Goerke's Corner Pt. 02

The drive home was anything but boring. Scenario after scenario rolled through my head. Greta Friedrich of all people. Never in a million years would I have thought of her in a romantic way. Hell, I couldn't even remember what she looked like other than a spitting image of her big sister. The last I remembered of her was a girl with an almost flat chest, no ass to speak of and tinsel teeth. (Braces) Hilda told me that I wouldn't be disappointed with what I saw so she must have developed nicely as she matured.

Gone for another two months, another wrench in the gears so to speak. How would I get to know her if I haven't met her as an adult? And what about those little girls? Are they ready for a hardnosed ex-Marine as a stepdad? Better yet. Was I ready for my life to be invaded by female everything from undies over the shower curtain to fancy smelling perfumes to nail polish, to who knows what women do these days. Drama at every turn, oncoming puberty? Raising teen daughters? How would I handle the first greasy haired, pimple faced perve that wanted to date one of my girls? Fuck, this wasn't coloring outside the lines, this was miles from my comfort zone.

Sleep was restless at best. My morning run was usually where I planned the rest of my day. Not this morning. My mind was still in a fog. Talking and being with Hilda was fun, but was I ready for the rest of what we talked about? I needed clarity. Being brave I decided to try the texting thing instead of calling Hilda. I had no idea what her schedule was and didn't want to interrupt with a phone call.

Me: Morning Hilda. Say, about last night. I'm not so sure it would work. Maybe you shouldn't say anything to Greta.

I spent the greater part of that morning moving Gilbert and his shit out of the station. He mumbled and complained that he hadn't seen a dime from the sale. My thought was *tough shit, you were into the bank for thousands. What did you do with it? * The more he pissed and moaned the more irritated I became. I finally stopped his yammering and asked.

"How much would it take to shut your mouth and get the hell out of here?"

I sensed the little peckerhead had been hoping I might ask because without a moments hesitation he blurted. "Five grand."

My answer was just as rapid. "Fuck you Gilbert. A grand and you hit the trail cow patty. As in, right fucking now." Not knowing what fees and such I would encounter each day I had enough cash in the truck to cover a grand. I gave him an ultimatum, "I enough have cash on hand to cover that. Once it's in your hands I want you gone."

The stupid ass got cocky and demanded two grand. Wrong move. As I walked toward him he realized he had fucked up royally. With my nose three inches from his I let him know exactly where he stood.

"Listen, Shit Breath. I just changed my mind. I'll buy a bus ticket to wherever you want to go in the lower 48, I'll put two hundred bucks in your hand, and I never want to see you again. That's the offer, take it or get the hell off my property."

You know the saying, stupid is as stupid does. I'm convinced Gilbert was the role model for that quote. He almost spit in my face as he replied.

"When kin I git that ticket?"

I was fed up with his ignorance. "Right now Gilbert. Follow me to Clairemont, I'll buy the ticket and you're history. I'll put the money in your hand when you get on the bus and not a moment before."

Gilbert was ready. "There's a bus leaves at three. Always wanted to go south. I kin be packed and ready to catch that bus. Kin you meet me at the bus station by then? I gotta git the truck back to my buddy so I can't go right away."

I almost shouted, "I'll be there at two and your ass better be there as well. Now get the hell outta my store."

He grabbed the remainder of the six-pack he'd brought, popped a top and slammed at least half of it in one swig. I wondered if his buddy knew he was loaded while he drove. That thought left just as quickly as it had come. The dumpster was being dropped off as he drove away, and my phone started ringing. *What next* I thought. *Who the hell did I know that would be calling me at 10:45 in the morning?*

I gave it my normal I'm peeved answer, "Yeah. Who's this?"

I heard a laugh followed by, "Well good morning to you-to-you ornery cuss. What's the problem, put your underwear on backwards?"

I knew I should have been more polite but Gilbert had me pissed.

"Hi Hilda. Sorry. I just had it out with Gilbert. I'm putting him on a bus later today and hope to never see or hear from him again. Geez that man grinds my axe. What's up?"

Another laugh, "What's up? What the heck does that mean? You texted me. Remember?"

Under my breath I mumbled, "Oh shit, that's right." Then proceeded trying to dig myself out of the muck I'd waded into.

