A Quiet Little Town Pt. 01

It had been another grueling twelve-hour day. I looked around the bar at the other patrons and thought that for many of them their biggest complaint about their job was probably the bad cafeteria food or lousy co-workers. They didn't realize how easy they had it. At the end of the day, I had just enough energy to lift a beer glass. My love life was nonexistent at times like this because I needed sleep more than I needed a woman.

Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by someone slapping me on the shoulders from behind. "How's it going, hotshot?"

John always greeted me that way. It wasn't meant as a slight. He was just acknowledging what I did for a living. I wasn't a famous lawyer or athlete but I was someone you might have caught a glimpse of on TV. We're called hotshots because we're often sent to the hottest part of a fire. Sometimes people confuse us with smokejumpers. The difference is simple. We walk into Hell, they parachute into it.

Although my crew wasn't as famous as the Granite Mountain Hotshots, we did the same work. When nineteen members of that group died at the same time, it brought attention to how dangerous our work really is. Sometimes all it takes is a sudden change in the wind to turn a bad situation into something fatal.

"Hi, John. Just dead-tired. Join me in a beer?"

"Sure." He motioned to the bartender and ordered what I had, not one of those light beers people who worry about their weight drink. "Making any progress on those California fires?"

"I don't know. I'm too close to it to tell. Listen, if you ever want to feel small, just stand near a fire that's fifty feet tall."

"And this is what you've always wanted?"

"You know my family, four generations of firefighters."

"So, you had no choice?"

"Of course, I had a choice. It's just that firefighting is in our blood. The only difference is that my other family members chose to work for the state. I chose to work for the Feds. The hours are longer and the challenges different but I can fulfill the dream that I've had since I was twelve and still retire early enough to enjoy the rest of my life ... if I survive."

"Speaking of retirement, how many years do you have left?"

"Just turned forty-two. At the end of this year, I'll have my twenty years of service."

"Then what?"

"I have no fucking clue. I never thought about what comes after."

We talked for another hour before John told me to go home. My eyelids had started to betray me and John noticed.

It was a dry summer and the fires refused to be contained for two months. After almost twenty years, the long hours and hard work were starting to take a toll and I looked forward to retirement, relaxing and enjoying how a cool breeze felt.

When the time came, my retirement party was attended by all eighteen members of my crew. We'd been lucky. Nobody had been lost in those devastating California wildfires. I love those guys. There's a bond created by handling adversity together that can't be explained unless you experience it. I've heard the same about the military. In both cases the person next to you may be your only lifeline in a crisis.

Until the day I officially retired I lived in an apartment in San Francisco. I always wanted a place of my own but real estate prices in California are insane. One thing was certain, after twenty years fighting wildfires, I didn't want to be anywhere near one.

I dreamed of owning a Victorian style home. If I'm being honest, it was more than a dream, it was an obsession. Most of my friends tried to talk me out of it, telling me how much renovation and maintenance it would need because of its age and that it was too big for a bachelor but I loved the architecture. My reservations were different but just as real. The cost was much more than I could afford and there were very few available. I hoped I'd find what I was looking for in a different place. An internet search indicated that there was a small town in Nebraska that might have what I was looking for and I wouldn't have to worry about wildfires ... maybe tornadoes but not wildfires. I realized that living in Nebraska would be a whole different experience than the life I had in California but I was willing to make the move if I could fulfill my dream.

In my mind I had a budget of $300,000 for the house with about $150,000 for renovations. I planned to keep the outside of my house close to the original but the insides would be brought up to modern standards.

I knew better than to view houses during the winter while snow is on the ground and problems might not be seen, so I waited until the last week of April to take a midnight flight to Omaha. It was the only flight from San Francisco that arrived in the morning. From there, I rented a car and drove the rest of the way to meet the real estate agent who was expecting me.

It was about noon that I walked into the Five Star Realty office and was greeted by Lisa, the woman I had talked to on the phone. I'd describe her as a woman in her early thirties, about 5'8" in low heels, with shoulder-length brown hair and brown eyes. Dressed in a pant suit to tone down what looked like a sexy body, she seemed the total professional.

