Sand Mountain

©05 Levite

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9. Gone Fishing

      The construction of the buildings was ahead of schedule just like the site work had been. The metal frame of the main building was up and they were hanging the exterior wallboard on it. The living quarters was going great guns as well. The exterior was done and the electricians and other tradesmen were hard at work installing utilities.
      What I kept referring to as the housing unit was in reality a small three story hotel with all the amenities. Down in the partial basement, which looked like the ground floor if you came in from the old road, were a small swimming pool and gym, a study and small kitchen for use by the guests, and the laundry and the mechanical room for the housing unit. On the first floor were twenty two standard guest rooms, the offices for the housing manager, staff facilities, and so on. The second and third floor were pretty much all guest rooms of various sizes ranging through two room suites to the 'CEO' room on the end of the third floor with a spectacular view from three of its rooms. All in all we had eighty five guest rooms. Which would seem like a lot, but in reality, I was wondering if it was enough.
      During larger functions when we had around the clock staff on duty we would use maybe ten of the smaller rooms for them. There were times when I'd seen 'hot-bunking' for almost a week at a time where we'd have four or more workers sharing a room, sleeping in their off-shift in whatever bed was available, just to have coverage. We tried not to do that, usually limiting two staff to a room, but, there were always exceptions.

      Now that I was looking at this complex in the light that it was 'mine', my perspective was changing on some things.
      Mr. Salmon talked like he had thought this would be my last temporary assignment, but then his tone changed and he said that since I was sticking around I'd have to make sure I built the place the way I wanted it to be for good.
      "You gonna be a live-in manager?" He asked me.
      "I don't know. There's advantages and disadvantages both ways."
      "I know. Think about it. You're building staff quarters, it wouldn't take much to put in a nice apartment."
      "I'll have to think about that." I said.
      One of the keys to being a successful manager was to have a good staff under you that could think and act for themselves, and then to let them do it. If you had them coming to you for every little thing it wasn't long before they were calling you before they changed a burned out light bulb.
      That happened at one place. The manager was so 'hands on' the staff soon wasn't able to do anything without their consent. The center was soon falling apart and bookings were being canceled. The home office noticed and sent out an inspector to check out what was going on. For the first two days of their visit everything was normal and smooth. Then the inspector noticed a few things not getting done that should have been, minor stuff that would otherwise be routine, until one of the managers told an employee to do it. Then it was done immediately. The thing was, the routine chores should have been exactly that, routine chores.
      Once the manager was relieved of their duties and sent off for retraining things turned around in a matter of weeks. The good part of the story was that the manager was retrained, and was back on the job at that same center as assistant manager and was doing quite well.
      I hoped I had been around enough to know what to do and what not to do to manage a center. Especially staying out of the food service side of things. That was a nightmare all to itself and one reason we hired chefs with heavy management credentials and experience.
      One of the advantages to locating this center where we did was that the clients would be pretty much tied to the site for everything. It was also one of the disadvantages. There would be no 'running across the street for a snack at two in the morning' like there was in some urban settings. Hence the small kitchen in the housing unit. The plan was to stock it with microwave popcorn, cheese and crackers, a drink vending machine, and things like that. Just enough to meet the basic needs of the late night munchie crowd.
      We had designed the center's main building with two full commercial kitchens on the back of the building, each independent, but both able to work together for large functions. The smaller of the two would handle breakfast and normal lunches, the larger of them had the main baking operation and more room for more labor intensive preparation work for fancy full dress banquets. The 'set up' costs for doing it this way were very nearly outrageous, but it paid off in the long run when you didn't have two chefs at each other's throats because one was putting lunch out and the other was trying to start a fancy main course for that night's dinner.
      Built around the central main meeting area were several classroom size areas, a smaller meeting/banquet area, a few offices, a computer room, a nurse's office, and a few 'multi-purpose rooms' that usually ended up being storage elsewhere, but in this center, I had found a bonus. We were able to incorporate the original foundation hole from the old house into the plan and now my main building had a large open storage area in the basement.
      Many of the huge old foundation stones found their way into the atrium of the main building. Several of the smaller and prettier stones became part of the fountain, others had been worked into a garden area outside around the massive round boulder. One rather odd shaped more or less flat rock was now a bench. The builder had also managed to use enough of the antique wood from the chicken house to highlight certain features of the atrium to give the place a slightly rustic atmosphere that fit perfectly into the location.
      The smallest of the three buildings was in some ways the most important. It was the central office complex and the main maintenance facility. My office would be in there, as well as the program director and some of the other key staff. There was only one classroom type space that would be used to meet with the client's representative to schedule and plan everything from the welcoming reception to midnight breakfast on the last day and everything else for their function. Even though everything is outlined ahead of time, the company prided itself on being flexible enough to change nearly every aspect of the event to suit the client's needs, within reason.
      I looked around at the new buildings and marveled at the progress. There was a ton of work yet to do, but it wasn't all that long ago I was standing here with the realtor wondering how this place would ever become an executive retreat and meeting center.

      One of the things that kept my interest in every new development was the progress being made on the 'Confederate Bunker' as we called it.
      Most of the names on the roster had been identified and placed with other groups during the war itself. It seemed that many of the men had been mustered out of other units and sent home, only to turn up here sometime later. How active they were with this clandestine brigade was becoming a subject of debate in the academic circles. However it was clear that there were several soldiers that appeared to call our underground facility home.
      A small contingent of specialized workers were actively engaged in both preserving the rooms and halls as they were, while at the same time putting in modern necessities to facilitate their being visited by the public. The 'Colonel's room' with his writing desk was turning into a museum while the somewhat larger 'assembly room' as the ancient hand-drawn blueprint we had found called it, was going to be a research and lecture room.
      Most of the canned goods and other badly decayed things like that went to be recreated with plastic examples of the real items as they would have appeared in 1865. A couple of the real McCoy's were kept and encased in a shatterproof glass filled with an inert gas so everybody could see what a hundred years or so will do to hand canned tomatoes.
      The academic people were pouring over everything that had been recovered in the initial expedition, and the things that had turned up since. Like the cache of coins that brought the whole place to a standstill one day.
      One of the workers in the bunkroom had been removing some badly dry rotted boards when he uncovered a small niche cut back into the stone.
      "I didn't know what it was." He kept saying. "I thought maybe it was just another rotten board, so I pulled on it."
      When he pulled on the board, he found out it wasn't just a board. The side of the old wooden box came loose with a loud crack and the sound of falling coins that rivaled a good day in Las Vegas.
      "Just over three thousand coins. Gold, silver, and some others I'm not sure about." I told Mr. Salmon on the phone. "From everywhere, there's a couple on my desk that we think are Russian. We're still trying to identify some of them."
      They had cleaned the pile up and dug even more out of the niche. Then they hauled them all to the trailer where Dad Gilmore took over the babysitting of the collection of dirty and corroded change.
      Then it made its way to my office where we set to sorting coins from dirt and dead critters in a pan of warm water. I tried to keep a running tally of country and denomination, but soon that fell by the wayside for the most part. We knew better than to try to clean and polish the coins, so we only got enough gunk off of them to tell what they were. And that's when it got interesting.
      We had a lot of USA issued coinage from the Civil War period as the CSA never really minted coins. But there was also a good assortment of European coins, and some others that appeared to be from the Middle East and Asia.
      As with the Bunker itself, there was definitely a story to the stash of coins.
      A couple of days later the collection left for a rare coin dealer in Birmingham who would go through them and then get back to us with more information and an estimate of their value.
      I couldn't wait.

      Somewhere in the next week or so, between the roofing crew finishing up on the housing unit and starting on the main building I was invited to go fishing on the river with Alice's step father Harris Mason and Robby.
      It brought up several issues at once.
      If I was going to stay in Alabama, my Virginia driver's license would have to be changed. My apartment lease would have to be dealt with. My car would need new registration. And endless other details.
      Something I hadn't really thought of at all.
      "The apartment is no problem. Manny wants to move so we'll just get them to change your name to his." Mr. Salmon said after we'd gone through other business.
      "OK. Good."
      "So, when you coming up to get your stuff?"
      "Next weekend? Week after. Something like that."
      "Good. Have a good fishing trip." He kinda chuckled. "Meeting her old man too? You two must be getting serious."
      "We might be." I tried to change the subject. "Has Dr. Junie gotten back to you about the requirements for the display cabinets?"
      "Not yet. What kind of boat does he have?"
      "Robby said it's a big one, but that was about it."
      "Jon boat or bass boat or what?"
      "No idea sir. Just that it's a boat."
      "OK. Send me some pictures."
      "Yessir."