"Yeah. Sorry. Hey, maybe you should hold off telling your sister about me. It might not work and to be honest I'm not sure I can handle three women in the house at one time."

I heard her serious voice take over, "Robert. You still overthink everything. First, it's too late to not mention you to Greta. She's excited about the possibilities by the way. Second, you won't be inundated with 3 women at once. You'll have one woman who will fawn over and love you to no end. Along with that lady will be two little girls starved for love and affection from someone they trust. I can guarantee the first time they crawl on your lap and use that magic word, 'daddy' you'll be hooked."

I wasn't sure what to think. "Do you really think it could be like that? I mean, isn't that sort of a fairy tale?"

I loved her answer, "Doesn't have to be if you don't want it to. Kids want to be loved, warm, fed, treated properly, have a bike and a safe home. One more thing mister skeptical. She isn't returning for another two months. She has international text and long distance. Call or text her. Get the ball rolling and in the meantime, you can work yourself to exhaustion while you wait for their arrival."

"You make it sound simple and easy Hilda. I'm just not sure."

Her answer set me straight, "It isn't simple and easy Rob. Every marriage is what you make it to be. No outside force can do it for you. Show her love and respect, she'll do the same. I need to hang up Robbie boy, got a hip replacement to do in an hour."

I said, "Bye Hilda." And the line went dead.

My morning had transformed from a metaphorical drizzle to a downpour. There was no time to contemplate or ruminate all that had been said. I needed to get myself organized in a damn quick hurry, decide what was priority one after getting shitbird Gilbert on that damned bus and then execute my plan. The words of an old Gunnery Sgt. rang in my ears, *those who fail to plan, plan to fail*. Nope, that wasn't going to be me.

To soothe the raging savage creature within I decided a blue plate special at the Cat's Meow was in order before having put Gilberts lazy, worthless ass on the bus and out of my life. The thoughts about consuming a roast beef sandwich smothered in gravy changed quickly when I discovered the daily special. Chicken fried steak with fries and kernel corn. There was no debate in my mind, it would be the daily special. I was about to leave when who should walk through the door but the lady who worked at the registrar's office. The one I had run in front of weeks earlier.

Trying to be friendly I smiled and waved expecting her to walk on by. Not so, she sat across the table from me and started a conversation.

"I have a quick question and then I'll let you be. Whatever became of all the research you did on Goerke's Corner?" She asked.

I grinned. "I bought the old station and orchard. I'm going to start gutting and remodeling the place next week. I've already eliminated most of the dead trees in the orchard."

As a waitress walked by the lady tapped her hip, "Hi Mary. I'll take the special. Chocolate milk. Thanks."

I smiled, apparently her one question and *I'll let you be* were vastly different than mine. I didn't mind, it helped kill time.

She continued, "Then you might have known my folks. The Fullers? They lived at the west end of town where the jam lady used to sell her stuff. They bought it from her in '68."

The gears were turning rapidly and then I remembered. "Yeah, Yeah, now I recall. I was a senior that year, but I don't remember you."

"That's because I was a freshman at college. I knew of but had never met you. Your mom and mine were the best of friends."

I grinned, "No way. Was your mom the famous Shirley my mother talked about? They were in the same quilting club, weren't they?" She nodded. "I'll be damned. Who would have thought after all these years that I would find out who Shirley was."

Her meal was arriving so I continued, "Then you must be Helen. Mom talked about their daughter Helen in her letters."

A frown crossed her face, "Nope, that would be my younger sister, the perfect one. I'm Dorothy, the loud mouthed rebellious one who married the bad boy. He had it all, leather motorcycle jacket, long hair and beard, a loud fast car and a snotty attitude. But I loved that guy, still do matter of fact. We raised five kids. What my parents didn't know at the time, or me either for that matter, is that he has a mechanical aptitude second to none. He builds race engines for drag racers, Nascar drivers, even some of those fancy tractor pulling rigs. And he makes a hell of a lot of money doing it."

She smiled as she took a bite and looked up, "Yup, he's my hero. My honey who's all that and a bag o' chips."

We chatted not only through her meal but a piece of cheesecake each before she left. It would be another hour and a half before I needed to meet Gilbert at the bus station so I moseyed on over to Woods Ace Hardware where I picked up some tools I didn't have but would need.

