Endangered Solitude

By Al Goettig

For years the Mike and Rusty Osborn have relished the solitude of their home in the foothills adjacent to a uniquely beautiful parcel of land known as Meadow Mesa. Then the long-time owner of the Mesa tells them that he is selling and they will have a new neighbor -- a developer.

The developer turns out to be a real scoundrel that will stop at nothing to get what he wants. He also is a smooth talker very adept at misleading others to gain their cooperation.

The developer is very aware that environmentalist groups pay close attention to what goes on in pristine areas like Meadow Mesa. He knows he needs to be extremely careful to avoid any confrontation with them. However he was not aware of the lengths to which they would go to achieve their goals. It takes him a while to realize he was up against an environmental group that prefers to operate in the shadows in order to hide their real motives.

The Osborns are caught in the middle of the conflict between the developer and the environmentalists. They are forced to draw heavily on their determination and resourcefulness to survive the battle between the competing parties.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jul 4, 2005
• ISBN: 9781412237178

Al Goettig

Al was born in Iowa and grew up in a small town in central Illinois. After graduating from the University of Illinois with an engineering degree, he and his wife moved to California to work at the NavyÕs research, development, and test facility at China Lake, and incidentally, to learn to ski! The majority of his career was centered in performing and managing weapons effectiveness studies for the Navy. That involved presenting the best analytical data available in the writing of reports, and assuring that a primary focus was always to eliminate the ÒfictionÓ that tries to sneak into them. He is now retired and enjoys golf and other outdoor activities. Endangered Solitude is AlÕs first attempt at writing a novel where fiction is the primary focus. Writing the book was inspired by simple curiosity about writing fiction and how it compares with technical writing. In addition, there were several actual events that served as fodder for feeding the curiosity about fictional dialog. One thing led to another and eventually there was a completed manuscript.

Book preview

Prologue

The car was slowly proceeding south on Forest Trail road. Fred was driving. Occasionally he would quickly glance up at the road but mainly his eyes were focused intently on the odometer. We’re getting close.

Carl was looking out the passenger side window. Nothing yet.

They were just about to cross a culvert that allowed a sizable stream to flow under the road. Now! Fred said. We should be right on the north boundary.

There’s the fence. Just ahead. Just past those big boulders, Carl said with a tone of relief. That’s got to be the north fence of the Osborn property. See, a fence runs south along the road, too.

Fred slowed even more. Shortly after they crossed the culvert he pulled off on the shoulder of the road.

A little more, Carl said.

Now Fred could see the fence running west and away from the road. He continued on until they were directly in line with it. That checked out pretty well with the mileage you measured on the map. Not bad for a city slicker that’s grown up with street signs.

Carl took that as a compliment. Let’s check out the other end.

Fred pulled back out on the road and they continued on. There were several small signs hanging at intervals on the fence that read NO TRESPASSING. They passed a gate and there was a larger NO TRESPASSING sign. Several hundred feet later they saw another fence running away from the road and toward the ridge to the west.

That would be the south end of Osborn’s, Carl said. Another quarter mile to go.

Fred looked down at the odometer to start measuring the quarter mile. When they had gone the prescribed distance he pulled off the road and stopped. Good thing the easement is at the other end, he said. It would cost a fortune to put an entrance through here.

Carl nodded, This first part is Bureau of Land Management property anyway. I doubt we could get an easement through there.

Fred said, I want to get a first hand look at the upper part. We can’t see anything over the ridge from here.

The map shows a trail that runs across Osborn’s property and then there’s a couple of switchbacks to get up that ridge. Let’s ask…

No way! With all those NO TRESPASSING signs you can tell they wouldn’t be happy about that. We can hike up there without too much trouble. We’ve got plenty of time.

Well, let’s at least go back to the other end. We’d have to play mountain goat to hike in from here.

Fred grinned, Right. He turned the car around and drove back toward the culvert. Just before they reached it, he stopped the car and they both got out.

Those are huge boulders we’d have to deal with, Carl said.

Fred shook his head. Oh, come on Carl. Old tenement buildings are a lot worse to deal with than those boulders would be. Piece-of-cake for some dynamite and a ‘dozer.’ How about the grade up to the main level area?

Steep but I don’t think we’d need a switchback.

You sure? That looks like an awful steep grade for a main entrance.

I scaled it on the topographic map and calculated the grade. The map I was using didn’t have the property lines on it so I couldn’t tell exactly where we’d have to put the road. I scaled it in several places and the grade didn’t change much – It’s close but it should be OK. Maybe cut in a little at the top and fill a little at the bottom. We’d need a bridge of some sort to cross that stream at the bottom anyway. We could start filling there. Different from what we’re used to but then you said you wanted a change.

Fred nodded in agreement, Yeah, OK. Looks like we can leave the car here and hike up to the top.