      I wasn't sure how my life had gotten so out of control.
      Up until a couple of weeks ago I had been a confirmed bachelor and had enjoyed my life of travel and new challenges. I had never been a playboy and never gone out on the town like some of the guys I worked with. But I wasn't a hermit either. I thought back to my last few jobs.
      Far from a lady's man that left a broken heart in every town on the circuit, I spent my time developing a good friendship or least a pleasant relationship with one woman at a time. On the last three I had met at least one interesting woman at each site, and had gone out with a couple of them.
      In Pennsylvania I'd spent quite a bit of time with the secretary at the real estate office we'd dealt with. She had a great apartment in a complex with a swimming pool and all the amenities. I'd gotten into the habit of meeting her bright and early in the morning and swimming laps with her before work. It was the most fun I'd ever had getting back into shape during the duration of the project. We were still friends and corresponded regularly about all sorts of things. She was dating the head chef at the center and I had even told her I had met Alice down here and she was happy for me.
      Patty in Vermont was a touchier subject. She had tried to use me to get on as program manager at the center and when that didn't happen, she tried to play my emotions against me. I almost fell for it, almost. But in the end I saw through it and when I asked her about what was going on, she broke down in tears and asked me if I hated her. Mr. Salmon said she had issues, and that was one of the reasons he had voted against hiring her. I think he was being polite.
      So my overall record with women was spotty at best. But so far, nothing really serious and long term had developed.
      And now there was Alice.
      Alice and Robby.
      There was no doubt about it. I was becoming as attached to the boy who fought wars on my back porch as I was to his mother.

      My decision for whom to hire as Program Director came down to two excellent candidates and one very good one. I decided to schedule interviews for all three and see who stood out.
      With resumes and calendar in hand I went to work to schedule all three of the interviews within a period of a day or two.
      Since all of them would be coming from out of town, obviously, I promised them all local accommodations of room and board.
      The best qualified candidate who was an assistant program director at an existing site, they could make it either of the open dates. The other two turned out to be more of a problem, but after a little juggling, everything came together a couple of weeks from now when we'd have a better idea of exactly when the center would open.
      All three would arrive within an hour of each other in Atlanta. I'd have a van waiting on them, and we'd go from there.

      Since we were building three structures at once, the crews could rotate between them as time and conditions allowed. Since that was the case, none of the workers had to wait long for something else to be done so they could finish their jobs on any one part of the project. And as a result the buildings changed and grew day by day and sometimes dramatic progress was made, as in the day the truss crew put the superstructure for the roofs of all three up in one day of hard work.
      The only thing that held up part of the work was when a crew couldn't run a trench for some conduit up the hill for the network and telephone service. Between the natural stone of the mountain and the competing electric service and plumbing lines, there just wasn't a straight shot to the main building left.
      "I've got an idea." Mr. Krendel said.
      The wire crew chief looked from him to me and shrugged. "Let's hear it."
      "Follow me." Mr. Krendel said and led us across the site to the entrance to the Bunker.
      I instantly knew what he had in mind. "Can we do this without disturbing the historical stuff?"
      "One way to find out." Mr. Krendel said.
      After we walked through and the engineer looked at the Confederate stuff that was left we decided about where the natural passage to the Colonel's room would be the closest to the main building. The engineer assured us he could bore through from the basement to the tunnel and when they got done, you'd never even know it was there.
      "You're sure. I don't want Doctor Junie coming in here and telling me we'd destroyed the most important part of a national treasure."
      Mr. Krendel agreed, "She may be a beautiful woman, but she can be really intense when it comes to this kind of stuff."
      "In that case. I'll make sure every speck of dust is back home when we're done." The chief said.

      They surveyed and measured and did some pinging with some sort of sensor and finally assured us and themselves that it could be done safely and with minimal interruption.
      They bored a four inch hole fifteen feet through a combination of limestone and sandstone in just over two hours. Then they fed a plastic conduit through it and sealed the shaft with liquid silicon to prevent moisture migration along the pipe.
      I inspected the results the next day.
      "Find it." The engineer said to me as we walked along the passage to the Colonel's room.
      I thought I knew where it had been put in. But as we walked along I looked up and down and didn't see a pipe. Then I noticed some rock that was a different color about knee high from the floor. I touched it and found out it wasn't stone.
      "Like it?" The engineer said as I pulled away the fiberglass cover that concealed a small excavated area where the conduit and its pull string came through.
      "I think it'll pass without notice."
      "We'll pull a cable through there, then bury it along the walkway to that first room. Then we'll take it out and run it to your com room in the office building."
      "That works."
      He nodded with pride as I put the cover back and it all but disappeared as part of the wall.

      Saturday morning way before sunrise I was waiting in front of the office for Mr. Mason and Robby to pick me up. In a few minutes a four wheel drive SUV pulled off the road and into the parking lot. Robby jumped out of the passenger seat and ran up to me.
      "Good Morning Mister Chet!" He shouted. "Let's Go!"
      I picked up my small kit bag with a few essentials in it and got into the front as Robby jumped into the back and slammed the door.
      "Good morning sir." I said to Mr. Mason.
      "Good morning Mr. Michels. Ready for a long day on the water?"
      "I think so sir." I said.
      "Good. We'll stop and get bait and some breakfast before we go out."
      I nodded as the serious looking gray haired man pulled out and drove south into what for me was virgin territory.
      We stopped at a store that promised gas, bait, hunting supplies, and fireworks. Then as an apparent afterthought they added 'hot food to go'.
      The breakfast sandwiches were hand made to order with fried eggs and sausage and cheese for me and Mr. Mason. Robby got bacon and cheese but said he didn't want any eggs. The coffee was strong and the bottles of orange juice were ice cold.
      Mr. Mason asked me if I'd drink a beer with him later and I nodded. He bought a six pack of an American beer and handed me couple different kinds of bait and told the clerk he wanted two dozen 'minnies' and a couple of bags of ice.
      Bait, beer, and breakfast in hand we went back out to the truck and headed for the boat.

      I had expected something along the line of Mr. Baker's bass boat. Mr. Baker worked closely with Mr. Salmon and they spent many weekends out on the James River and a couple of other local bodies of water on the boat. It was low and stable, basically a floating platform with mounted chairs, a depth sensor, trolling motor, live well and all the toys and gadgets you'd ever want or need.
      When we arrived at what Mr. Mason called 'the pullout' along the river the sun was just peeking above the mountain behind us. I helped Robby unload the ice chest and other supplies while Mr. Mason untied the fishing poles from the roof rack.
      We walked past several boats that had simply been drawn up on the bank and chained to trees and posts. Mr. Mason found his boat and we loaded everything into it.
      The boat was older and larger than I expected. It looked to be at least twelve feet long and maybe six feet across the widest part near the bow. There were three fishing chairs bolted to swivels mounted on the bench seats and a large motor on the transom. I didn't see a trolling motor or live well of any of the other equipment I expected.
      "Mr. Chet, can you tie me up?" Robby asked me holding out the strings to his life jacket.
      "Sure."
      Within a few minutes I was helping Mr. Mason push the boat out into the river.
      "What'cha likes to catch Mr. Michels?"
      "Please. Call me Chet."
      "Harris." The man answered as he cranked the motor to life.
      "I usually fish for whatever's biting that day."
      "Me too. We'll start with cats until the sun's up."
      In a minute the motor was roaring and smoking but sounded solid and powerful. The boat lurched and turned toward the middle of the river.
      We cruised upriver until Harris saw a cove he liked that didn't have another boat already in it. The boat slowed as we pulled out of the main channel then he stopped the motor and we coasted in. Then Harris hit a button on and a small electric winch lowered a large rusty anchor with a loud hum and a soft splash.
      "Now we can fish!" Robby said. He picked up a small but fully functional rod and reel and began putting the bobber he had been holding on the line.
      "You know it buddy." Harris answered the boy, then he looked at me. "You like bait casters or just a spinning reel?"
      "Doesn't matter. I've used both quite a bit."
      "Oh?" He handed me a serious bait casting reel on a thick six foot long pole. "Where'd ya fish up north?"
      I reached for a large treble hook in the open tackle box and put it on the wire leader that was already on the line. "Usually on one of the rivers. The James and the Potomac."
      "Ohh." He said. "You do any salt water fishin'?"
      "Some, but not as much as I wanted to."
      "That's always the case." He answered.
      For awhile we fished without talking. Then somebody would say something and we'd talk for awhile.
      We ate lunch as we motored to another spot about eleven o'clock. The sandwiches and chips seemed to taste a lot better out on the river than they would have at home.
      Finally about noon Harris asked me the question that I knew had been sitting on the tip of his tongue. "You and Alice have been getting' pretty serious. Ya'll thinkin' about the next step?"
      "We've mentioned it. But we both agree it's a little early."
      He nodded. "That's sensible." He checked the minnow on one of his lines and tossed it back out. "It's good ya'll's talked about it."
      And the discussion of my future with his stepdaughter was over for now.
      By early afternoon we had a 'good mess of fish' in the ice chest staying cold with the beer and the bait and it was time to go home.
      "Alice said she wanted some of the cats to cook for you. She's a good cook by God."
      "Yes sir she is." I agreed with him.
      "Robby's stayin' at our place tonight, so ya'll have a good dinner."
      I looked back at Harris as he guided the boat back up river toward the pull out. His face was just as serious as it had been all day, but his eyes were smiling.
      "Thank you sir. We will."