The quote, unquote, bus station in Clairemont was now nothing more than a small office off the liquor store. There were two buses that left Monday through Saturday connecting with larger bus stations along the way. The office was open for two hours starting at 8 in the morning for the eleven o'clock bus and 2 in the afternoon for the three o'clock bus. Gilbert was sitting outside the door with an old Army duffel bag and a worn-out suitcase waiting for the office to open. Which it did as I parked the truck.

You might think that waiting on two people ahead of Gilbert would be done quickly. That was not to be. It was two forty-five before he had a ticket in hand and was asking for the $200 I promised. Once again I explained when he set foot on the bus I would put the money in his hand, which I did. He didn't say goodbye, go to hell or kiss my ass. Neither did I, he walked onto the bus without a word or look backwards, I walked to the truck, mumbling "good riddance" and headed home.

I felt a sense of relief as I drove. I could get on with what needed doing without wondering to myself, *what next*. I swung by the station on the way home to make sure the dumpster was where I wanted it and to put the tools I'd purchased inside. I was walking through the store area taking a visual inventory of what would stay and what would go. I didn't hear the door open or close and thought I was alone until I heard Andy.

"Hey Rob. Man you got a lot to do in here don'cha? If you're lookin' for help I'm available. Things are slow at the mill so me and a bunch of older guys took the layoff. Them younger guys got families and need a full paycheck. Keep me in mind, I can still work with the best of um, and I'm cheap. I can only make a little bit of money before they start docking my unemployment."

I liked the sound of that, "How soon can you start?" I asked.

He chuckled, "Is tomorrow too soon? I don't need no supervision, you just tell me what you want, and I'll get to it."

"Well I'm not planning on killing myself over this thing, I'm going to take as it comes Andy. I'll be here at 8:30 if that suits you."

"Yup, that'll do just fine. Give me and the missus some time for breakfast. Speakin' of the missus. You know, she was serious as death when she talked about them pies. She's excited about that ya know."

I nodded as I contemplated. "That may very well happen Andy. I have a silent partner so things will move along more quickly than if it was just my money. If at all possible, I want that pie shop open this fall. And if it isn't we can probably sell some in the store."

Andy and I spent the rest of that week going through what to keep and what to get rid of. The latter dominated that process. None of the stand-alone coolers were operational and when I checked the specs on the nomenclature plate I knew the best thing to do was get rid of them. All of them used R-12 refrigerant which had been phased out in the mid-90's. What R-12 people still had was outrageously priced. Nah, I'd get newer equipment if we went that route. I contacted a refrigeration company who would take them off my hands at no cost to them. Hell, I didn't care as long as I didn't have to deal with the recycling.

I was sitting in the old store Saturday morning contemplating what I wanted to do and trying to formulate a vision when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Hilda.

Hilda: Hi Rob. Are you busy this morning? The girls don't have soccer this weekend, I thought we might come see you. You can take us to lunch at the Cat's Meow.

Me: Sounds like a great idea. I can show you what's been done and what my immediate plans are. Lunch at the old place sounds wonderful. Have the girls been before?

Hilda: Nope. They've heard me talk about it, but we've never been there together. It will be a treat for them.

Me: What time will you be here?

Hilda: Thirty minutes or so. We're walking to the car now.

By the time they arrived I had enough of a path cleared through the rubble inside that they could walk through without getting hurt or dirty. The girls did a ho hum look around and wanted to go play in the orchard. They apparently take a soccer ball with them everywhere. Hilda would ask questions and I would give her answers to the best of my ability. As we were exiting the building to round up the girls a flatbed semi pulled up with an excavator on the back.

Hilda looked at me. "What's going on? Why are they unloading that digger thing?"

I laughed. "As smart as you are you call an excavator a digger thing. Sheesh. It's here because I leased it for a week to start with. Both tanks are empty. When I expose them the removal crew will ventilate them and cut a hole it each make sure there's nothing remaining. They'll also unhook the pipes once I'm down that far. When they're done I'll take them out and hauled away for scrap."

She looked at me oddly, "You know how to run that thing? Really?"

