Oregon Coast Ch. 02

"I'll use it, never fear!"

And I did. I had laughed at Brian for totally losing his head over a woman, and now I found myself doing the same thing. Lydia was the smartest, funniest, and sexiest woman I had ever met, and I felt like every moment I wasn't with her was wasted. Fortunately, she overcame her prejudice against rich guys and appeared to feel the same way about me. I still had that nagging voice in the back of my head, though: I loved her, my family loved her, but was it me or my family name and money that she loved? I sure didn't have any reason to doubt her, but I had been wrong before.

Things progressed to the point that Lydia's parents were bugging her about why they hadn't met me, and we decided it was time to get it over with. She had mentioned that they lived in Seattle, 150 miles up the freeway from Portland, and we picked a weekend and headed up that way. I was a little surprised when we got near there and Lydia directed me off onto the I-405 freeway that loops through the suburbs east of Lake Washington to rejoin I-5 north of the city. We got off the freeway in Bellevue, and she kept directing me west until we passed the city limits sign for Medina.

Medina, strictly speaking, is not Seattle. Medina is to Seattle what Beverly Hills is to LA: a small, independent town in the middle of the metropolis where the very rich live, on the eastern shore of Lake Washington across from Seattle proper. Medina is houses that get written up in Architectural Digest, yachts tied up to the front yard, and privacy strictly enforced by an oversized and well paid police force that can't afford to live in the actual town. Medina is where Bill Gates bought three adjoining lakefront houses and tore them down to build his mansion.

"Uhh... Lydia? Is there something you haven't told me?"

"Turn in here."

We turned into a small, unmarked driveway through thick woods and went down a hill until it opened out into a huge, manicured lawn fronting a classic clapboard Old Seattle mansion that backed onto the lake. It came complete with a dock with a shiny yacht tied up to it. Northwest reverse ostentation: you keep your driveway small and unmarked, people who have a reason to visit your house know how to find it and no one else can tell from the road that anything's down there. I tried again.

"Lydia? What's going on here?"

"I told you that Dad works in software? When he was fresh out of college he hired on to a small company with about 75 employees. They did pretty well."

"Microsoft."

"Yep. Dad owns about 1% of the company."

I thought back to the last statement I got from my stockbroker, did a rough calculation, and gasped. To her father the price of a house like this was pocket change. It's a familiar story in Seattle: software geeks who got in on the ground floor, took their compensation in stock options, and became incredibly wealthy when the share price took off. Bill Gates is the biggest example, but there are hundreds of others.

"Why didn't you ever tell me this? Why do you share a house in Northeast Portland with a bunch of other girls and teach high school English?"

"Why do you go to work every day when you don't need to? Why do you drive a pickup instead of a Mercedes?"

"Because I want to do more with my life than be idle rich."

"Well, so do I."

I shut up. That was a big pill to swallow, and I had some rethinking to do. Besides, people in the house had noticed our arrival.

One look at her mother and I knew where Lydia got her good looks. Her mom was obviously comfortable as a blonde in expensive clothes, but had Lydia's natural kindness and sense of humor.

"John? So your Caroline's son?"

"One of them, yes. You know her?"

"We've met a few times at regional DAR conferences. She's a lovely woman."

Mom privately considered the DAR a bit of a joke, but stayed with it because the women in our family always had.

Her dad was another story. One look and you knew that college football had been the high point of his life.

"Hi, Princess! Still dying your hair black, I see? Why the hell does a natural blonde want black hair? And why can't you find a decent stylist? John, don't you think she'd look good as a blonde?"

Even if I privately agreed with him, no one gets my help to insult my girl.

"She looks great to me any way she wants to style her hair, sir. Why, are you an expert on women's hairstyles?"

I hoped the implied challenge to his machismo would sting, but it didn't slow him down.

"And those clothes! Didn't you get the no-limit Nordstrom's card I sent you? Where do you get that stuff?"

"I got the card, Daddy. Didn't you get the notes and pictures from my twelfth grade girls who couldn't afford prom dresses?"

That shut him up for a while. It started up again over dinner, though.

"So you're Caroline's boy? Fine woman. What does she think about you dating a Goth or whatever it's called?"

"Well, sir, she was a little startled until she got to know Lydia. You know Mom teaches seminars in English Lit at Reed once in a while? The conversations she and Lydia get into about sixteenth century poetry sail right over my head, but they have a great time together. She told me the other day that I would be an idiot to lose her."

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. Maybe the thought that someone like Mom, who both he and his wife obviously admired, thought so highly of Lydia made him rethink his critical attitude. I hoped so, anyway.

"So you work in your family's timber business?"

"Yes, sir. I'm working on developing alternatives to clear cutting and road building that allow us to thin out the forest and keep it healthy while still making enough money to keep it in timber production."

"Helicopters, you mean?"

"We've experimented with that, but the operating costs are pretty high and with fuel prices up and timber prices down it won't pencil out. Lately we've been trying blimps."

Well, this is what I do for a living, and I can talk about it for hours if someone's willing to listen. People don't realize that owning private timberland has ongoing costs, especially if you want to do a good job of keeping it healthy. If it isn't making enough money to cover those costs, it gets sold to developers and subdivided. The key to keeping it safe for endangered species is to make it pay its own way. That's where my unit comes in.