      We got the boat out and put everything in the truck and were back on the road just a few minutes after we got ashore.
      "You're good Mister Michels... Chet." Harris said.
      "Thank you sir."
      "Alice's last guy didn't want to get his hands dirty." He said with a frown.
      "I still work for a living most of the time."
      "So I've heard." He nodded. "Would ya mind helping me out on the farm in a couple weeks? We're gonna be tearing out a hedgerow."
      "No problem at all sir. Do you need me to bring a chainsaw or anything?"
      He shook his head, then thought about it and changed his mind. "If'n ya'll got one with a sharp chain that'd be a help."
      "Yes sir. Mister Mason."
      "Thanks." He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

      Now I had something else to think about. Who was Alice's 'last guy'?

      He dropped me off at the office with four channel catfish and my bag of supplies.
      My binoculars had been a hit with Robby as he used them to spy on other boats that had caught a fish so he could tell us what they'd caught. But nothing else I'd taken with me had been of much use at all. Mr. Mason had everything you'd ever want or need for fishing on a large river out and ready at hand at a moment's notice. Whether you hooked into a large gar and the best thing to do was to cut the line or there was a 'logfish' on your hook, both of which happened that morning, he had what we needed to deal with it right there ready to go.
      I was the one that caught the gar. Mr. Mason hooked a branch a little later. The gar he looked at closely, then decided it wasn't a record fish and cut the line. Me and Robby kidded him about having a record stick, but he had a sense of humor about it and said he didn't think it was even close. I held the branch and he got his hook back then he unhooked a nice lure and another line with a bobber on it that had also found the branch, then we let the stick sink back into the muddy water.

      Alice was already at the house expecting me and the fish. I'm not sure who she was happier to see.
      She looked at me suspiciously when I told her that I knew how to clean fish. But instead of describing to her how I had grown up as my family's 'designated fish cleaner', I simply demonstrated that talent and filleted the catfish as neatly and quickly as you could please. Soon four good sized channel cats were eight nice fillets and she was taking good care of them while I walked the rest of the fish parts out to a compost heap several of the neighbors shared near their gardens.
      When I walked back into the kitchen I was treated to the very nice smell and sound of frying catfish.
      Alice was wiping her hands off on a paper towel with a smile. "Papa said good things about you. I think he likes you."
      The expression on her face was so openly happy that I couldn't resist. I took her in my arms and kissed her without a second thought as to how she'd react.
      She reacted by putting her arms around me and kissing me back.

      I've decided that the fresh fish dinner we shared in the kitchen that night might just be the meal I have enjoyed the most in my entire life.
      We talked about our pasts, including other relationships and why we were both single now and so on. I found out that Robby's father wasn't anywhere around here and got the impression he was in Florida. Her 'last guy' turned out to be one of the teachers at the community college where she had been working and going to school until recently. They had evidently been very serious, but then things ended. Badly.
      And she was still bitter and upset about it.
      Alice started crying when she talked about how she felt he had used her, so I reached over and held her hand, then pulled her closer, and we ended up sitting face to face with her literally crying on my shoulder.
      "All of that's over with now. You're here with me." I said to her a couple of times.
      Then as her tears subsided she sat back and looked at me for a long time. We were still sitting with our chairs about half facing each other, holding hands with our right knees just touching between us.
      "I want to tell you something. But I can't... I'm afraid of what you might say." She said after the room got too quiet.
      "I won't say anything until after you've said whatever you want to say then I'll only say something if you want me to say it." I said. Then I had to replay that in my mind to make sure it came out right.
      She smiled. "Just let me say it then you can think about it if you want to. You don't have to answer me."
      I already knew what she was going to say. And when she said it, it actually made me feel relieved. Then I knew I wasn't the only one.
      "I've fallen in love with you Chet."

10. Yes sir, Governor.

      The work at the site had changed from big decisions on large scale issues to smaller issues and more refined details and was now changing again into minutia. Some of the things would have to wait until the Program Manager had been officially hired. Mr. Krendel, as the newly minted Assistant General Manager could and did handle a lot of the things, like what color light switches did we want in the classrooms because it had been left off on a plan someplace, but others were solely up to me.
      The good thing was that some matters required me to drive up to the site, which was also a bad thing because of the time required in getting there and back. Sometimes driving from the office to the site, then back to the office, only to turn around and go back to the site, and so on, was all I did for the morning.

      And then the lights came on.
      We had had limited electric service at the site for several weeks from a panel bolted to a pole at the end of the service run. Temporary wires and cords were strung here and there like multi-colored vines. And occasionally, something would draw a little too much juice and part of the site would go dark and still.
      Since then there had been machines and their crews crawling around the site and down the mountain digging runs and burying cables of all descriptions. And today was the payoff.
      I was up there when Walt threw the big switch and the lights in the three buildings came on for keeps. There was much cheering and congratulating from us and the crews and several of us joked about how now that that was done, we could all go home.
      But that brief celebration also signaled the fact that the real work was about to begin.
      With power came full water pressure. With that we came to the testing and certification of water supply's quality and the sanitation side of things.

      Down the hill from the old chicken coop was our own private automated water treatment plant. It was supposed to be a model of innovation and development in small scale industrial wastewater processing.
      I had my doubts. But two days after the power came on the technicians from the manufacturer and our plumbing crew ran a long term high volume test on it and it passed. The next day, the health and public works departments signed off on the certification of both the water supply and the sanitary facilities.

      There was a little backtracking on some things and juggling of others. But progress was steady and we remained about two or three weeks ahead of schedule.

      Then the Civil War matter came to a head.
      Big time.

      I dialed Mr. Salmon's number and waited until I could speak directly to him.
      "The only message I got was that this coming Tuesday Morning the Governor of the State of Alabama, the Honorable Clement Richter, and some others of that caliber would be coming by here to inspect our discovery of a 'Rebellion History Site'."
      He chuckled softly. "What took them so long?"
      "I don't know. I expected it way before now. But I didn't expect the governor to be coming. The most we've seen from the state was a guy from historical affairs office or something that kept talking about some forms I had to fill out. He said he'd send them to me. I haven't seen anything."
      "Must be some political angle the gov's working. In any case, I'll be there no later than Sunday and help you with it."
      "Thank you sir."
      "Did you see the latest from Dr. Junie?"
      "Yes sir. And the first of the display cases have arrived and been installed. They're really something."
      He snorted. "They should be for what they cost."
      "Let me call Marilyn. We'll set up something real nice for His Honor."
      "Thank you sir."

      Once word got out that the Governor was coming to our site to see our bunker the office got so busy that we asked Alice to help out answering phones and dealing with people that stopped by to get the low down on the big deal.
      At least that was what Ed Bryant said when he came by the office.
      Mrs. Krendel introduced him as the Mayor of Bryant, but the first thing he did was to correct her.
      "We don't have an actual mayor mayor like ya'll's used to up in the big cities. Mr. Michels." He smiled humbly. "Most of what I do is sit in on County Commission meetings."
      "If you do the job, I've got no problem giving you the title sir." I said and stuck out my hand. We shook and I indicated the chair next to my desk.
      "Well, Mister Michels..."
      "Please. Call me Chet."
      "Thank you sir." He smiled and nodded. "This may be the biggest thing to ever happen in Bryant. Some of us think those in Montgomery sometimes forget we're here."
      I nodded to him. "I understand that. But what can I do for you?"
      Mr. Bryant had a plan.
      I called Mr. Salmon and we had a nice little conference. Mr. Salmon had somebody from the corporate office call somebody in the Governor's office. Then in about an hour while me and Mr. Bryant drank coffee and talked about his two cousins that had been working for me on the site crew, Mr. Salmon called me back.
      "It's all arranged. The Governor will come into the Community Center there in town, then after a short presentation for the TV cameras, we'll all go up to the site and see the bunker."
      "That's wonderful sir." Mr. Bryant said to the speakerphone.
      "Yes sir Mister Mayor. The company loves good publicity like this. Besides, this way we've got the Governor on the hook for the grand opening too. Somebody in our office talked his office into scheduling one of our first available weekend retreats for them."
      "Oh joy." I said.
      "Ahhh. It'll be great." Mr. Salmon said and I rolled my eyes.
      Mr. Bryant was looking at me oddly.
      "Ranking politicians are some of the worst customers you can have." I said with a sour expression on my face.
      "Oh."

