and wear and tear on your car.”