"It's what I did for 21 years. That and every other piece of heavy machinery. When I contacted people to remove the tanks the guy with the backhoe wanted twenty-five hundred bucks. I leased this thing for the entire week for under a thousand. I'll have to get the ground tested, hopefully it isn't contaminated with fuel."

Once the excavator was off the truck it was my responsibility. I drove it around back of the building, out of sight, out of mind. I didn't need vandals or lookie loos nosing around the machine. By that time the girls were back with us and wanted to sit inside. What they really wanted was for me to start it and show them how to run it. Not a chance. I had their mother to back me up on that decision. On the drive to Clairemont for lunch Hilda asked a very interesting question.

"What if the ground is contaminated? Will that prevent us from having a gas station?"

I raised my eyebrows, "Us?"

She slapped my arm, "Yes us. I'm a partner now. They did the money transfer yesterday. Didn't they at least call you?"

I frowned, "I don't mean to speak negatively but they don't seem to be the sharpest pencils in the drawer. Maybe I should look for a different bank."

With a smirk she spoke loudly, "Ya think? There's a branch of where I bank in Clairemont. Let's get the money moved into that branch next week. It will be easier to transfer funds as well if we need to. Oh look girls. There's the restaurant I was telling you about. The Cat's Meow. Rob and I ate a lot of burgers and fries in that place."

Hilda and I knew exactly what we were going to order. Our old standby, two cheeseburgers with fried onions, an order of fries for her, onion rings for me, a Coke for her and Dr Pepper for me.

Being a teen Grace just had to ask, "Were you two boyfriend and girlfriend in high school. Did you ever, you know, get romantic and stuff?"

Hilda shot her one of those looks only a mom can conjure up and whisper yelled at her.

"Grace Marie you know better than to talk about such things."

I quickly jumped in, "We never went steady or anything like that. We were, and still are, close friends. I had to beat up two boys before she let me sit with her on the bus though."

That got me another thump to the shoulder, "Nonsense." Hilda barked, not very loud, but certainly with authority. "He didn't have to beat those boys up, he was too shy to ask if he could sit with me."

We ordered what we had years before, she ordered chicken fingers for the girls. I gave her a look with my face screwed up. She volunteered an answer to my unspoken question.

"We don't go out to eat much, but it's usually pizza or chicken fingers for them."

On the way back to Goerke's Corner and her vehicle she seemed extra quiet. I eventually broke the silence.

"What's up Hilda? You're awfully quiet."

"Oh, reminiscing, I guess. Why didn't we ever date? Have you ever wondered?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I s'pose I did. But we were friends, close friends and deep down I didn't want to lose that. I watched how the couples everybody thought would graduate and get married wrecked each other's life after they broke up. I didn't want that. Does that answer the question?"

I could tell she was thinking, she turned her head to look at me and nodded. "Yes, I think it does. Ironically, I felt the same way. Even if we never spoke about it. I do have something important to share with you though."

"Yeah, what's that?" I asked.

"Greta wants a picture of you. If you will let me take a picture, I'll send it to her. As a reward she will send a picture of her and the girls in return. Is that something you feel comfortable enough to do?"

I shrugged, "Sure. Why not? If she's as fine as you say she may not like what she sees when she gets a picture of me. I'm not much to look at."

She said nothing after that until we were walking with the girls to her van. The girls giggled as I opened the door for them. I opened the door for Hilda and stood back waiting for her to get in. Standing with the door between us she looked directly into my eyes.

"Rob, if I were looking for another man it would be you. Don't sell yourself short. With Theodore gone I'm married to my career and the girls. They are and will be my priority until they're out of college or tech, or married, whatever they decide."

I looked at her and muttered softly, "I'd wait."

She stepped around the door and gently held onto my arm. "I know you would, but that wouldn't be fair to you or me. I feel good about the possibility of you and Greta getting together. I'll have two of the people I love the most in my life close once more. And, I wouldn't mind being an auntie again."

I gave her a knowing look and said softly, "We're a pair of goofballs aren't we?"

Sliding into the car she turned the key and lowered the window as I closed the door. With a soft chuckle she spoke.

"That we are Rob, that we are. Bye and thanks for lunch. I have a full schedule next week so it isn't likely that I'll talk with you soon. Be on the lookout for an overseas number though. Oh, hey the picture."