"You must be Henry. Can I get you a cup of coffee and maybe a slice of homemade lemon pound cake after your long trip?"

"That would be great, but call me Hank. I haven't been called Henry since elementary school."

"Hank, even though this is Nebraska and not San Francisco, the prices of most Victorian homes are more than what you said your budget is. Is it okay to show you other possibilities?"

"No offense Lisa, but I didn't travel all the way here to look at other style homes."

"Okay, I'll show you what's available."

That morning Lisa showed me four houses. One was rejected because I didn't particularly like its curb appeal and the others because their price was much too high.

"Lisa, is that all of them?"

"I know of one more Victorian house on the outskirts of town but I doubt you'll like it. The house has been on the market for over eight years with no success. Built in 1879, it was foreclosed on by the county when the owners died and taxes were never paid by whoever inherited it. Later the property was purchased by a local bank. It's in your budget but definitely a fixer-upper."

"I don't mind doing renovations, so why haven't you mentioned it until now?"

"I'll show it to you and you'll understand."

We drove out of town and stopped close to the town limits. The house we parked near didn't look like the Bates Motel or the Adams Family mansion but other prospective buyers said they got the same creepy feeling when they saw it. Painted a dark brown with turrets at the two front corners and shutters which were nailed shut, no one could say it lacked character but not having been lived in for over eight years, the grounds were heavily overgrown and the paint on the house was weathered and peeling. Before we entered, Lisa handed me a mask to wear since she knew that everything inside was covered in a thick layer of dust and possibly mold. As was typical for Victorian homes, each of its floors was divided into many small rooms, the complete opposite of an open-concept floor plan. My friends were right about needing a big budget for renovations. The kitchen and bathrooms looked like they hadn't been upgraded since the 1950's. It seemed the perfect house for a horror movie, especially when you noticed what was behind it.

Some people feel uneasy living near a cemetery. I just find it quiet but just to be sure, I asked about the building that stood less than fifty feet away.

"What can you tell me about the church?"

"The church was built about one hundred sixty years ago, around the time that Nebraska became a state but since then our town population has declined and any young people who still attend church prefer one in the center of town. When the congregation here dwindled to only a few older members, the pastor was transferred to another location and the church died. For the next twenty years the church remained empty. That was until about five years ago. At that time a group representing the Cistercians of the Strict Observance purchased the property and the monks that live there keep to themselves twenty-four hours a day."

"I'm not familiar with that Order."

"You probably know them by a different name. The people inside are commonly called Trappist monks."

"When I hear the words 'Trappist monks' the things that come to mind are silence, celibacy and almost no contact with the outside world."

"That pretty much describes them."

"Lisa, I'm catching a flight back to California tonight but I'll give you a decision on this house by the end of the week. Crazy as it sounds, I like the house and the cemetery doesn't bother me but the house needs a lot of work and I need to do some calculations."

I spent the rest of the day walking around the town trying to see if I'd be comfortable living there. The people seemed friendly enough so for me the question came down to money. The flight home went quickly as I envisioned all the changes I'd make if I owned the house.

Later that week I called Lisa with my decision.

"Hey, Lisa it's Hank. I've decided to make an offer on the house. I know you said the house was listed at $275,000 but I'm only prepared to offer $225,000. There's too much that has to be done to pay full price."

"Considering it's been on the market for so long, the bank will probably take it. I'll call you back after I talk to them."

At 2:30 p.m. my phone rang. "Hank, this is Lisa. Sorry but the bank didn't accept your offer. They did counter at $240,000 though. What should I tell them?"

"Tell them, they may have just sold the house. Have them send me the necessary paperwork and I'll have a friend of mine who's a lawyer look it over. If everything checks out, I'll send it back with notarized signatures and arrange for a transfer of the money. Thanks for all your help, Lisa. If the deal goes through, I'll drop by to thank you in person."