Carl was not much for physical exercise. If you insist, you’re the boss

It took a while for them to get to the fairly flat area of the mesa. When they did, Fred didn’t know what to say for a while – he just looked around with a huge smile on his face.

Carl was familiar with that smile. He knew that it meant Fred could see there was a lot of money to be made here.

Finally Fred said, "I don’t care how steep that grade is. We can deal with that somehow. I’m gonna get us some prime real estate to develop!

1 – Peace and Quiet

Mike was staring intently through the 10x50 binoculars. A jackrabbit was huddled secretively under a bush about 100 yards off the patio from where Mike was sitting. Earlier, Mike spotted it hopping casually toward the bush. Now his elbows were on the patio table to steady the binoculars.

He noticed some movement about 50 feet farther out. He carefully adjusted the focus on the binoculars to bring that area into sharper focus.

There! More movement.

Ever so slowly a coyote raised its nose to sniff the slight breeze. Then, satisfied that it smelled something of interest, it raised one leg very cautiously and took a small step forward – toward the jackrabbit. Then another step. And another.

Mike was wishing that Rusty could watch the unfolding drama of nature. He took his eyes away from the binoculars and looked toward the patio door.

No Rusty.

He didn’t dare call to her. The sound would undoubtedly scare the rabbit or the coyote – or both. He returned his eyes to the binoculars. The coyote was still in the field of view. He tweaked the focus slightly. The coyote was now only about 30 feet from the rabbit. Mike scanned briefly back to where the rabbit was huddled. It showed no indication that it was aware of the coyote that was now just 25 feet away.

The rabbit twitched one of its long ears.

The coyote stopped in its tracks. After several seconds, it raised its nose to sample the breeze again. Mike couldn’t tell if the coyote could see the rabbit. The rabbit was looking away from the coyote.

The coyote took three more small, cautious steps toward the rabbit.

What are you watching? Rusty said as she stepped through the door. To Mike, the sound of the patio sliding door opening was like a freight train.

The rabbit started running toward the mountains to the west. The coyote was in hot pursuit and seemed to be gaining on the rabbit. The rabbit took a sharp turn and headed for a clump of bushes. The coyote was still gaining. The rabbit went by the first bush and disappeared from Mike’s view. And so did the coyote.

Briefly, Mike saw nothing of either one.

Then, the rabbit came out of the clump of bushes and headed back toward the east. Then the coyote came out of the bushes – still heading west. Rather quickly it slowed to a trot and then – realizing the chase was over – sat down and looked around as though nothing had happened.

It was all over in just a couple of seconds.

Rusty had a tray in her hand. There were two cups of coffee and a plate with several buttermilk bars on it – Mike’s favorite pastry. She was carefully trying to close the patio door without spilling any coffee. Did I miss something?

You saved that rabbit’s skin.

Rabbit?

Didn’t you see the chase?

No.

A coyote was sneaking up on a jackrabbit that was sitting under a bush out there.

A coyote? In the daylight? He must have had a bad night of hunting.

I suppose. If that’s the case, he’s still hungry.

Rusty walked over to the glass-topped patio table and set the tray on it. Help yourself, she said. Then she sat down in the cushioned chair and picked up the morning paper that Mike had placed on the table. Mike admired her trim figure on a 5 foot 6 inch frame as he had done 37 years ago when they were first married. Now, at 58, her auburn hair was graying slightly. As always, the sight of her continued to stir his more primitive instincts. She took the first sip of her coffee and savored the slightly strong flavor. Coffee’s great, she commented as she surveyed the headlines on the front page. Mike had made the coffee before he walked down to the gate by the highway to get the paper.

Mike was surveying the ridge in the foothills off to the west. Occasionally in the morning they would spot either a deer or coyote heading back up in the hills after a night of inspecting the lower valley. No sign of any other critters this morning, he commented as he sampled the coffee.

The paper says that an outfit called EnviroAid just opened an office in Midvale. Didn’t you mention something about them the other day?

Mike thought a second and then said, Yeah, I heard it’s a group that looks into all sorts of environmental situations and helps solve problems if they can. I think some philanthropists sponsor it. Sounds like a good thing to have around if you need them. Does it say why they opened an office here?

No, just that the office opened – one guy and an administrative assistant. The guy’s picture is here – nice looking sort. It says here that they haven’t hired the administrative assistant yet.

Mike set his cup down on the table and headed around the house. I haven’t checked the garden water in a while. I just heard the sprinklers come on. I’m going to check things. I’ll be right back.

Mike wasn’t gone long and Rusty looked up as he came back onto the patio. His shirt had a big wet spot on the left shoulder and chest.

That durn sprinkler head in the far corner, Mike mumbled. It got plugged up again. Someday I’m going to figure out how to get the small pebbles out of the spray slot without getting a shower.

