Red Clover (11 page)

“I’ve been fine. And you?”

“Tell me what you have been doing with yourself these days.”

“Oh, a little of this, little of that. Getting to know this area better to see if this is where I want to settle down.”

“Settle down?”

“Mm-hm.”
Here it comes.

His mother had a habit of sitting so straight in her chair, Lee worried that one day her body might freeze in that position. Today was no exception. “And what are you planning to do to settle down?”

“I’m not sure. I was thinking of maybe building a house for myself.”

“Well, it is true you can’t stay here indefinitely.”

The comment took him by surprise. It didn’t sound offhanded—it sounded as if it may have been something she and his father had discussed.

“Yes, I know. There are a few towns just south of here, some in Wisconsin and some in Illinois, that seem nice. Are you familiar with any of the neighboring towns?”

“No, dear. I can’t say I am.” A watery smile crossed her face. “I think Uncle Nelson owned a parcel of land somewhere around here. I wonder what happened to it after he died. I don’t recall seeing it in his will.”

“No?”

“Maybe he sold it. He owned so much. I couldn’t keep track of everything.”

Lee hoped she didn’t notice his chest heaving.

They sipped their tea in stony silence for several moments before she said, “And then what?”

“And then what, what?”

“Let’s say you find a nice piece of property and build a house on it. Then what?”

“Please, Mother, wouldn’t that alone be enough of an accomplishment to tide me over for a little while? You wouldn’t want me to burn myself out, would you?” He flashed her a wide smile.

“I know you’re being facetious, Lee, but you know if your—”

“If Father were here, I wouldn’t have said that.”

She pursed her lips. “You know I only want success for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe you do. But will you please keep in mind that what you and Father and Nelson and Bennett believe is the definition of success, I may not.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He rose from his chair, walked over to the wall of windows, and then turned to face her. “I’m just saying not everyone defines success in terms of money.” He couldn’t read her facial expression—somewhere between disbelief and controlled horror. “Sometimes you can make a positive difference in this world without making any money at it. I would say that could also define success.” He had no idea what prompted him say that.

“Could you ask Shaneta to bring some more hot water, dear?”

Lee left the room and returned fearful of how this conversation was going to end. His mother had moved from her chair overlooking the lake to a sofa facing the interior of the room.

“Come. Sit here by me, Lee.”

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“I understand what you’re saying about success. I really do. But you have to understand money is the essential foundation you need to amount to anything in life. All the other things—being happy, feeling good about what you do, making a difference in this world—you can have that too. But first, you need to be successful where it counts. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“No, Mother, I don’t. We all have different values, different priorities.”

“What you’re not hearing me say is that the Winekoops and Sam...the Winekoops of course, all have the same values.”

“Who’s Sam?”

“Look, Lee, I am just trying to smooth the way for you when your father arrives later tonight. Be prepared to hear the conditions for you continuing to stay here.”

“Conditions?”

“He’ll tell you about them.”

“I think I’d rather hear them from you. Who’s Sam?”

“There is no Sam. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She got up to leave. “I’m going to lie down for a while. I thought we’d go to the club for lunch. Have Helen wake me at eleven-thirty, will you please?”

“Yes, of course, Mother.”

“And I wouldn’t share your thoughts about what defines success with your father,” she said before disappearing up the staircase.

After they returned home from lunch at the local country club, Lee’s mother went back to her bedroom and didn’t come back down until dinner, which was not unusual for her. For the evening meal, Shaneta prepared poached salmon, one of his mother’s favorite meals but not something that appealed to Lee. He suspected Shaneta understood whom she had to please to keep her job.

They were drinking port in the living room when his father arrived. As his father poured a glass for himself, Lee’s mother inquired about his meeting.

“This is how a business deal should go down.” He turned to Lee. “Listen to this, Lee. You might learn something.”

Lee responded with a weak nod.
Like I have any choice?

Henry sat in the largest chair in the room, crossed his legs, and puffed out his chest.

“I walked into this deal prepared to purchase three commercial downtown buildings in the heart of the city. I came out with four, and the fourth one didn’t cost me a cent.”

“How did you manage that, dear?”

“Homework, Abbey. I did my homework. I hired a couple of good bird dogs to sniff out the owner’s other properties and found out this fourth building had mostly short-term leases, and he’s losing money on them. I already own a neighboring building where we just signed a new ten-year lease with Wisconsin Energy. They’re going to take four floors where there are currently twenty other tenants whose leases are all coming up. I’ll give them some attractive incentives to get as many of them as I can to sign a long-term lease in the new building, and everybody wins.”

“But how did you get it for nothing?” Abigale asked.

“Because I played hardball in the beginning and gave them the impression I could back out of the deal without much provocation.”

His father went on and on relaying a story that only proved to Lee just how manipulative his father could be when it came to money.

Henry stared at Lee. “If only you had inherited some of your—”

“Henry.”

“Yes, dear.” Henry got up and headed toward the stairs. “I’m turning in. This was a good day.”

Lee’s mother waited for her husband to be out of earshot before saying to Lee, “You might want to sleep in tomorrow...give us a chance to slip out before he remembers the real reason for our stopping by.”

Lee really liked it when it appeared his mother was on his side.

10 | Learning to Drive

Lee waited for his parents to leave the next morning and then typed the letter to Stonebugger. He kept it brief, thinking it wise not to divulge too much information—”the smaller the target, the less chance of being shot down”—one of his father’s favorite sayings.

He felt somewhat transformed as he drove to the post office. Not completely grown up—after all, he still internally referred to his trustee as “Scrooge,” and he didn’t support himself, another factor he suspected disqualified him from bona fide adulthood. But at least he didn’t feel like he was merely drifting along through life waiting for the next thing to happen.