      But now the amount of work seemed to triple.
      Besides preparations with the town officials and dignitaries, such as they were, and making all the connections we had to make. There was a continuous stream of calls from TV stations and newspapers, most wanting directions to Bryant because they couldn't find it on their maps or something.
      "No sir. We don't have a heliport either." I said to a guy from an Atlanta cable TV network.
      The impression I was getting that it didn't matter at all that the Governor was coming, what they wanted to see was the 'great piles of Confederate GOLD!' we had supposedly discovered.
      I told everybody I could that the only actual gold we had discovered was a few coins, but I don't think any of them believed me.

      Then the security problems started at the site.
      We had installed and activated a top of the line security system on the buildings, and especially on the bunker. And it had been going off regularly. Which had enabled us to provide the sheriff's office with some video tape of some people who evidently had not gotten the message that all the items of any real value had been shipped out. They insisted on trying to get through the new metal doors which had been set in freshly poured concrete frames.
      Some of the video was rather comical.
      The fight Jimbo and Pauly got into with three guys who had it in their heads they could make off with a whole truckload of stuff wasn't.

      I got the call at about two in the morning from Deputy Collins. He said my men were all right and they had two of the suspects in custody and they were looking for the third, but he thought it best if I go up to the site to help with the investigation. I thanked him for the call and hung up.
      No sooner had I blinked twice than Mr. Krendel was calling me.
      "I'm on my way up there. You want me to pick you up?" He asked me.
      "Yes sir. But give me a few minutes to get moving."
      "Yes sir. I'll stop and get some coffee."
      "Two. Big ones."
      "Yes sir."

      Ten minutes later I was watching Mr. Krendel's truck come up the road from the end of my front yard. He pulled into my drive and I got in next to a bleary eyed Walt who handed me a huge cup of steaming coffee that smelled very strong.
      There were a couple of sheriff's vehicles and a state police car sitting in the new parking lot under the newly installed and working lights.
      I could see one guy in the back of one of the cop cars who looked like he was trying to look mean and tough, but was really only succeeding in looking about half scared.
      "Morning Dan." One of the deputies said to Mr. Krendel.
      "Morning. Johnny, what happened?"
      "The usual I'm afraid to say." He looked at me and Walt. "Morning sir. Wally."
      "Hi ya Johnny." Walt answered.
      "Good morning Johnny." I nodded to the man.
      For the time being we were still using the trailer as the site office, and the security cameras fed into it.
      The rack of state of the art equipment looked slightly out of place next to the propane cook stove and the nearly antique black and white TV that would get two and a half UHF stations on a good day and maybe twice that at night. But it all worked. And the security system worked good enough that it had a clear picture of the license number of the truck the would be thieves had driven up the mountain. As well as some very good pictures of the suspects full face on into the camera that looked all the world like a regular peep hole in the doors.
      Jimbo had played with the system every night since it had been installed. Primarily he had been using it to take night vision pictures of deer that had been using our new driveway as a path to the creek to drink. But now he had printed out high quality images of the suspects, their truck, and a nice shot of them putting some tools into the back of the pickup.
      "That's Junior." Walt said as Jimbo brought up a picture of the missing suspect.
      I agreed the picture looked familiar as one of the guys that had worked for a week or so toward the end of the site preparation work.
      "Sure is." Mr. Krendel said. "Junior Watson."
      "We thought so but we wanted to check. He did work for you right?"
      "Yes sir, but he got fired a couple of weeks ago for not showing up regular."
      "His file's right here." I said to the deputy. I went to the box with a copy of the worker's records and went through it until I found the folder with the name on it and gave it to the deputy. "Name, home address, his mom's phone number. It all checked out or he wouldn't have been hired."
      The deputy looked at it. "Can I keep this?"
      "Yes sir. We've got a copy at the office."
      "Thanks."
      The deputy took the paper out to one of the patrol cars and showed it to the guy that I had noticed when we got there.
      I stood in the door of the trailer behind Mr. Krendel and watched. In less than a minute the deputy came back to the trailer smiling.
      "Junior's been staying with Cleta." He said.
      Walt looked at me. "Cleta's one of the…" He made a face and tried to think of a word that wouldn't offend his father in law and his boss. "… friendlier… women around here, she lives down by the bridge."
      Deputy Johnny wasn't worried about offending anybody. "She used to be a hooker and is still all into drugs and stuff. We'll watch her place." He went out to use the radio in his car.
      By nine o'clock that morning Junior and his truck with the missing tools were enjoying the hospitality of the Jackson County authorities awaiting transfer to the tender mercies of the State of Alabama since violating, or even the attempt to violate a State Historic Site is a much more serious offense. And since all three of them had a criminal record going back many years, they weren't likely to be let off because they were otherwise model citizens.

      I blinked at the phone.
      It had been a long day and it wasn't even noon yet.
      I answered it on the fourth ring.
      The newspaper in Huntsville wanted a statement about both the attempted break in and the visit by the Governor to the site. I rattled off the press release from the corporate office about the Governor's and the company's partnership in the economic revitalization of the area. Then I gave them the canned response we had for almost any criminal incident at a site.
      The reporter seemed content and hung up.

      Alice couldn't stop talking about the Governor all weekend.
      Mr. Salmon came in early Saturday morning and seemed about to pop from pride.
      The pastor mentioned the coming visit during the Sunday service.
      Monday was spent cleaning and polishing buildings that weren't finished. The Bunker was only about half complete, but what was there was tuned up in fine fashion.
      Dr. Junie and her people arrived just before noon and got to work putting what they could together for the big day.

      Monday afternoon a big car pulled up in front of the office.
      "Mr. Michels?" Mrs. Krendel said from my office door. I looked up. "This is Margaret Leamur, she's from the State."
      I stood up and tried not to look absolutely worn out by the whole thing. "A pleasure ma'am. Please, come in."
      The lady walked in and shook my hand. "I'm the Assistant to the Director of the Historical Sites Office at the Alabama Historical Commission."
      "Congratulations." I said. "What can I do for you ma'am?"
      "This site is potentially a very important link in the history of Alabama during the War between the States period. I would like to inspect it first hand before Governor Richter arrives tomorrow."
      I got the impression that she enjoyed making speeches. "Yes ma'am. Let's go."
      She stood there for a second, then nodded.
      Mrs. Krendel smiled at her. "You see, I told you he didn't need any encouragement at all to get out of the office."
      "So I see. Thank you."

      Mrs. Leamur was quite impressed with our conversion of the old homestead and the reuse of as much of the existing wood and stone as possible.
      During our tour of the Bunker we had a long detailed discussion about the historic documents and other items, going heavily into their conservation and display for both the public and access to them by scholars and researchers.
      But the impression I got from the government woman was she saw the bunker and its contents at little more than a curiosity, as she put it 'a footnote to the time after the war'.
      "I disagree." Dr. Junie said. "This material may be the single most important discovery of war related material in half a century. We have names, dates, equipment manifests, orders and even a map of other units like this one all over this part of the country."
      "But when they told me about the coins..."
      Dr. Junie interrupted her. "The coins are only part of the story. A small part. Look here." She opened a box and took out one of the Colonel's papers, now sealed in unbreakable glass. "This is a hand written order from one Colonel Samuels to a field unit. They were making plans to seize a trestle over the river and hijack a supply train. The date of the letter is..." She held it out for Mrs. Leamur.
      "February... 1866? That's nearly a year after the surrender."
      "Yes ma'am." Dr. Junie said. "It proves that the underground..." She looked around at the bunker. "In this case, literally underground, resistance was well organized, fairly well supplied and operating for some time after the official surrender as military outfits on a far greater scale than anyone was aware of." She pulled out several more protected documents. "These letters represent a small amount of the correspondence between Colonel Samuels and other units as far away as Front Royal and Winchester, Virginia, and several in Texas."
      "Did they ever actually attack anything?" I asked.
      "Yes. Nothing as spectacular as the planned train robbery. But there were incidents. Some of them are mentioned in the letters and are collaborated in outside sources."
      Mrs. Leamur was overwhelmed. She was reading one of the letters with a very serious expression on her face. "I had no idea."

      Mr. Salmon was absolutely thrilled. It took me a few minutes, but then I began to feel better about all of it as well.