Rusty did a good job of not giggling at Mike’s frustration. That same sprinkler had been soaking him down ever since they put in the garden. He could fix almost anything – electronic, mechanical, whatever – so his frustration with the sprinkler was probably a result of procrastination more than a lack of knowledge. Then she said, The paper says Dave was admitted into the hospital a couple of days ago. You hear anything about that while you were in town?

No. Mike answered. Did it say what the problem was?

No

Dave Polanski was the man who owned Meadow Mesa to the west of Mike and Rusty’s property. He planned to build a small house up there to live in when he retired. Dave was the local jack-of-all-trades and everybody in town who knew him liked him. He made a decent living but never charged enough for his work to accumulate much money.

Meadow Mesa was a beautiful place. It got its name from the fact it was a relatively flat area, as compared to the adjacent foothills – sort of a shelf on the side of the foothills. It was spotted with a number of open areas in the sparse growth of trees. Several good sized streams and numerous small ones meandered across it before they joined together and dropped off the ridge to Mike and Rusty’s property.

The reason Dave was still living in town was that, until he retired, living ten miles out of town wasn’t very compatible with doing the variety of jobs he did on short notice.

Mike brushed at the wet spot on his shirt as if that would help it dry faster. I keep remembering the scare Dave gave us a couple of years ago when he broke his leg. I think he really believed he wouldn’t be able to work anymore.

Yeah. It seemed like he was getting real serious about selling the Mesa to some developers. Remember, I talked to him at the grocery store after he got out of the hospital. All he could talk about was how much that broken leg cost him. That day I think he was ready to sell.

I wonder what changed his mind?

Rusty reached out and picked up one of the buttermilk bars. She broke it in half and placed one of the halves back on the tray. I don’t know. The day that he was talking about selling I suggested that he come out and spend a couple of hours up there before making any final decisions.

Good advice. Maybe that’s what changed his mind.

I was afraid he was becoming desperate to sell. I felt like I had to try something.

It looks like you did the right thing. Mike took the last bite of his buttermilk bar. I’m going to check on the irrigation system." He started down the footpath that went around their 80 acres and passed by all the important points of their irrigation system.

When he got back to the house, he walked into the kitchen as Rusty was heading out the door into the garage. See you later, she said. I’m going to the grocery store and then a bunch of other errands. I’ll probably be back by 2 o’clock.

OK, he replied. See you later.

Rusty backed the Buick out of the garage. She didn’t bother to trigger the automatic door opener to close the door. Then she rather slowly headed toward the east gate.

Mike went out on the patio, sat down and leaned back in the cushioned chair. He was watching a hawk soar effortlessly overhead. A humming bird flitted by on its way to the feeder hanging under the eaves of the house. Mike closed his eyes and smiled. He was so happy that they had bought this property.

He and Rusty loved the solitude and the peace and quiet!

His first thought when he heard a car approaching the house was that Rusty must have forgotten something and came back for it. He looked toward the east gate and saw Dave’s old Datsun pickup coming toward the house. Mike figured Dave was heading up to the Mesa. He often did that if he wasn’t working on a project for someone. He was surprised when Dave stopped and got out of the truck. He had a serious look on his face – unusual for him.

When Dave stepped onto the patio Mike said, Good to see you. Rusty read in the paper that you were in the hospital.

Dave took his hat off and leaned toward Mike so that Mike could see the small area on the top of his head with hair shaved. There was a bandage in the middle of the shaved area. It wasn’t much. I just goofed. I was climbing the ladder to get up on some scaffolding and my foot slipped. That shook the scaffolding and a 4 x 4 fell off and caught me on top of the head. Eight stitches fixed it. They said I had a mild concussion so they kept me in the hospital overnight for observation.

Looks like you’re OK now.

Yeah.

Heading up to the Mesa?

The question seemed to make Dave uncomfortable. He looked down at the patio deck for a couple of seconds. Then he looked up at Mike. Actually I came out to tell you guys what’s been going on.

Going on?

Yeah. Is Rusty here? She might want to hear this too.

She went to town.

I thought that might have been her that I met on my way down here. Well, anyway, I just want to get this over with. I’m gonna sell the Mesa.

Oh no!! Surely you’re kidding?

I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. That’s why I hated coming out here to tell you but that’s what I’ve decided to do.

Who to?

A guy named Langley. Fred Langley. He’s from Sacramento.

What’s he going to do with it? Did he tell you?

Yeah – and you aren’t going to like this either – he’s a developer and he wants to build a bunch of houses up there.

Egad, that is a shock to hear. How did he convince you to sell? You’ve always said you were going to build a place for yourself up there.

Well, I still am. I think that’s what started me thinking a little different about selling. I’m gonna keep five acres for myself.