Two days later I received a FedEx package that I had to sign for. The bank was moving quickly and I felt I should do the same so I called my friend Mark that night.

"Hey Hank, how are you doing now that you're retired?"

"Okay. How's the family?"

"Sandy and the girls are doing fine. You should visit more now that you have some free time."

"I will. Listen, I need a favor."

"Name it."

"I'd like you to look over some legal papers to see if there are any issues before I buy a house."

"Not a problem."

"And I know you're very busy but can you do it within a week?"

"I can check out the papers this weekend. Is that fast enough?"

"That would be perfect. I'll walk the papers over to your office tomorrow morning."

Sunday night I got a call from Mark.

"Nebraska? That's a big step. Are you sure?"

"Actually, no. This could be one of the best decisions of my life or one of the worst. I'll be leaving the only life I've known for a house far from family and friends but you know my obsession with Victorian houses although I don't think I've ever explained it. Those houses bring images of a different, slower paced time. I'm aware of the strict morals of the period but I'm also aware of the beautiful poetry written."

"A tough guy like you reads poetry?"

"Yeah, just don't spread it around and ruin my image. I've always preferred a simpler life. My favorite movies are from the 40's. These days, movies use car chases, explosions and sex to make up for less than great stories. Not having the 'benefit' of special effects, old black-and-white movies had to rely on great characters and relationships. Casablanca and For Whom the Bell Tolls are movies that quickly come to mind."

"Well, nothing in the paperwork seems unusual, so it's only a question of whether you follow your heart or do the sensible thing."

"Does a sensible person battle wildfires?"

"I guess you answered my question. You can pick up the papers from my secretary at any time and we can notarize your signature while you're at the office. Good luck in Nebraska but keep in touch, okay?"

"You got it."

Less than two weeks later I was driving back to Nebraska to start a new life. The deed and completed paperwork had already been sent to me and I started a list of things I needed to do when I arrived. It was actually cheaper to rent an entire apartment in a nearby city while the renovation was done than rent a motel room so that's what I did. Finding a cleanup company and local contractors were things I'd need help with. I hoped Lisa could give me some recommendations. I'd rather get advice from an actual person then rely on reviews posted on the internet.

It was a Saturday that I arrived in town and paid a visit to the real estate office but this time a young girl greeted me.

"Can I help you?"

"I was looking for Lisa. She helped me buy a house and I wanted to ask her some questions."

"My mom is out with another customer but maybe I can help."

I was momentarily surprised to find she had a teenage daughter but I shouldn't have been. It's been my experience that attractive women don't stay single very long.

"I'm not sure. I think she has the keys to an old house I bought and I need to find some contractors who can help me renovate it."

"You're the guy who bought the haunted house, right?"

"Your mom didn't say anything about it being haunted."

"It isn't. At least I think it isn't. It's just how the people around here describe that old house. Well, I can give you the keys but I can't help with that other stuff."

"What's your name?"

"Eleanor but everyone calls me Ellie or Nora."

"Ellie, I'm going to leave my name and phone number. If she gets the chance, have your mom call me tonight. Nice meeting you Ellie."

My original plan was to thank Lisa by taking her to dinner. Now, if that dinner took place at all it would probably include more than just the two of us. I drove around town looking for a fancy restaurant but couldn't find any. Searching the internet with my phone didn't end in success either. Luckily the neighborhood where I was staying had a place which looked perfect. Reviews on Yelp confirmed my opinion and I was ready for Lisa's phone call later that night.

"Welcome back, Hank. I guess we'll be neighbors now."

"I guess so."

"I know your house isn't livable yet so where are you staying?"

"I rented an apartment while the house gets fixed up. Listen, there are two reasons for my visit to your office. I came to ask if you had any recommendations for local contractors and I wanted to thank you for your help. Will you have dinner with me?"

"You know I'm married, so the answer to your question is conditional. Would it be okay to bring my husband?"

"Of course. I'll book a table for three. What day is good for you?"

"Is tomorrow night at about 7:30 okay?"

"I'll make reservations."