      When the Governor showed up Tuesday morning the entire tone of the event at the Community Center had changed.
      Now instead of something that I felt had been planned to be patronizing and falsely grandiose it was a major announcement of a truly impressive historical find to a packed house and full press conference with several complete news teams in attendance.
      Governor Richter spoke briefly about how important it was that the business world recognize the importance of historical sites like this one, and to get those best qualified to evaluate and preserve fragile pieces of the nation's heritage. Then he stepped aside so that the others could explain what had been found.
      The 'coin collection' was barely mentioned. Instead the Executive Director of the Historic Commission talked at length about how this was a unique insight into the lives of those that had not accepted the failure of the Confederacy and their willingness to risk their lives to continue the rebellion.
      "If Colonel Samuels had been discovered, he would have been hung after little more than a drumhead show trial." She said to emphasize the dedication the Rebels had to their cause.
      Dr. Junie was introduced as the lead investigator. She described the papers and artifacts that we had discovered. She went into their excellent condition and described the steps that had been taken to preserve them. Then she too described the overall importance of the find to the understanding of the war and its aftermath in the entire history of the country instead of just the few years studied in high school history class.
      Then Mr. Salmon spoke about how the company was taking its duty as guardian of the site and its contents very seriously and went into some of the details of the financial investment made into the Bunker and how it would be available to the general public to visit. "And we are working to establish a suite of rooms in the center's housing unit for researchers to use during their studies at little or no cost to them."
      Dr. Junie started the applause to that remark. She was evidently making plans for some extensive use of the rooms.
      Then it was my turn.
      "Hello. I'm the manager of the local conference center. I'll be living here in Bryant, and I now appreciate how much our center will mean to the economic well being of this area and how important a bona fide historic site like we've found ourselves with as well. We've uncovered a piece of the past here. And we intend to take as good of care of it as we possibly can."
      As soon as I paused one of the reporters raised their hand. I looked over at Mr. Salmon and he nodded to the man.
      "John Alexander, the Huntsville Courier. Just how many long term jobs will your center create?"
      I answered it. "We've plans hire a full time staff of about twenty, but during full operating times we may employ fifty or more part time people. But those part time people will be called back as we need them for events."
      There was another question.
      "Thank you sir. Beverly Santos, American Morning Radio News. Is there any evidence of the holding and maltreatment of slaves at the site?"
      I didn't even want to try that one. I looked at Dr. Junie. She stepped to the platform and shook her head.
      "There was very little evidence of any domestic use past the storm cellar on the south end of the bunker and the pantry to the north. From our examination of the Confederate facility it was entirely a military operation with little or no African slave involvement. Which would make sense since after the surrender any such activity would put the entire unit at risk. All it would take was one word to a Union officer and the entire property would have been seized."
      "How about the property as a whole?" The radio reporter asked as a follow up.
      "The main house had burned down some fifty years ago. The only standing out buildings we found was an old chicken coop and things like that. There were no slave quarters or anything else that we've been able to identify. It is likely that the farm that was here at that time was too small to use outside slave labor, as were most of the working farms in northern Alabama at that time. If they had a cook or somebody in the house, we may never know for sure."
      She wasn't satisfied, but she let it go.
      "One more question." The Governor's aid said to the audience.
      "Yes sir." She nodded to one of the TV reporters.
      "Jeff Greene, Cable 6 news. How much assistance did the State or the County give to the company for this development in either up front cash or tax abatement down the road?"
      Mr. Salmon stepped forward and said he'd answer that one and if the Governor agreed he could back him up. He held up his hand in the 'goose egg' gesture. "Zero."
      "Sir?" The reporter didn't get it.
      "They waived the property taxes for the duration of the construction for us. Other than that, nothing. Our company neither seeks nor requires assistance to build our centers. That can give an impression to some political bodies that they can then come in and tell us how to run our business or what kind of retreats we can run for which clients. I'll run the center and Governor Richter can run the good state of Alabama and neither of us will meddle in the other's affairs."
      "Thank you Mister Salmon." The Governor said. "That's right. The state did nothing more for them than approve an extended temporary business permit until they get an actual mailing address for the new facility. As for actual cash assistance to build in Alabama." He grinned and made the zero sign with his hand and chuckled. "They told me about the address this morning. It seems somebody forgot to tell the post office they are out there."
      There were a few laughs.
      The aid spoke with authority. "On that subject. We will reconvene at the site in one hour. Directions and instructions are available from my people. Those of you desiring a ride out there please see Mr. Michels. I'm told it is not someplace you want to take a car with low ground clearance as the new road isn't finished yet. Thank you for your attention."

      Governor Richter was fascinated by the Bunker. He asked very specific questions about the military unit and demonstrated a good working knowledge of some of the major individual figures in the War and some of the Alabama units in particular.
      He was totally fascinated by the Confederate money and told an amusing story about a safety deposit box that had belonged to his maternal grandfather.
      "The old boy was convinced that someday the money would be worth its face value again and horded it. If he could know that about ten years ago we sold two of the bills at auction for about ten times the total face value of everything in the box I think he'd start the War all over again."
      "The bills must have been in very good condition." Mr. Salmon said.
      "Mint." The Governor said. "Bright colors, no damage around the edges. He'd kept them pressed in a family Bible for ages. Then they put them in the box in sealed envelopes. Over two thousand dollars of Confederate money in several denominations."
      Dr. Junie's eyes were shining. "Where are the rest of those bills? Are they being taken care of?"
      The Governor grinned some more. "They're in the vault at the State Archive building."
      "Good."

      The Governor inspected the coin and firearm displays, then he turned his attention to the desk and some of the Colonel's papers.
      "This is absolutely remarkable." He said reading the script on one of the pages of the open journal. "Absolutely remarkable."
      "Governor. We need to be getting back outside."
      "Yes. Of course." He turned toward me. "Mister Michels. When your center opens and we come up here for our conference, I want to spend some time down here. This is just..." He looked around at the room and nodded at the exact replica of the battle flag that had been in the corner, the original was in a hermetically sealed box awaiting display. "Just remarkable."
      "Yes sir, it is, Governor."

11. Road Trip

      There was no way around it. I had to go back to Virginia and clean out my apartment.
      I had put it off for over a month longer than I should have. I knew without a doubt my plants would all be dead, the laundry I had forgotten in the hamper would probably have to be thrown out, and the fridge was probably sprouting some exotic forms of life.
      The company would pay the movers, but it was up to me to decide what to move, and more importantly, what not to. And I had to clean up my own messes.
      I didn't ask Alice to come with me at all. In fact, I was ashamed to. But she volunteered and when I tried to talk her out of it she seemed so hurt by it that I immediately relented and we began making plans for the trip.

      Thursday morning we got the news that one of the would-be Confederate Gold thieves had gotten religion after he had found out his latest stunt would not only violate his probation, but make him a career criminal under the habitual offender statute and put him away for at least twenty years without any chance of early release. He began telling stories and drawing maps that led the local officers and even the police in Tennessee to stashes of stolen goods ranging from cars to a pay telephone. Several other people involved in what turned out to be a multi-state ring were now behind bars thanks to his six hour confession. The deal he cut with the state would reduce his outstanding charges to misdemeanors and he would go back to jail to finish his current sentence and whatever new time he drew for his latest escapade, but he avoided the habitual stint.
      His cohorts were still fighting their charges and saying they were innocent, but with the new evidence, they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.
      It was good news.

      Me and Alice left bright and early on Saturday and drove straight through to the apartment complex I had called home for so long. But now, it looked foreign to me and I couldn't imagine ever moving back here.
      "It's a nice place." Alice said looking around at the pool and tennis courts and the giant playground beyond.
      "Yeah. It was." I said. It had been. But now it wasn't 'home'.
      We went upstairs to my apartment.
      "I know it's going to need aired out." I said as I turned the key. "It's been sealed up for a long time."
      "That's why I brought these." She held up the bag with several air fresheners and some other cleaning products.
      The place smelled musty and stale, but it wasn't the reek I had expected. I walked straight to the sliding glass door and opened it, and then I pushed open the dining room window and turned on the ceiling fans.
      Once before when I'd been out on a job for an extended period of time I had forgotten about some food in both the sink and the trash can. Let's just say that it hadn't gone unnoticed by ants, and then the neighbors. The complex's maintenance crew came in, cleaned it up, and left me a bill for services rendered. When I got back there was a long rather heated letter from the management company about making sure my apartment was clean before I left on a business trip.
      After that I checked both the sink and the trash before I left every time.