Oh. Well, at least we’ll still be neighbors.

Dave pointed up toward his head. I think this bonk on the head might have had something to do with it too. I’m not getting any younger. In my business, if you’re hurt you can’t work.

Mike nodded, Yeah, I remember that broken leg a few years ago. You seemed pretty worried then. I guess I knew that some day this would happen. I just kept hoping it wouldn’t be in my lifetime. What kind of a guy is, did you say Langford?

Langley. He seems OK. Likable enough and a real smooth talker. There were times I felt like I wanted to keep my hand on my wallet but I finally decided he was a pretty straight guy.

That’s good. When are you going to complete the sale?

I signed the final papers just before I came out here.

Then it’s a done-deal?

Dave started toward the steps off the patio. Yep. Say I’ve got a job in town that’s half way finished and I need to get it finished before the day’s over. I gotta run. I just wanted to tell you about this first hand. Say hello to Rusty for me.

I appreciate your coming out.

Just as Dave reached his truck, Mike thought of something. Dave!

Yeah.

Did you discuss access to the Mesa with Langley?

Not much. I told him there were some complications with the access. He wasn’t the least bit concerned. He said they had looked into it and it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle.

After Dave left, Mike paced aimlessly around the house. Then, he went outside and walked north from the house. At the top of a small rise about a hundred yards north of the house he stopped and looked back. Sight of the house, patio and garden brought back fond memories. Making the most of their 80 acres with a view of the mountains and the beauty of the other surroundings required all sorts of decisions. It turned out well. The house was a single story ranch style house with the front door on the east side. The attached garage/workshop was on the south with the garage doors on the east side, the patio on the north and the garden on the west side about 30 yards out from the house. There was a short slumpstone fence around the lawn and shrubbery growing on the east and north sides of the house.

Mike stood and gazed for several minutes as those memories flashed through his head. Then he continued on. Eventually he reached the big pond at the base of the ridge near the falls. A group of doves were enjoying drinking from the pond. They flew off when he got close. Mike mumbled to himself, Someday I’ll find out why dove’s wings whistle when they fly. The pond was full this morning and the automatic valve stopped the flow of water down from the falls to a mere trickle. He took several sticks out of the water that had dropped into the pond from overhanging willow limbs. Then he settled his 6 foot 2 inch frame down at the picnic table in the shade near the edge of the pond. His 210 pounds caused the joints in the picnic table to creak. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his short blond hair.

The pond and picnic table were a holdover from the first years they owned this property. When Mike sold the computer store that they owned, Rusty sold the bookstore she developed and they both declared themselves retired. Putting in this pond was one of the first things they did in order to have a constant supply of water for irrigation. During the construction of the house they cooked meals on the barbecue by the pond and ate at the picnic table. They sometimes put up their tent and camped. There were lots of fond memories associated with this pond.

When he got up from the picnic table, he strolled the short distance to the north fence. At that end of their property the nature of the landscape started to change rather quickly. The line of foothills cut sharply to the east and the clumps of trees faded into huge boulders. Putting a fence along the north boundary presented a major challenge. The large boulders precluded there being a straight-line path for it. Finally Mike decided that rather than weave a fence between and around the boulders, he would put the fence about 80 feet inside the edge of the north easement. This allowed him to have a straight fence. Mike hated the thought of having to move the fence if he ever decided he wanted to enclose that last 80 feet of land. The easement to provide access to the Mesa was at the north end of his property. It had been established years ago before Mike and Rusty purchased this parcel. Apparently, the fact that the stream ran through much of it wasn’t a big deal back then. Back then, whenever that was, it was probably no big deal to adjust the course of a stream to accommodate the needs of the people affected.

When he looked north across the fence and toward the easement to the Mesa, he tried to imagine what it would be like with cars coming and going to homes on the Mesa. He wondered what it would be like with several hundred people living where, before, there were only wild critters that were reluctant to be seen. Would the people pollute the stream? Would there be a lot of unpleasant noise? Actually, any noise would be unpleasant. Was their solitude about to end?

2 – Change of Plans

Ouch! Linda said gripping the phone a bit tighter as she was talking. That will change things quite a bit. When do you think we’ll be back on track?

There was an extended response to that question. Linda was not smiling. OK Roy, if that’s the way it has to be then we’ll just have to live with it. Let me know if things change. Linda was distressed. The funding she was planning on would be cut way back. Now she was going to have to rethink the plans she’d made for the next couple of months.

Working for EnviroAid – or EA as it was often called – had been a pretty pleasant experience. She managed to make good use of her education in a way that was personally very satisfying. EA was a ‘different’ sort of organization. It provided a service to others and the service was free. An anonymous philanthropic group supported it for the purpose of educating the public about environmentally sound practices. Linda had an advanced degree in Environmental Science and a minor in Governmental Affairs. She had grown up with the goal of developing legislation to help keep the planet a fit place for humanity to survive. Working for EA seemed like a route to that goal.