"Most places here in town cater to the lunch crowd more than the dinner crowd."

"I noticed that, so how about a place near me called The Palace."

"Okay, just text me the address."

"By the way, you have a nice daughter."

"Thank you. I'll bring some names and phone numbers so you'll be able to start work on your house. Again, welcome to the neighborhood. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Lisa."

After making the reservations there was little left to do except maybe buy some new clothes. Most of my clothes and other possessions were still in San Francisco, packed in one of those Pods and wouldn't arrive until I sent for them. I came to Nebraska with what I could fit in my car and the clothes on my back.

In my past life I had very few reasons to dress up but that day I wanted to make a good impression so I arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, dressed in a dark grey suit and a button-down shirt I'd purchased that day and waited for my dinner guests. When they arrived I was surprised but I stood up and waved them to my table. I had new questions but this wasn't the time or place.

"Hello Lisa. Hello again, Ellie. Lisa, have any trouble finding this place?"

"Not really. Just put the address in my car's GPS and followed the directions. Nice restaurant. I, ahh ..."

Lisa looked like she was going to say something about the substitution of her daughter for her husband but I interrupted her.

"Since the two of you lovely ladies are my guests tonight, order anything you like, except alcohol for you, Ellie. You'll have to wait a few more years for that."

We left that restaurant with full stomachs and I left with a page of contacts. As we said our goodbyes, Lisa's face turned serious and her final words to me were, "We'll talk again soon. There are things you need to know."

The dinner with Lisa and her daughter seemed pleasant enough except for that cryptic remark by Lisa as we said goodbye. It seemed more ominous than just an explanation as to why her husband wasn't there. If I wasn't mistaken it was a warning of some sort. Anyway, I was sure I'd find out when she felt comfortable enough to talk about whatever was bothering her. It was obvious she didn't want to say anything while her daughter was present.

After our dinner at the restaurant, I started making calls to some of the numbers on the list that Lisa gave me. The first order of business was to get the house thoroughly cleaned. Only then would I know what my next step would be. Normal house cleaning was not what was needed so I called the first number on Lisa's list, Parker Commercial Cleaning. The angry response was not what I expected.

"Who is this?"

My name is Hank Michaels."

"You selling something?"

"No, I'd like to talk to someone about cleaning a house."

"How did you get this number? It's unlisted."

"Sorry, maybe I misdialed. I was trying to contact a company called Parker Commercial Cleaning."

"This is James Parker and I own the company so I'll ask again, who gave you my personal cell phone number?"

"Lisa Mitchell at Five Star Realty."

There was a long pause before I heard Mr. Parker's voice again.

"How do you know Lisa?"

"She's the one who helped me buy the house I need cleaned."

"We don't usually handle jobs that small but, as a favor to her, we'll do it. I'll have someone contact you about the details. We can start this week and should be able to finish the job in three days but in the future, use the phone number on our website, not this one."

With that, the call ended. I wondered if all my other calls would be similar. Something told me that mentioning Lisa's name would open a lot of doors when I spoke to the other companies but I couldn't figure out why. The only thing that made sense was that it had something to do with what she wanted to tell me.

Next, I considered what could be done while the cleaning was going on that wouldn't cause any problems. The answer was landscaping so I contacted the company on my list and scheduled a visit to the house. I needed the land to look less like a deserted property. I had absolutely no plans for a garden but I did want a nice lawn.

When a representative of the landscaping company came to my house I was informed that it might be months before they could schedule the work, but that was until I mentioned Lisa's name. As if by magic, another job was rescheduled to allow mine to be done. This was weird. I was totally confused as to how the owner of a small realty company could have such power.

It was two days later that I got a call from Lisa.

"Hi, Hank. I'm sure you've got lots of questions especially since I made the mistake of giving you a phone number from the list of contacts on my phone instead of one publicly advertised."

"Yeah, my conversation with Mr. Parker was a shock to both of us."

"I can't remember if I made the same mistake with the other companies so I think it's best if you look up the phone numbers of the companies on the internet."