I think I’m finally in the driver’s seat. Now all I have to do is learn how to drive.

* * *

Stonebugger called him one evening the following week with a list of questions, all asked in the same dreadful monotone he had used in their first meeting. Lee answered as best he could and was told he would hear back from him by letter. As soon as he got off the phone, he told Shaneta he wouldn’t be home for dinner and headed for Deer Bottom Inn.

Lee chose the route to the inn that took him by his property. When he was a half-mile from its nearest border, he saw a car pulling an enclosed trailer move from the shoulder onto the road. He slowed down and then followed the car to the corner of Attenberg Road and Route 173 where they both stopped for the Stop sign. As the other car turned left, Lee glanced inside and saw that the driver looked a lot like Sheriff DeRam.

Lee considered turning left and following the car, but thinking he was probably being paranoid about the sheriff, he decided against it and turned right, toward Rockton.

The inn was crowded. He half-listened to the song blaring from the jukebox while he waited for CJ to notice him.

“Hey, Socrates. What’s cookin’?”

The sound of her voice calmed him. He acknowledged her question with a nod and smile.

She put her hand on the Bud tap and gave him an
Is-this-what-you-want?
look.

Lee nodded and mouthed, “And a menu.”

She handed him the beer and said, “You don’t need the stinkin’ menu. You’re having pizza.”

“CJ?”

“Soc?”

“I’ve never had pizza before.”

She stared at him. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nope. Never had it. I wouldn’t even know how to order it.”

“What planet are you from, Dexter?”

“That’s a provocative question.”

“Ha! I’d respond to that if I knew what it meant.”

“It means stimulating...but it can also mean aggravating.”

“That’s what I hate about big words—they have more than one meaning. Now, had you said that question was interesting, everyone would know what you mean. Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you to be more real, Soc.” She walked away to wait on another customer.

Twenty minutes later, CJ brought him another beer and a pizza...fully loaded. He wished the light was better in the bar so he could identify what was on it.

“Don’t look at it like it’s a damn science project. Just pick up a slice and bite into it!”

By the time CJ came back to check on him, he had devoured half of the pizza.

“So?”

“It’s good.”

“Tell me you’ve never had mac ‘n cheese either.”

Lee shook his head.

“You’re warped.”

“Probably.”

“You got any brothers or sisters?”

“Two brothers.”

“Are they like you?”

“In what way?”

“In any way.”

Lee thought about that for a moment. “Probably just the pizza and mac ‘n cheese thing. Other than that, we’re quite different.”

If she only knew.

Later that evening, as he was driving home, Lee mused about the big loose snowflakes that had begun to fall from the night sky. It was an early snow, even by Wisconsin standards, the kind of snow he would liked to have played in as a child but was never allowed, something he had accepted at the time but now didn’t understand.

When he got home, Lee got out of the car, threw his head back, and opened his mouth to catch one flake after another on his tongue. Twenty-four hours earlier, he had believed he was almost grown-up. Premature thinking apparently. What had CJ said? The important thing was to be whole. As far as he was concerned, catching snowflakes in his mouth got him closer to that goal.

Someday, when the time was right, he would thank CJ for the wisdom she had imparted to him.

* * *

Stonebugger’s letter came three days later. He said he would approve the $50,000 withdrawal from the trust fund for the sole purpose of building a small house on the property, subject to his prior approval of the architectural plans, builder’s contract, budget, and schedule.

Stonebugger wasn’t about to let anything fall through the cracks—probably a good thing, Lee thought.
‘Cause I really don’t know what I’m doing here.

The snow that had begun falling the night before had stopped, and the sun was trying to peek out from behind low cloud cover. He decided to take a run out to the property while the early-winter weather still allowed it.

He reached the property mid-afternoon, and as he walked the mile and a half from the road to the stream in the northwest corner, he started a mental To Do list.

1. Remove NOS signs.

2. Install gate; create parking space inside.

3. Check personal bank account balance.

He gazed out over the acres of snow-covered terrain.
This is my property. My property. Not Mother and Father’s. Not Bennett’s or Nelson’s. It’s mine to do with as I please. Well...almost.

It wasn’t cold enough to freeze the shallow stream, the width of which had now been reduced to no more than fifteen feet due to the accumulation of snow on its banks. It had a nice bend to it. He pictured a small house on the outside of the deepest part of the bend. Nothing fancy. Exactly the opposite, in fact. He wondered if log cabins were allowed. Although Scrooge probably wouldn’t approve of that.

Lee headed toward the dense population of trees and brush in the northeast corner of the property. He walked into the wooded area for about a hundred feet before the brush made it difficult to navigate. Just when he thought about turning back, he saw a clearing ahead and trudged on.

The clearing took up three to four acres. Beyond it were more trees. He walked through it toward the edge of the property. A glint of sunlight reflecting off something in the distance—perhaps the metal of the fence—caught his attention.

Once through fifty feet or so of brush, he reached the fence and discovered a gate wide enough for a car. He opened it and entered the neighboring property, which had apparently been cleared in preparation for the next season’s crop. He surveyed the fence line down to the road until his eyes rested on his car, a mile or so away, the same path he had seen the sheriff drive down days earlier.

4. Put lock on gate.

Lee closed the gate and walked back through the clearing, glancing down at the ground that had been revealed in the snow by his footsteps. He reached down and pulled up a plant consisting of mostly just roots—a series of long, thin grayish strands of plant life. Illinois had a wide diversity of native grasses and herbaceous plants, and because of his education, Lee knew all of them and their root systems. But he didn’t recognize this one. He swished away the snow in a bigger area and uncovered even rows of the same species—clearly planted by someone at some point, and based on the clean cuts on the stems just above the ground, recently removed by someone.