Linda had but a single contact with the sponsors of EnviroAid. That was Roy Colton. Roy was the representative or front man for the philanthropists who provided the funding. Oddly, Linda had never met Roy. He conducted a job interview over the phone and hired her at the end of that interview. When she showed up at the office in Sacramento, Stan Duffman, the office administrator showed her around and helped her get organized. Roy and Linda routinely did business over the telephone and while it was not quite what Linda expected, it seemed to work well enough.

There were a few quirks in the system that Linda would like to have changed. Roy relied completely on his answering machine. She couldn’t remember a time he answered the phone without her having to leave a message. He was usually very prompt about returning her calls so she felt she shouldn’t complain.

The business between them revolved around the monthly report. Roy provided funding on a monthly basis into the EA checking account the day after he received the report. It was a compilation of the various field office reports. Those reports included discussion of activities of the office – projects, significant events, etc. – and two lists. The first list identified all of the real estate transactions in the field office’s territory during the month. Each transaction required a comment from the field office manager. He needed to include the location of the property, whether it was environmentally sensitive, the selling price if known, and anything known about the buyer’s intended use. The second list named all the properties up for sale that the officer manager deemed to have some feature that made them environmentally sensitive.

The report was not technically complicated; in fact Linda was a little disappointed there wasn’t more interest in the technical aspects of what she was doing. When she commented to Roy to that effect, he merely shrugged it off as an idiosyncrasy of the group supporting the operation.

Stan, can you come in for a minute? Linda said while pressing the intercom call button.

Be right in, was the reply.

Linda got up from her chair and walked over to the small buffet on the other side of her office. She refilled her coffee cup from the carafe sitting on it. Just as she got back to her chair, the door opened and Stan came in. As always he was carrying his clipboard. The guys around the office often said that that clipboard must be a permanent part of Stan’s left arm. He too had a cup of coffee. He went directly to the small conference table located a few feet to the right of Linda’s desk. After carefully setting his cup down, pulling out a chair, sitting in it and arranging the clipboard and three pencils in front of him he leaned forward in the chair and said, What’s up?

This month’s funding is going to be about 20% less than we expected, Linda said with a look of distress on her face.

Oops! Stan said as he leaned back in the chair, held a pencil between his thumb and first finger, put his elbow on the arm of his chair, tapped his head repeatedly with the eraser end of the pencil and said, That’s gonna hurt!

There was only one other time they did something like this. That time they only held out for one month and then they made up for it. I’m going to assume it will go that way this time too. Figure out a one month cutback plan and then let’s talk about it. Let’s not get anybody excited just yet. Keenan will be affected the most with the new office in Midvale and all that. I think I’ll give him a little warning.

Stan had a distressed look on his face now. I’ll give it a go, he said as he headed for the door. Mid-afternoon OK?

OK. Linda knew Stan would devote as much attention to this as he could. When he finished, they would talk about it.

As Stan reached out for the doorknob he abruptly stopped, turned around and headed for the buffet. He picked up the carafe, opened the hinged lid with his thumb and looked inside. Looks OK, he said. Still hot enough?

It’s fine.

Oh, I almost forgot. Your 10:30 called and said she was going to be a bit late. I told her you had a lunch appointment and wouldn’t have any flexibility about when to leave. OK?

Fine.

When Stan closed the door she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the new Midvale office. Keenan answered. Linda said, Pardon the overworked expression, but I’ve got some good news and some bad news.

When Keenan heard Linda’s voice on the phone it initiated admiring visualizations of what she was doing. He imagined her dressed in a sporty pants suit leaning back in her desk chair with her feet up on the corner of the desk. He also imagined her shoulder length black hair flowing over the back of the chair and her deep blue eyes with a teasing sparkle in them. I’ll meet you half way and listen to the good news, he replied.

If I was willing to do a half-assed job I guess I could let you get by with that.

OK. You must have talked with Roy.

Gee, how did you guess?

Well, it was tougher this time. You said there was some good news too.

He liked your report on that special project.

That’s nice to hear after I busted my buns to get all that data together. Did he mention anything specific?

No.

Do you think he read it?

I’d bet on it. He’s never been so interested in a report as he was this one. For a while there he was calling me about it two or three times a day.

Yeah, you mentioned that before. Hey, that’s more feedback than we usually get. Well, more pleasant feedback anyway. Well, let’s get it over with – what’s the bad news?

Linda swallowed hard. He said we’re not going to get the extra funding we need for you to hire your assistant. In fact, we’re going to have a general cut back in funding.

Oh shit! I thought he was so interested in getting this office up and running!

They’ve had some sort of a setback. That’s all he would say.

