Laura's Big Win, Page 2

Chapter Two - Mary, In The Beginning

  As things turned out, the commitment ran a little over the eight weeks they had planned. At the end of the spring quarter, Ryan and Mary enjoyed two graduations and a wedding all in the same week. After a two week honeymoon traveling about the globe, they returned to home base and started looking to the future. Mary was aware that he was ambitious to a point, less for the personal wealth he would gain than for the challenge of the project, and she enjoyed wrestling with the data to see how they could work things out. It was not unusual for them to be up at all hours working on something, but the important thing was that they were together and they enjoyed each other to the max. When he became be too serious, she would poke fun at him, and where her data became boring, he knew just which rib to tickle to get a wrestling match started. They were a duo to reckon with. One of the late nights Ryan had been scanning the internet looking for real estate potentials, maybe a place they could take over or buy out, and convert into a really exclusive business oriented resort with all the A/V, IT, and every other gadget modern business needed to function, combined with tight security. One thing they had not looked for was a home since they had agreed they would take five years to work out their wild ideas, then settle down for the long haul; couple of kids, and probably a pet or two to fill up the house.

  "Mary, look at this place for sale in some burg called Conyerville. It's an old family estate the heirs want to get rid of. Come see. I think we should go take a look. What do you think?"

  "Wow, it has everything. Are you sure we can swing the deal? It looks huge, even has a golf course attached to it, and at least in the pictures it doesn't look like it needs a lot of work. What are they asking? Oh, okay, I see the price. God, that's all? Are they crazy?"

  "No. I'd say they're spoiled brats who have no idea what a gold mine they have on their hands. All they see is an old building from which they want to get some money, then go down the road. People like that have no vision, no sense of the possible. Think we should take a look see?"

  "Yes. I can get us a letter of credit in the morning. Do we have any hours left on the Gulfstream?"

  "Enough hours to get us there and back. I'll call up the schedule, and if it's clear, I'll e-mail the pilot now so he gets it first thing in the morning and we can make the run."

  The Conyerville airport was a rather nice field, albeit a little small, and didn't see many planes like the charter Gulfstream that came rolling in. Worse, there was only one rental car left, or as Ryan surmised later, maybe one car was all they had. Regardless, they made their way to the place called Windmere and met with the realtor. He seemed a little reluctant to be there, as though he thought maybe these kids were simply a waste of his time. He quickly learned it was not a fool's errand when the questions came rapidly, on point and in depth: taxes, utilities, easements, any liens, any problem with neighbors, current zoning and could it be changed without too much difficulty later, police protection, fire protection, any plans for airport expansion, local workforce availability, and so on it went for several hours. Both Mary and Ryan took copious notes and shot dozens of photo's inside and out of the house, carriage house, cottages, golf course club house and potential for a pro shop. Quick estimates were drawn up of the remodel and repair work needed, and refinishing of surfaces; the utilities were marginal and the air conditioning units were showing tell tale oil seepage around the gaskets. All told, it would be a substantial renovation project, but it was within range. Ryan suggested they retire for a late lunch, then meet in the realtor's office with the owners; there was no sense, he said, in the realtor taking offers and running back and forth between the parties when they could do this eyeball to eyeball and see where things shook out. The realtor was indeed grateful since he was not accustomed first of all to dealing with people like this, or property like this, and the owners were, as Ryan surmised, spoiled brats who were difficult to deal with at best.

  Over lunch, Mary and Ryan planned their strategy, good cop/bad cop, and nailed down all the numbers they would need. That done, they discovered the food they had been mildly ignoring was rather good, and home baked pie even better heated, with vanilla ice cream on top. And Ryan noted as they paid and left a generous tip that it was a curious fact that the cook's name was Cook, Doris Cook. He'd have to remember to dine there again if the deal went through.

  And go through it did. Meeting face to face, the heirs were no match for Ryan and Mary; every counter offer was countered lower and documented, leaving no doubt about who was really in charge of the negotiations. But finally, they decided their time per hour was worth more than they could gain per hour of negotiation, and they made a last offer, payable in cash, right then. To say the realtor was stunned when they made one phone call and transferred the entire purchase price was a significant understatement. The heirs were left with enough after the negotiations that they could enjoy it for a few years before it was squandered; Mary and Ryan found themselves with a project level to the top of their heads and couldn't wait to get started. It would be a long haul the first year, although the final price was well within their reach and their financing would cover nearly two years of renovations, if it took that long. Ryan still commuted to consulting jobs, taking Mary along when possible. After a long year of hard work, including much of their own sweat, Windmere got a new ornate sign at the front entrance and a power security gate that could crush a small car. With things well in hand, and bookings starting to pick up, Ryan suggested in passing one day that the small stand of woods off to the side of the main drive had a clearing large enough for a house. Up until that time, they had been living in adequate quarters in the main house, working all hours, and enjoying each other, but Mary quickly picked up on where Ryan was going with the house idea.

  "Yes, I think maybe it's time. But I want to build exactly what we want, so don't be in a hurry. First of all, I have a basic idea what I want, but what it really comes down to is how many bedrooms and bathrooms. Wild guess?"

  "Yes. Five and six. Maybe seven. I mean, suppose your mother comes to visit; we'd need at least one bathroom just to store her curlers. And ?."

  Mary had lunged at him, bowling him over and jamming a finger into his ribs. "Make comments about my mother will you? Take that, and that, and Oh God?."