      I had expected the stuff in the hamper to be rotten, however, there wasn't anything in the hamper. I had washed the load and dried it, and then left it in the basket on the couch the night before I left for Alabama. But everything that morning had been so rushed I didn't remember doing it.
      "Oh my."
      I recognized that 'oh my' and went to the kitchen.
      "I think everything in here is bad." Alice said to me dropping things into the trash can.
      "Yeah." I said as I got a whiff of something that had turned the corner. "Let me do this. It really smells bad."
      "I'll do this, you need to start packing your things. Remember, the movers will be here first thing Monday morning."
      I looked over at the collection of flattened empty boxes and nodded. "OK."
      The conversation we had had about my possessions replayed in my head. I had wanted to sort it out here and move only what I wanted or needed. She talked me into moving everything, then slowly weeding out the stuff I could live without instead of rushing through and making mistakes that I might not ever be able to correct.
      "Besides." She told me. "It'd be a lot more fun having a rummage sale back home than here."
      "Yeah." I had to agree.
      She closed the freezer with a look on her face I couldn't read until she shook her head and then smiled. A sure sign that she'd had an idea.
      "You know what this means." Alice said with a grin. I shook my head. "You'll have to take me out to dinner to one of those restaurants you've been telling me about. There's nothing here I'd feed to the dogs."
      "I'd love to take you out." I smiled to her and went into the living room.
      "Should I dress up for it?"
      "It's a pretty fancy place."
      She stepped around the corner and smiled back at me. "I've never been to a really fancy restaurant."
      I kissed her forehead. "You will tonight."
      For the first time in a long time my cel phone didn't say 'roaming' on it. I brought up my contact list and called my favorite restaurant.
      "Yes sir Mister Michels." The assistant manager said when I explained what I wanted. "It will be a very special night." He promised me the corner table with the view of the city and the Potomac beyond and the best meal they could put on a plate.
      But then I had to unfold my first box and tape the bottom up and then start filling it with 'stuff'. It was an act that seemed to signify the fact that I really was moving. And moving into a whole new life.
      The movers would handle most of the stuff. But my personal effects were my problem, and as I closed up my third full box I wondered how I had accumulated so much 'personal' stuff.
      With an hour before our reservations Alice banned me from the master bedroom and began getting ready for what we began calling 'our date'.
      When she came out, she looked spectacular.

      "Good evening Mister Michels. It has been some time. Is this the lady that's taken you away from us?" Boz the Maitre de asked as we walked into the restaurant on top of one of the taller office buildings in town.
      "Yes sir."
      His smile was almost as slick as his hair. "Will anybody else be joining you tonight, sir?"
      "I don't think so sir."
      "Very well. Your table is ready. Please." He bowed to us and led us through the dining room.
      Our table was somewhat secluded and very romantic.
      The first thing Alice did after we were seated was to take in the view.
      "Is that the Capitol?" Alice whispered to me.
      "Yes ma'am. And the Washington Monument." I indicated the obelisk a little to the left. "We can drive through town and see them."
      "Can we do that tomorrow? Today's been something else already."
      I realized that we had driven all morning, and then worked all afternoon.
      "Sure. How about tomorrow morning when there's no traffic."
      "Oh, that'd be nice." She said.
      We sat quietly for a few minutes, and then one of our servers came to the table for our drink orders.
      "I don't know." Alice said when he asked what she preferred.
      "Do you like wine?" I asked her.
      "A little. Sometimes."
      I asked the server if they had some of the lighter red wines.
      "We have a local White Zinfandel that many ladies appreciate, and a Red Blush that I think is very good." He nodded. "Both are made here in Virginia."
      "We'll both have a glass of the White Zinfandel."
      "Very good sir."
      He was back with our wine in just a couple of minutes.
      Alice was still taking it all in, now she was looking around the restaurant. "I've never been in anyplace this fancy."
      I smiled. "This is where we bring all the big shots from the companies that set up retreats at our sites. Some of them book five or six million dollars worth of seminars and conferences at one time. So our home office staff takes them out for a good dinner."
      "But the maitre de knew you by name."
      "He should, it was my job to make the reservations here for the office for about two years."
      She smiled. "I thought you were just their best customer."
      I shook my head. "This is the first time I've ever been here when I have to pay for the dinner." I looked around. "I love this place and the food is fantastic, but I really couldn't afford it otherwise."
      Her smile was so warm and affectionate I knew I'd made the right choice with her and the restaurant. "But you said this was your favorite place." She said.
      "It is. I just can't afford to eat here."
      She laughed.

      After a few more minutes one of the food servers I knew came by for our order. He greeted me warmly then went into the offerings for tonight.
      "Veal or seafood?" I asked Alice after he stopped and waited.
      "Seafood please." She said still smiling.
      I ordered us one of the house specialty crab and shrimp dishes with braised vegetables.
      The server nodded with a grin and went on his way.
      "I was going to ask for a menu, then I realized they might not have them." She said.
      "I did the same thing the first time I came here with a client. But they do have menus if you ask for one."
      The dessert cart rolled by. Alice's eyes lit up. "Oh my."
      "You have to eat all of your dinner to have dessert."
      "That all looked so rich."
      "It is." I laughed. "That chocolate cake thing with all the swirls on it will hurt you."
      She grinned. "I have to try it." I began to say something and she added, "I'll eat all my dinner first."

      Our server came back in a few minutes bearing a sampler plate of appetizers and more wine.
      "I didn't..." I began to say only to stop as he bowed deeply.
      "With the house's compliments sir. We are most sorry to see you go. We wish you and the lady all happiness. Mister Bozithain will be by to extend his regards shortly."
      "Tell Boz thank you for me." I said.
      "And from me as well." Alice smiled to him.
      The server bowed again and walked away.
      But then I had to try to identify some of the things on the red hot ceramic plate. A bouquet of food surrounded three small containers of sauces. Huge butterfly shrimp stuffed with some sort of mushroom mixture, some fish that had been skewered on small bamboo sticks and roasted with almonds, what appeared to be squid that had been stewed in garlic, and a couple of other things that defied description but looked and smelled delicious.
      "This is wonderful." Alice said after trying one of the shrimp.
      "Yes." I said as my eyes watered. "But that sauce will make you cry."
      She didn't want any part of the squid, so I let her have the last of the shrimp. But with every bite she was praising the food more and more.
      "Thank you ma'am." Boz said walking silently up to our table. "I'll tell the chef you are greatly enjoying it."
      "This is all very good. Thanks." I said to him.
      "My pleasure sir." He bowed slightly. "So where are you moving too?"
      "Alabama." I said.
      That took him by surprise. "They have such beautiful and charming young ladies in Alabama?"
      "They did. She's mine."
      "You have excellent taste Mr. Michels. In both dinner choices and dining companions."
      "Thank you." Alice said with a slight blush.
      I grinned at him and thanked him again.
      "Please. If you are ever in the area at least stop by for a drink." Boz said.
      "We will."
      "Your dinners should be out shortly. Enjoy."
      "We will thank you." I said.
      "Yes. Thank you." Alice said to him.
      He bowed again and walked away.

      We hadn't finished the appetizers when two fine china plates arrived with a four star array of food on them.
      "Oh my." Alice said after taking a small bite of what appeared at first glance to be a simple casserole.
      "It should melt in your mouth." I said remembering it from the last time I had been there.
      "It does." She tried another bite. "It is almost too good."
      We talked about nothing in particular and took our time eating.
      After what seemed like an hour the server came by and asked if we'd like to see the desserts.
      "Oh no. I know what I want." Alice said with a grin.
      "Very well ma'am."
      "That chocolate cake with the curls of chocolate on it."
      The server said something in French that I had heard before but couldn't pronounce on a bet. "Very good ma'am."
      I begged off dessert saying I'd rather finish the appetizers.
      "Yes sir."
      "You have to try a bite of the cake."
      "I will."
      While we waited for dessert we talked about what to do when over the weekend. I wanted to take her to see some of the sites in DC, but we still had a lot to do around the apartment, and sometime I had to get into the office and clean out my desk.
      Then the subject of tonight came up.
      "I've only got one bed." I said picking almonds off the last piece of fish. "I could sleep on the couch."
      "No." She said.
      I looked up.
      She was staring into my eyes with what could only be called true love.
      "We'll think of something." I whispered.
      She smiled.

      The chocolate explosion cake was very, very rich.