Keenan was trying to assess what impact this would have. Is that permanent?

I think he said indefinite.

Is there a difference?

Probably. Actually, this sort of thing happened once before and he made up for it later.

Let’s hope it works that way this time. Any more bad news or have you dumped it all?

That’s it.

Well thanks for calling – and you have a nice day too.

Linda didn’t miss the sarcasm. It reminded her of what she saw him do one time when she was in his office and someone called with bad news. She imagined his dark curly hair bouncing up and down atop his athletic body as he stuck out his tongue at the phone while he was ceremoniously pretending to stomp on it. Ah, the exuberance and productive disrespect of the just-about-thirty crowd. It made for interesting times.

After he hung up the phone, Keenan noticed the report on the corner of his desk. Roy had asked all the EnviroAid offices for the same thing. Each office was to prepare a list of the properties in their area that bordered Bureau of Land Management or Forest Service Property. He wanted a lot of information about each property and then he wanted the list ranked by how interested the government should be in owning each one.

The Midvale area had a lot of properties that met the criteria for being on the list and it had been a monumental task for Keenan to complete. He had just opened the new office, didn’t have an assistant and was new to the area. He picked up the report and had flashbacks of the anguish he went through the last day or so before he finished it. He flipped it open to the page with the rankings. Meadow Mesa was at the top of the list.

3 – A Change of Pace

Have a nice day Mr. Langley, the bank teller said in a perfunctory tone.

You too, Fred replied in an equally perfunctory tone. He turned away and examined the amounts on the deposit slip.

Escrow had just closed on the last house in his most recent development and Fred deposited the remainder of the down payment he received from the escrow office. He could have had it deposited directly into his account but he enjoyed actually holding the money. Even when it was a check, there was something more satisfying about holding it in your hand, looking at the backside, etc. that wasn’t possible with an automatic deposit. Fred wasn’t sure he would ever get used to credit cards and electronic transactions and he took every opportunity to do business hands-on.

When Fred’s wife died 15 years ago from fast-moving pancreatic cancer, he buried himself in his work and focused exclusively on making money. He was good at it. He never had any inclination to remarry – mostly because of his concern that it would take time away from his work.

Now Fred could devote full time to the new project. He’d been anxious to get going on it for some time but the more he looked into it the more he realized that once he started, he would have to move fast. He’d need both time and money to keep things moving. He waited until the current development sold out so nothing would distract him.

His staff, although rather small, was very good at getting things done. A successful contractor has to get things done in a timely manner. They were particularly good at what a lot of folks would call research. Fred called it digging. Maybe a long time contractor and builder could relate to that term better. The new project had taken the direction it had because of lots of digging. Fred made his living developing tracts of houses in the city. He and his staff learned how to spot trends of shifting population, anticipating the locations of the next new shopping malls and how to negotiate with property owners in order to find a deal that would work. For the new project, however, Fred instructed the staff to find property for development that was NOT in the city and would interest upscale buyers. That started the digging with a great deal of enthusiasm – everyone enjoys a change now and then.

His staff located a parcel of land several miles outside of Midvale. It was big enough for 75 to a hundred home sites of 1 1/2 to 2 acres each. Also, from the elevation contours on the maps of that area it looked like most places on the property would have a modest view toward the east. He and Carl had gone to Midvale to check it and then Fred spent several more weeks in Midvale convincing the owner to sell. It cost more than he planned on spending but he was happy with the deal.

Now Fred needed to get established in Midvale on a permanent basis.

Mary, the lady at the New Accounts desk at Citizen’s Bank of Midvale, said with a firm tone, You will have to wait five days before drawing from this account, Mr. Langley. This check will have cleared by then.

Fred, acting surprised said, Oh, but I will be needing to write some checks sooner than that. I’ll need to get established here and it’s so much easier if checks are on a local bank. I only have a few travelers checks left.

I’m sorry sir but we have to wait for your check to clear.

Perhaps if I talk with the manager? Fred suggested.

Mary looked toward the manager’s office. Actually, it was just an area in the corner of the bank with movable partitions outlining an area large enough for a very large desk, two large cushioned chairs, a small couch and a credenza. The top two feet of the partitions were clear allowing the manager to keep a watchful eye on what was going on in the main area of the bank. He’s with someone right now but you can wait over there for him to finish. He’ll want to see this paperwork on your new account. She handed Fred a folder containing his check and the papers she had filled out.

Fred took the folder and went over to the waiting area just outside the manager’s office. He laid the folder on the table and then picked up the copy of the Wall Street Journal. He stood in the waiting area and began reading the paper. Fred could hear voices through, or over, the partitions around the manager’s office just enough to tell they were discussing the terms of a loan but could not make out anything specific. Soon the customer shook hands with the manager and left. The manager looked out toward the waiting area and saw the short stocky man with light brown hair and casual clothes that looked a bit rumpled. He walked out of his office and came over to where Fred was standing.