We kept the talk on business for the rest of the evening until eventually everyone went to bed. I was given a room at the far end of the house from Lydia's, without being offered a choice in the matter. I wasn't going to go sneaking around like a high school kid and embarrass Lydia. As always, though, Lydia thought for herself.

I was sound asleep when the bed shifted under me. I felt a warm body slide under the covers and woke up fully.

"Lydia?"

"Shhh. Who were you expecting? I wanted to talk."

She wiggled on top of me, folded her hands on my chest, and propped her head on her hands. Classic Lydia talking position. I kissed her nose.

"Just talk?"

"We'll see. I appreciated the way you stuck up for me and put Dad in his place. He loves me, but he can't understand why I don't want to be a trophy wife hanging around the country club. You're my hero for today."

"I think you're terrific the way you are. So if I remember my bedtime stories right the hero gets the girl?"

"I just snuck into your bed naked, you dork! I'd say you've already got the girl!"

I ran my hands up and down her body, conveniently sprawled on top of me. Sure enough.

"I knew something felt right. I'm sorry your dad can't see how great you are, but at least now I know why you hated me on sight."

"You seemed like the type of guy Dad has been trying to set me up with since I turned sixteen. I moved to Portland to get away from all that. Sorry I treated you so badly."

"All's well that ends well. Forget it."

"So the way I remember the story, the hero gets the reward."

"What kind of reward?"

"You'll find out if you shut up!"

I shut up. A half hour later Lydia was back propped on my chest, and I was feeling very well rewarded indeed. I kissed her nose again.

"You have any dragons you need slain? Villains conquered? I could get used to this hero business!"

"I don't know any villains, and dragons are on the Endangered Species List now."

"I guess Mom skipped over that reward part of my bedtime story."

"Mmmm, I wonder why? It's my favorite part! Did she really say that about me?"

"Well, actually..."

I waited a few seconds, feeling the tension in her body.

"She said that you're a huge improvement on the usual flakes and floozies I bring home, and if I let you get away I'm dumber than Dave."

She poked me in the ribs, the tension suddenly deflating.

"Creep, making me nervous like that! What did you say?"

"I said you weren't getting away if I could help it."

That got me a long, warm kiss.

"So why do you guys always pick on Dave? He can't be that dumb if he runs the company computer systems."

"He's actually a genius. He just doesn't have the common sense God gave a goose. Anyway, I've been thinking about that whole not letting you get away thing."

She slapped a hand on my chest.

"Hold it right there! If you're headed where I think you are, do it right! I want to tell my students a story that's romantic, not X-rated!"

"Is that a yes?"

"You'll never know unless you do it right!"

So I took her for lunch and a walk at Carillon Point the next day and did it right with the whole "down on one knee" thing. Of course she said yes. Even her father was impressed for once, not that I gave a tinker's damn. We picked her out a diamond ring and headed back to Portland full of new plans.

We held hands most of the way back, with hers resting on top of mine on the gear shift. She kept studying the new ring on her finger thoughtfully. It was classic Lydia: not huge or flashy but absolutely perfect quality in a 1930s Art Deco setting. Finally she spoke.

"So what took you so long?"

"How's that?"

"I would have said yes a long time ago. I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to pop the question!"

Being less than honest would have been a bad start to our life together.

"My whole adult life I've been pursued by women who were attracted to my name and money, and some of them damn near caught me. I guess I never believed I would find a woman who liked me just for me."

"And once you realized that my family already has more money than yours and I don't care about it, the only possibility left was that I was honestly in love with you?"

"I guess so. Makes me sound pretty stupid when you put it that way."

"I should be insulted, but I put you through a lot when we first met because of my preconceptions too. Like you said, all's well that ends well."

"I sure like where this is ending."

"Ending? We're just getting started!"

And of course she was right. Mom and Jennifer were thrilled to have another beach wedding to organize. I finally asked Jen why she was looking so smug.

"I knew you'd never fall for a girl who was impressed with you, and I knew Lydia wasn't impressed with guys like you. All I had to do was keep pushing you together until both of you realized that under the surface you're perfect for each other."

"You're lucky I didn't catch you at it earlier. That girl was driving me up the wall! All I can say now is thanks."

"You told me to give Brian a chance, and look how that turned out! I'd say we're even."

She absent mindedly rubbed her tummy for the third time since we started talking.

"Jen, does that mean what I think it does?"

"Shhh, I don't want it public just yet!"

Jennifer looked more beautiful than ever as the matron of honor, with her bump starting to show and her face glowing. Brian was even more crazy about her, which I wouldn't have thought possible, but he walked me through the ceremony in good order. Lydia decided that she didn't need to rebel any more and went back to being blonde, although no one's ever going to mistake her for a "country club airhead"- she still prefers her Doc Martens to high heels! We finally built a house next to Brian and Jennifer's, and the girls seem to always be together in one house or the other. The other day little Brian pointed over there and told a visitor "That's my other house" and we all cracked up. Dad sometimes makes grumpy noises about Mom spending all her time with her grandbabies, but the truth is he's just as thrilled as she is. As usual, Lydia was right when we got engaged: the fun was just starting!