12. Moving and touring and moving and touring.

      Sunday morning we went out to breakfast. Then we drove into the District and saw what we could see. We stopped at the Air and Space Museum and bought Robby a souvenir or three, then we headed back to my apartment and began phase two of the packing and cleaning.
      According to my lease, if I left the apartment in 'move in' condition, except for what amounted to 'wear from normal usage' I could not only get my damage deposit back, they would pay me a bonus that could equal my deposit. The only thing that was exempt was painting the walls if you'd been there more than two years. They did that automatically.
      Alice considered it a challenge.
      I told her that nobody I had ever talked to in five or six years in the complex had ever gotten more than about a hundred dollars as a cleaning bonus.
      "If we get more than that you'll have to take me out to dinner again." She said with that smile and light in her eyes that I had fallen in love with.
      "It's a bet."
      "And you have to work hard too."
      "If it'll pay for another dinner with you, I'll paint the place myself."
      "I love you." She said and kissed me.
      Then she tore the refrigerator apart and began scrubbing the drawers in the sink.
      The bathroom was mine. I cleaned and scrubbed and then wiped it all down and ended up polishing the sink faucet with an old toothbrush I found in the vanity cabinet.
      "Well. Mister Michels. I didn't believe it so I had to come see."
      The voice was familiar but I had to see the face to get the name. I stood up and stretched my back, then I turned around. "Hello Tasha."
      "You're girlfriend told me you were cleaning the bathroom for us. I didn't believe it."
      "Yes ma'am."
      She looked over the sink and tub with the practiced eye of somebody who had been a part time property manager for a large apartment complex for a couple of years, which, she had. "Very impressive."
      "How impressive?"
      "I can't say how much bonus you'll get, but it looks like you'll get all of your damage deposit back, and probably some extra too."
      "...probably..." I said with no emotion.
      She smiled. "I'm certain you'll earn quite a bit." She looked at the bathroom. "More if you get the streaks off the mirror."
      I looked at the glass. "I'll do that."
      "Now I want to go talk to Alice again. She seems like a wonderful woman." Tasha laughed to herself. "I think she's too good for you."
      "She probably is. But I'm going to keep her anyway."

      Half an hour later when I went to check on Alice, her and Tasha were sitting at the kitchen table talking about Bar Be Que.
      "We're done talking about you." Alice said.
      "It didn't take long." Tasha grinned.
      "Oh. Thanks."
      "Have you ever been to the Castle?"
      "George Castle's." Tasha added.
      "Yeah. It's great."
      "Can we go there for lunch?" Alice said nodding to the clock. It said just after noon.
      "Sure, but they deliver."
      "Take the woman out to lunch." Tasha told me.
      "Yes ma'am."

      That afternoon we did some more sight-seeing, and the final packing so that Monday morning when we heard the mover's truck in the parking lot there wasn't enough left unpacked in the apartment to talk about.
      Tasha did a quick walkthrough of the apartment as the movers carried furniture out and pronounced it as one of the best she'd ever seen.
      "Thank you ma'am." Alice said.
      "No, thank you." She looked around one last time. "I can get the painters in here in the morning. I don't think anything else needs done."
      "The carpet will need cleaned after this." Alice looked at the dirty boots of one of the movers as he carried out the entertainment center.
      "That's part of the normal procedure for anybody that's been in over a year." She nodded. "I'll see if they'll go for about 85% of the maximum. I know they'll never go for one hundred. Seventy- five percent is the most I've ever got out of them."
      "Who got that?" I asked.
      "Mrs. O'Gerry. Remember the old widow lady over in 1010?"
      "Oh yeah." I nodded. "She spent most of her time tending the flowers around the buildings and the community center."
      "She had a twenty year old blind cat that wouldn't come out of her bedroom. When it finally died, she moved into a home."
      "That's so sad." Alice said.
      "No its not. She turned the home upside down. Because of her they amended their house rules to allow residents to use gardening tools. Now they win awards for horticulture from the garden club. Even some of the old people in wheelchairs get out there and help weed and stuff. She gave some of them a reason to live."
      Alice smiled and laughed.

      The last of my worldly goods were on the truck by nine AM. Me and Alice did a quick walkthrough of the empty rooms and found only a few forgotten items on closet shelves or under the counter. All of them went into the trash.
      I surrendered my keys to Tasha and told a couple of people I knew at the mailbox good bye. Then we walked to the car.
      "You don't seem sad at all." Alice said. "You've lived here a long time."
      "Just over six years." I looked at the buildings. "But it doesn't seem like home any more." I put my arm around her and kissed her forehead. "Because you don't live here."

      It had been so long since I'd been to the office I'd forgotten the code to get in the parking area. I got it right on the third try and the gate went up.
      "Well there it is." I said to Alice. "That big green building on the left is it." I nodded to the huge square somewhat ugly building.
      "The whole building?"
      "No. Just two floors about halfway up."
      "Oh. That's still a lot of room."
      She looked around the garage as I tried to find someplace to park. "How many people work in here?"
      I gave up and drove to the top floor. "Oh, I dunno. There's a couple of Federal agencies in here, and an insurance company, and some others. Maybe a couple thousand, or twenty five hundred or so between the two buildings. Maybe a little more on heavy days."
      She was grinning at me. "That's more than the population of Bryant."
      I pulled into an empty spot in a far corner and stopped the car. I looked out at the other building and wondered how I could have ever worked in something like that. "That's one of the reasons I wanted to move down there."
      "I'm glad."
      "Me too." I said as we got out and looked at the complex. Two giant green boxes connected by a green concourse that contained some small shops and the building's offices. "Me too."

      When we got to the office we found out that word was out that not only was I taking a GM spot, I had a girlfriend.
      "Hey Chet! She's cute! You gonna be around for lunch?"
      "Morning Scott. I don't know yet."
      "Chet. Mr. Salmon said he needed to see you right away when you came by. It is really important." The office manager Shirley said with an edge to her voice that meant it really was really important.
      "Yes ma'am." I looked at Alice. "Duty calls."
      "You go ahead. I'll wait here." Alice said.
      "Oh no she won't. I'm going to take her down to Basker's and tell her all your secrets."
      "OK." I said and headed for Mr. Salmon's office while still gazing into Alice's eyes.
      Alice just smiled at me and mouthed that she loved me as Shirley took her arm and led her to the elevator.

      Mr. Salmon was on the speaker phone when I walked into his office after the customary muffled knock on the door.
      "He just walked in. Chet, what's the story on the C-O-O for the Bryant site?" He nodded to the phone. "National Promo is on the line with Dirk."
      My mind had to shift gears quickly. National Promotions was a contractor in New York that handled all of our advertising. Dirk was Mister Suthers, one of the major partners in our firm.
      "We've got the paperwork in. It passed fire inspection Thursday. There were some minor issues that should be handled by today or tomorrow, but the inspector signed off on the preliminary anyway."
      "What kind of minor issues." A voice from the phone asked.
      "Nothing that'd fail it. They wanted another sensor in the serving area off the dining room. And we have to hang a couple more emergency exit signs in the housing unit. The usual stuff." I answered trying to remember the full report.
      "So when do you plan on opening?"
      "We're still ahead of schedule." I said. "We could hit the ground running by the first with no problem." I looked at Mr. Salmon's calendar. "That gives us three full weeks."
      "What's left to do?" Somebody on the phone asked.
      Mr. Salmon followed with, "When's the furniture coming in?"
      "The painters got in there Friday, taping and starting to cut it in. Mr. Krendel left me a message that the carpet guy called from Huntsville and will be out for final measurements... Tomorrow, then Thursday they'll start installing right behind the painters." I paused. "Some of the office furniture has been delivered to a warehouse we're using in town, the housing unit beds and stuff will be delivered and set up as soon as the carpet is in. Everything for the conference center is ordered and should be here, err, there, in the next week or so."
      There was a pause. I could hear somebody typing through the speakerphone.
      "Very good. So. We're good to go on schedule then."
      "Yes sir. Mister Suthers." I said finally recognizing one of the voices.
      One of the promotions people then asked about the grand opening and when we were going to start booking conferences and stuff.
      "We're just waiting for final word from Governor Richter's office on attendance. They've booked the entire site for three days the second weekend of next month for a strategic planning meeting for disaster recovery for state and county agencies. It looks like we'll be at about eighty percent capacity for it." Mister Salmon said.
      "I didn't know they were expecting that many people." I said. Then I smiled. "Trial by fire for the first one. We'll do it."
      "Governor Richter... He's in... Yeah. Alabama." Mr. Suthers said. "Chet, you make damn good and for sure you do them up right. That'd be a real good reference for us down there."
      "Yes sir. I intend to."

      After the conference call Mr. Salmon gave me some bad news.
      "I need you to stay for the meeting tomorrow." He said to me after some small talk. "We'll put you and Alice up in the best hotel we can find. I'll pay for your dinner and all. And I'll make sure somebody lets the movers into the house with your stuff. But I need you here."
      "What kind of meeting?"
      He looked at me with a frown in his eyes. "An assistant US Attorney wants to discuss the Confederate Bunker."