I’m Franklin Beard, what can I help you with? he said, holding out his hand.

They shook hands.

Fred eyed the carefully dressed man with his usual curiosity about how much the man made a year. Fred Langley. I’ve got a problem that you may be able to help me with.

Let’s talk about it in my office, Franklin said.

They both entered Franklin’s office and Franklin waved his hand toward an empty seat. Franklin walked over to the tray on the credenza. A thermos, packets of powdered cream and packets of sugar, foam cups and plastic spoons were on the tray.

Coffee?

Thanks, Fred replied. Black

Franklin handed Fred a cup, took his own and sat down in the chair behind the desk. Fred reached across the desk and handed him the folder. I just opened an account and Mary said it would take quite a while before I could use the funds, Fred began. I was wondering if there was any way we could speed that up? I’m trying to get set up here in town and it sure helps to have checks on a local bank.

Franklin shuffled through the account application and then came to the check Fred wrote to open the account. The amount of the check was $30,000 written on an account in First National Bank in Sacramento.

Franklin reached to his list finder, moved the slide about one third of the way down from the top and pushed the tab that caused to cover to pop up. He picked up the phone, glanced back at the listfinder and dialed a number.

Milton, this is Franklin Beard in Midvale, he said, I’ve got one of your customers here, Fred Langley, and I’m trying to help him out. He’s opening an account here too and I’ve got his check for $30,000. If you could put a hold on that amount in his account he could be in business today. Any problem?

There was a pause and then Franklin looked down at the check and said, 1329-00772-1801. Fred recognized the number of his account and 1801 was the number of the check.

Another pause.

Yes, $30,000

This time there was quite a long pause. Fred smiled to himself.

Thanks, Milton, Franklin said. If I can help you out just give me a call. He hung up the phone and looked out to see if Mary had a customer at her desk. She didn’t. He picked up the phone again and pushed the button that rang Mary’s phone. When she picked it up, he said, Mary, this is Franklin. We won’t need a hold on Mr. Langley’s account. Mary apparently responded briefly and then he hung up the phone.

You’re all set Fred. Do you mind if I call you Fred? We’re pretty informal here at Citizen’s. Mary will have some temporary checks ready for you in a few minutes. Franklin glanced quickly toward the waiting area. It was empty. Care for some more coffee?

While Franklin was on the phone Fred had been inspecting the pictures on the wall. It looked like Franklin had a very attractive wife and two children – a boy and a girl. One picture had two adults on either side of someone in a cap and gown – probably the oldest graduating from high school. Several of the pictures were of Franklin holding a golf club. Three pictures seemed to be of campsites at various locations.

Thanks, but mine’s still OK, Fred said. Looks like you’re a golfer.

I play at it anyway. Great game if you like frustration. How about you?

I play at it too. Do you have good courses around here?

Just one, Franklin said. It’s a semi-private just southeast of town. You’ll have to give a try.

I’ll do that, Fred responded. He had hoped for a specific invitation for a game.

Franklin changed the subject when he asked, Milton mentioned you are a contractor. Are you going to do some building here in Midvale?

Well, yes. I recently purchased some property and I’m hoping to develop it.

That’s nice. Where did you buy?

South of town.

South of town? There was one recent sale of property south of town that had gotten everyone’s attention. Are you the one who purchased the Mesa? Meadow Mesa it’s called around here.

Yes.

That’s quite an accomplishment. For years Mr. Polanski has been turning down offers for that property.

I guess I just talked to him at the right time.

I guess so. Well, I’d love to work with you on whatever financial arrangements you might need, Franklin said in his best low-key sales tone. Citizen’s tries to focus on what Midvale needs instead of the whole state like some of our competitors.

Glad to hear that, Fred replied. I’ll sure keep that in mind.

Franklin’s phone buzzed. It was Mary on the intercom.

Your checks are ready, Franklin said as he stood up. He moved around the desk and held out his hand. I look forward to seeing you again.

They shook hands. Fred picked up his checks from Mary and left.

Just outside the bank Fred put two quarters into the newspaper machine that contained the local paper and took out a copy. Then he went back to the apartment he had moved into the night before, sat down in the recliner in the living room and opened up the paper.

He turned to the real estate section. He examined the large ads for the various Realtors. They contained brief listings embellished with the catch phrases intended to put the potential buyer’s imagination to work. Near the end of the large ads sponsored by the Realtors was a relatively small ad in a rectangular border that crossed two columns. It simply said, O’Brien Realty – By Appointment. 6614545 His staff said that O’Brien was the person to deal with in Midvale.

Another 15 minutes was all it took for Fred to page through the rest of the paper. When he finished, he folded it and put it on the lower shelf of the table next to the arm of the recliner. He picked up the telephone on the top of the table and dialed 661-4545.

