MAKING PROGRESS... of sorts (Part 172a)

MAKING PROGRESS… of sorts (Part 172a)

To keep harmony for the rest of the day I made myself available to do anything Elle wanted done. I wasn’t surprised when she said she wanted me to spade up the flower garden out behind the garage. The perennials we’d planted the previous spring had not made it through the Winter in very good condition so she wanted to start over. When I’d ‘conned’ Bob and Phyl into donating a couple of flats of flowers to the church they reminded me that they were in business to make money and that even though their primary business was wholesale, they would love to see us stop by. It didn’t take long for me to do the spade work and by mid afternoon we were at their nursery. As I remember it the cost was around $25. After planting and seeing how happy Elle was with the result I felt I got off cheaply. At supper I was rewarded with gingerbread with whipped cream, my favorite dessert.

At work, the week didn’t look to be be anything out of the ordinary as I looked down at my desk planner. Basically, there were a number of things to be ‘put to bed’ including getting the daily deposit print outs out of Moira’s work area and down to the cellar. Mae and I had cleared enough space in bin one to have had shelves installed down the outside wall to house them. That had been the easy part. Now came lugging the print outs for the past year and a half down there and to make sure they were properly identified and accessible. I’d contacted Ward, the man who did the daily cleaning of the bank facilities, to bring in his crew for the job. However, I knew he’d need supervision. Moira was the one to do it but I didn’t want her to be the lone bank person there and I’d asked Bret to join her. The only time Ward could do it was on a Saturday as he was the lead custodian for the school district and was required to be at work during the day. His ‘crew’ was made up of other custodians that worked under him in the various schools in the district. Bret hadn’t taken kindly to the request and had let me know it, but in a nice way. However, now with no motor for the race car I wouldn’t be headed for the track on Saturday and would be available to do it.

When Bret showed up at his desk the first thing he wanted to know how the car had made out in Connecticut. In a matter of fact way I told him we’d “hand grenaded” the motor. It was obvious by the look on his face he didn’t believe me. I immediately told him about the other blown motor while at that track and now, for sure, he didn’t believe me. When I continued with the results of our ‘Pontiac experiment’ on Saturday night he finally spoke and demanded that I tell him what really happened. It took a little time but I don’t think he really grasped it until I told him he didn’t have to work on the upcoming Saturday and that I’d do it. It was a hard concept to grasp… three blown motors in 24 hours.

It wasn’t yet 9:30am when Joanie told me that Stan, my stock broker, was on the phone for me. It was to tell me it was time to “unload” the Pacific Petroleum stock that I’d bought earlier in the year. It was up 40% and he told me it was foolish to go any further. If I sold it at the bid price I’d end up with about a $1,000 profit. I’d been standing when I took the call but after hearing that I ended up sitting down. I told him to go ahead with the sale. He closed the call by saying he had some other stocks he wanted me to look at and had the information at his desk. I told him I’d be over at lunch time. I can honestly remember sitting there, contemplating the $1,000, and telling myself NOT to put it into the race car and to keep my mouth shut and just re-invest it with the principal  from the sale. I couldn’t wait to hear the noon siren.

When I walked into the brokerage office I saw Stan and Lynda over at Bill, the manager’s area. The two of them were standing by his desk and seemed to be in deep conversation. Lynda happened to look over to where I was and put a finger up to indicate for me to wait. Approaching me, I could see she was agitated. I also noticed that Ruthe, Bill’s assistant, wasn’t at her desk. She rarely left the office to have lunch and if she did it was usually with Bill. So, I had a slight indication that what was troubling Lynda might have something to do with Ruthe… and I was right.

Eddie, Ruthe’s ex husband had been held in jail since he’d been apprehended after beating her up. Bill had just received word that a plea deal had been worked out for him to avoid going to trial. They didn’t know the details but they did know the only jail time would be the time he’d already served. Ruthe, as soon as she'd heard the news, left. My knowledge of the court system was practically non existent. Bill’s father was a Justice of the Peace (sort of like a judge) in the township where Bill lived and he’d called him to see if he could get details on the decision. After Lynda told me about it she added that something just wasn’t right. I’d not gotten too involved with all the machinations of Eddie’s past transgressions but did know the reason he’d been held in jail was that he’d broken his probation for a previous beating of Ruthe. So, with little to go on all I could do was to listen. Lynda suggested that I stop by after work to talk with Stan about re-investing the proceeds from the sale as he was a little “distracted” at the moment.

When Bret returned from his lunch break I told him about Eddie and what I’d heard. His immediate reaction was to say that he pretty much felt he’d get off “light”. He went on that Eddie’s father, one of the richest farmers in the township, was “well connected” and that’s how Eddie got off with probation the last time. It made me wonder what Ruthe was going to do what with him now freed from jail. Again, I didn’t have knowledge of the courts or details of the plea deal but I pretty much knew that Ruthe was not in a good frame of mind.

I left work at around 4:30pm and headed back to the brokerage office. It was pretty much deserted with only Lynda, Bill and Stan still there. As soon as Stan saw me he handed me an envelope and told me to take a look at the suggestions he’d placed in it and there was nothing that needed an immediate decision. It was obvious he didn’t want to discuss anything with me as he turned back to his desk leaving me standing outside Lynda’s work area. She didn’t seem to be a stressed as when I’d been there at lunch and asked what I’d been up to. It had been a couple of weeks since I’d been in the office so, with nothing earth shattering to say, mentioned that the stock car season had started and ended for me. She gave me a funny look as if to say “What are you talking about?” I told her that we’d won on opening night but had blown the motor up the past weekend. I had to explain the “blown motor” to her but she was aware of the precarious position, monetarily, that our team was in and that I was not going to underwrite it, she asked what was next. I shrugged my shoulders and made a funny face. She said but one word… “Seriously?” That’s when I said that we’d probably sell the car without a motor and try to get as much of our investment back as we could. The only way to describe the look on her face was one of disbelief. “But you guys just won a race and you’re quitting?” My answer back was “No motor… no racing…” She immediately dialed up a number on her phone.

To be continued…