      I used Mr. Salmon's phone to call Shirley's cel phone, she put Alice on.
      "Something's come up. Can you and Shirley come back up here?"
      "We were just getting ready to go. What happened?"
      "I'll tell you when you get up here. Come right to Mr. Salmon's office."
      "Both of us?"
      "Yes. Please."
      I called the office in Bryant and explained to Mrs. Krendel what was up and when the truck should be at the house in the morning. She said it was no problem meeting them out there, and she assured me twice she had my extra key in safe keeping. I thanked her for myself and Mr. Salmon and hung up grateful for her and her husband, they had made this all much easier than it could have been.
      I told Mr. Salmon that that end was handled. Then we sat for awhile talking about what the Department of Justice could want with the Bunker, but then we ended up second guessing ourselves, which was a pointless exercise.
      Then Alice and Shirley knocked on the door.
      Me and Mr. Salmon took turns explaining it all.
      "Well. If we have to stay, we have to stay." Alice said. "That'll give us more time to clean up your office."
      "It's not.... It's not That Bad." I said.
      "Miss Shirley showed it to me. It's bad."
      Mr. Salmon just laughed.
      "I'll let you know when I get the hotel reservations."
      "Hotel and dinner." Mr. Salmon said. She nodded and left.
      "Well. I guess we'll see you at nine tomorrow."
      "Thanks for being such a good sport about it." Mr. Salmon said. "And thank you ma'am." He said to Alice.

      My office wasn't really messy by messy office standards. It was just overwhelmed for the space available. Alice was surprised that everything was actually organized and labeled, but there was just so much of it.
      I had records from other projects, blueprints that were being updated, even environmental impact reports and one survey on the status of a population of rattlesnakes in Texas. I began the process of packing while Alice called her parents and explained the delay.
      "Where is your stuff?" She asked as we sorted and boxed the records that would go to whoever ended up with my job.
      "Here and there." I pointed to a picture of me on one of the horses in Vermont sitting on a shelf on another stack of documents. "That whole stack is contracts for the Vermont site."
      "Then those are probably important." She said taking them down.
      "Probably."
      She began putting stuff that would fit in a file folder in one and labeling it clearly.
      I boxed everything I considered mine or that I knew I'd need in the office in Bryant in between identifying stuff for her and answering questions from co-workers, or ex-coworkers now, who stopped by.
      We were almost done when Shirley came in with our hotel information.
      She handed me a note with the name and address of the hotel. "It's the one in Tyson's Corner. But I couldn't swing a club room for you."
      "Oh, that's a nice hotel. I know right where it's at." I said looking at it. "Are you sure this is the right...."
      "Mr. Salmon cleared it with Mr. Suthers himself. And dinner at their Steak House restaurant."
      "OK then." I surrendered.
      "Where are we going?" Alice asked me.
      "A really nice hotel. And even nicer restaurant."
      "Do I get to dress up again?"
      "Yes." Shirley answered with a smile.

      We left one tightly packed box on my desk to pick up in the morning and left for the hotel to beat the rush hour traffic.
      Alice asked me a dozen questions about the hotel, but I could only answer a few of them. Some of the big-wigs that came into our offices stayed there once in awhile and sometimes I'd have to ferry them one way or the other or we'd have a meeting with them in the hotel.
      But I still hadn't told her which hotel we were staying at.
      Then I turned past the upscale shopping center the hotel was connected to and she saw the sign.
      "Oh my." Alice said looking up at the twenty story building that was our hotel.
      "Yes ma'am."
      It was usually rated at four stars depending on whose guidebook you were looking at. And it was easily one of the classiest hotels I'd ever been associated with in the area.
      I became very self conscious about the way we looked, the condition of my five year old high mileage car, and our suitcases. I glanced into the back seat and saw my rugged old traveling bag with the many battle scars my travels had inflicted on it. Most recently was a large scrape from a flatbed cart that I had covered with a sticker proclaiming how good Vermont cheese was.
      "Well." I said waiting for the valet to wave me into the waiting area behind a fancy European car with an elegant couple waiting to get into it. "We're underdressed, with miss-matched luggage, and that guy probably pays per month what I bought this entire car for... but... we're here and they have to deal with us."
      "I love you." Alice laughed. "They're just people like us."
      A woman in an ankle length fur walked out of the hotel and got into an actual limousine near the curb.
      "Well. Maybe not Just like us." She added to her previous statement.
      "You're right. We work for a living." I pulled into the indicated spot and put the car in park.
      "Yes sir. May I assist you?" The guy in the brightly trimmed jacket asked me as I got out.
      "Yes sir. My office made reservations for us."
      "Yes sir. Right this way." He indicated us to follow him.

      The desk clerk seemed a little bemused by us at first. I was in shirt sleeves and Alice in slacks and a simple blouse. We had planned on stopping by the office and picking up my things then driving all day, not checking into one of the first rank hotels in the city and one of the better ones in the entire area. But then she checked my name on the reservation list and suddenly smiled broadly.
      "Yes sir Mister Michels. It says that this was an emergency layover, is there anything you need for your stay?"
      "I don't know off hand. Something may come up later."
      "Yes sir. Let me process this for you. Phillip will be more than happy to assist you with your bags." She nodded for the guy that had met us outside.
      "I'll go with him and get them." Alice said with a gentle smile. "The car's a little full."
      So I stood there and let the smiling young woman in the vest check us in.

      We were escorted up to our room by another employee while we tried not to appear too uncivilized to everybody else in the building. I was no less amazed by the displays of art and architecture on display just in the lobby and atrium of the hotel than Alice was.
      But we contained ourselves until we were safely in our room. Or rather, in our suite.
      "This is such a nice room!" Alice said after I had tipped the young man that had helped us with our bags with a barely hidden smirk. She pulled back the curtains and stood amazed at the view of the distant Blue Ridge Mountains. "Oh." She said.
      I put my arms around her and told her I ordered the view just for her.
      "If you did. Thank you." She kissed me. "And even if you didn't, thank you anyway."
      We held each other and alternated looking out at the sun over the mountains and kissing for some time.
      Then I realized I had no idea what time our reservations for dinner were. I fished the note out of my pocket. "We've got a couple of hours before dinner. Would you like to go down and walk around the mall?"
      She thought about it. "Let's change first so we don't have to hurry later."

      Once again Alice dressed to the nines and looked absolutely gorgeous.
      I felt slightly homely in my business suit, but it would have to do.
      The gallery shops were as fancy as the hotel. At first I thought Alice wouldn't be comfortable just walking through them and looking, and for a few minutes she wasn't, but soon we both relaxed and just enjoyed being out together.
      And then I saw the pearls.

      The walkway sign for the jewelry store sale was probably a little out of place. But then so were we. But as we glanced in the window I saw a long single strand of what the sign said were freshwater pearls that I thought would look wonderful around Alice's neck.
      "Let's go look." I suggested to her, she smiled and we walked in.
      I didn't let on at all that unless the price was longer than the store's phone number, she was going to be wearing them to dinner. I pretended to look at the case of watches while Alice drifted off to look at a cabinet of fancy knick-knacks.
      A stately woman had asked Alice if she needed assistance, then she came over to me.
      "How much are those freshwater pearls in the window?" I asked her quietly.
      She went and got them and let me inspect them. The first thing I reached for was the price tag.
      "I'll take them." I told her and handed her my card.
      "Yes sir." She said and went to complete the sale.
      "What are you buying?"
      "Just something."
      She looked toward the sales lady and saw the pearls. "You didn't."
      I just smiled until the lady returned with the slip for me to sign.
      "I'll take this, those are hers." I said and took the sales receipt and signed it.
      "Oh Chet." Alice said as the lady dramatically draped them over her hand. "They're beautiful."
      "And they are real freshwater pearls." The lady said. "See the colors in them?"
      "Yes." Was all she said because in a second she was kissing me.
      "I think she likes them." The lady said to us when we separated.
      "Yes. Thank you." She said to me, and then repeated it to the lady.
      The saleslady remarked that the string had a warranty and some other details that neither of us heard while Alice doubled the strand and put it on. Then she took off her thin gold necklace with a small heart on it and looked in the mirror behind the counter.
      "Beautiful." I said.
      "They are."
      "I was talking about you." I said.
      She blushed and the saleslady smiled.
      "Let me get you a box for your necklace ma'am." She said and reached down behind the counter.
      "Thank you." Alice said as the lady handed her the small cardstock box.

      We walked through the rest of the mall with Alice thanking me for her pearls or saying something about how beautiful they were about every two minutes.
      Finally after we'd walked around the third floor and were about go back down to the hotel entrance when I stopped and pulled her to me.
      "Have I told you lately that I really am in love with you?" I said.
      She just smiled.

      We went to the restaurant a little before our reservation time.
      "Yes sir. Your table will be ready in just a few minutes." The hostess said to us.
      While the view was not nearly as spectacular as our last dinner date, the restaurant itself most certainly was with a live pianist playing softly off to one side of very tastefully appointed tables and wonderful decorations.
      We were given a table almost as romantic as the one we had the other night. The dinner was every bit as good. And my companion was just as delightful.
      If I hadn't already fallen in love with her, I would have then.

End Section Three

Continued in Section Four

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