O’Brien Realty. This is Jennifer O’Brien. How can I help you? was the very businesslike voice that answered. It was also in a tone that – if you were thinking along those lines – could be interpreted as suggestive.

Hi. This is Fred Langley. I’m a contractor and I was wondering if you would be willing to give me the Realtor’s tour of Midvale?

Are you thinking of building in Midvale?

Well, yes, I’m thinking about it. Right now I’m trying to get a feel for the Midvale market. I’m from Sacramento and I’ve pretty well finished things there. I thought the best way to get oriented around here was to talk to one of the experts in the area.

Not very original, Jennifer thought to herself. After several seconds of thinking about what she would want to show him, she said, OK, how about tomorrow after lunch, say, 1:30?

Sounds fine to me.

If you’ll stop by my office – I work out of my home – we can take my car. The address is 1344 Oak Knoll Drive.

I’ll see you at 1:30 tomorrow, Fred said, Thanks.

As Fred was approaching the front of 1344 Oak Knoll Drive, three men dressed in suits and ties were walking off the porch. Each had a briefcase. They got into a recent model Mercedes and proceeded down the street just as Fred pulled to a stop. He looked at his watch and realized he was five minutes early. He waited five minutes in the car and then got out and walked up to the front door and knocked. A voice inside said, Come in. Fred opened the door and entered an anteroom with an old fashioned coat tree in the corner to his right. There were two doors – both were open. The room to his left was a normal looking living room and the room to the right was the office of O’Brien Realty.

Jennifer was at her desk writing furiously in a spiral bound notebook. Without looking up she said, Be with you in a minute, Fred. I just need to finish up a few notes while things are still fresh in my mind.

Finally, Jennifer looked up at Fred as she folded her notebook. Her emerald green blouse made her green eyes stand out vividly. She sighed just a bit, stood up and stepped around the desk with her hand held out to Fred.

Sorry to keep you waiting, she said. We can talk in the car, why don’t we get started? She picked up a small stack of papers and her purse and led Fred back out the front door, then down stairs on the side of the porch. Near the bottom of the stairs was a light blue mini-van with O’Brien Realty in small dark blue letters on each of the front doors. She headed for the door on the driver’s side, looked at Fred and motioned toward the passenger side.

After backing the mini-van out into the street and then shifting gears to start forward, Jennifer seemed to relax a bit. You asked for ‘the Realtor’s Tour’ and that’s how we’ll start. Let me know if you start getting bored.

For about an hour Jennifer drove around and pointed out the various sections of town and commented on their development history and the economics of the various developments. She kept talking almost continuously until finally she asked if Fred had any questions.

Where does the ‘royalty’ live? Fred asked. You know, the mayor, the bankers, the lawyers, the doctors.

The ‘royalty’, as you call them, is pretty much spread all over town. She smiled and said, Why don’t I show you where they want to live. She began choosing turns on the larger streets that headed them toward the southeast. She came to a stop in front of two stone pillars, one on either side of the road. There were stone fences running along the road away from the pillars. A brass plaque on the stone pillar on the right side of the road read, Fairway Greens.

Fred shook his head and said, Where on earth did they get that name? To a golfer that would sound like a contradiction in terms! This looks exclusive, can we go in?

They had a ‘residents only’ sign up but I don’t see it now. They are trying to promote really exclusive property and privacy so I usually don’t take clients through here unless there is serious interest. she said questioningly.

There was no doubt in Fred’s mind. Let’s go for it.

The lots in Fairway Greens were carefully interwoven with the 18-hole golf course. Many such developments have the houses so close to the fairways that the golfers hate it. Errant shots are common at all golf courses and golf is not very relaxing if the homes are too close to the fairways. Here, there was generous setback from the fairways. A lot’s position on each hole determined the setback – closer near the tees, farther back near the greens and even farther where drives are likely to impact. Many of the holes were water holes that were adjacent to ponds or required shots over the water. The lots for the homes next to these ponds seemed quite elegant with views that included both the fairways and the water. They could see a dozen or so completed homes and another six or eight under construction.

Just getting started? Fred asked.

Yes. It’s been a bit slow getting under way. Midvale is having a little trouble adjusting to the price range here.

You said this is where the Royalty want to live?

Yes.

They’ll figure out a way to afford it!

Jennifer was driving and didn’t catch the big grin on Fred’s face. She said, I think we’ve pretty well covered the real estate basics of Midvale from my viewpoint. Did we cover what you were interested in?

I think this ought to do it.

When you called, you said you were thinking about building. What kind of homes do you build?

I was thinking of doing a development of high end homes. I was pleased to see that Fairway Greens is moving right along.

Jennifer glanced quickly at Fred