  Ryan had retaliated by rolling her in his arms and legs and had her totally helpless while he nibbled on an ear. The planning resumed later in the afternoon, and it did include five bedrooms and seven bathrooms, although Ryan could not be specific as to why. He just said that seemed like a nice number for some reason or other, but that if the house was designed right, they could add a room or two later and it would still all blend together. The basic plan would be two story frame, with the first floor arced so the kitchen, breakfast room, dining room and great room were all one open space, but the kitchen would be out of sight from the great room, and mostly out of sight from the main dining room. The bedrooms would be cantilevered over the great room so the access balcony would have visibility into the great room but the bedrooms themselves did not. Mary dove into the project, but it was always their project, not just hers or his.

  Almost a year later, and without the loss of any large trees, the house had taken final shape before them, complete with some antique appurtenances they had discovered in their travels, such as the double door entrance with stained glass sidelights they had discovered in a house about to be demolished in New England. The house had run a tiny bit over budget according to Mary's numbers, by a large 30% according to Ryan's numbers, but Ryan's attitude was that money in the bank wasn't food, or shelter, or warmth, and brought him no happiness; spending for the house did bring him happiness if for no other reason than the smile it brought to Mary's face. For that alone, price was no object, although they were hardly breaking their bank with the revenue they were seeing. Furnishings took months to acquire, carefully selected piece by carefully selected piece, and only two of the bedrooms were furnished with very specific items, although one of the oth
er bedrooms was comfortably furnished to be a guest room. The main bedroom was a work of art, complete with a work alcove with all the bells and whistles and connections, huge "his" shower and an equally sized "her" bathing room, king sized bed, and a massive flat screen television on the wall that could be fed a multitude of signals; there was even a balcony over the porta cochere with sliding doors to enjoy the evening breeze, and a table with a couple of comfortable chairs for reading or maybe drafting some piece of an idea. The second bedroom started to acquire furnishings for very small occupants, although no specific traditional color pattern was developed. Mary decided the colors would be neutral so there could be no gender bias, although Ryan reminded her that he was very gender biased, particularly for her gender and all the things she brought with her.

  Move in day included a staff party, house tour, all the good things that come with a completed project; everyone was impressed with the noted transitions in the house, from the more farm house style large kitchen through to the more ornate and staid great room. Even in the formal great room there was a diversity of furnishings, at once tasteful and refined, while retaining comfort as a primary goal. It was a house to be lived in, a home, and the homeowners were delighted both with the final results and with themselves.

  "There's just one more thing we need, maybe two." Mary noted later that night. They had finally retired for their first night in their beautiful bedroom after a long day, and with the lights out had opened the cover on the expansive skylight to look at the stars.

  "I'm not sure the budget can stand just one more thing, but for you, anything my love. Could I go slay a dragon or something, just so it doesn't involve having to get out of bed now that I'm all warm and comfortable with your cold feet all over me." Ryan responded.

  "Nope, no dragons. And you don't have to get out of bed. In fact, that would sort of ruin my plan. I stopped taking any birth control meds two months ago. Wanna play baby roulette with me?"

  "You know, I thought something was up. You've been a little different the last few days, and I like it. Sure, I'll play. Any instructions?"

  "Shut up and use Braille."

  In a fairy tale they would have lived happily ever after, but as the months went by and there was no pregnancy, they started looking for reasons, never blaming or accusing, always as two people with one life and one goal. Testing didn't seem to rule anything in or out for either of them, although one doctor did say he knew something was wrong but just couldn't quite identify what he was seeing. And then there was the tired feeling Mary seemed to get from time to time, although she always gutted it out as was her nature. They still had a thriving business to run and she had every intention of doing her full share until other duties called. It was during one of those tired spells that Mary decided to go from the office area to the house to lie down a bit, not something she ordinarily did but today things just seemed to be a little worse. Coming back from an errand, Ryan asked her whereabouts, then went to the house to see how she was. It was then he found her comatose, and the run to the hospital was on. Again no one could seem to find the problem and Ryan pulled out all the stops. Calling people with the right contacts, they flew to Minnesota for a consult, and wished they had not gone; at least now they knew what they were dealing with. The oncologists simply said there was no radiation, no chemo, no nothing that would even slow down the tangled entrenched tumor in her brain, that the end was inevitable and not too far distant. They could prescribe pain medication, but were otherwise helpless. They were also quick to point out that it would have made no difference if the tumor had been discovered sooner; it's malignant nature and fast growth made it a killer without equal as cancers go. Worse still, there was no surgery for removal or even reduction because of the way it grew in the brain cells.

  Ryan and Mary returned to their beautiful house, with a full time nurse, and a lot of prayers. Mary often sat up in the recliner when she had the strength, watching the beauty of the wildlife around the house, and she would not let Ryan hang around but made him continue functioning. Joking about it, she chided him that he might even have to learn how to run the washing machine after all, something he actually could do, but avoided when at all possible. Thoughts of children were gone. And then one evening, while Ryan held her hand and watched her as she slept, Mary's spirit left, and with it a sizeable piece of everything he had come to care about.

  Ryan awoke with a start. His mind told him he had just heard Mary talking to him, saying "I have to go now, my time here is over. Remember that I will always love you. Please don't live your life alone; you're a good man, the best, and somewhere there is a good woman who needs you very much. Do this for me, my love. Goodbye." For a long time he would be unsure if what he thought he heard was real or not, but he did know Mary was gone and he was in severe pain. She would be laid to rest three days later after a procession of mourners had filed by and stayed near for hours, maybe not so many in numbers, but a multitude in the outpouring of emotional loss. One of the things they had discovered in building the house was a small private cemetery on the grounds in an adjacent clearing; there Mary would rest in the sunlight, with an American Beauty rose at the headstone, for she truly was that. For his part, Ryan kept himself contained as was his nature, but he moved back into the apartment and ordered the house closed with no one to go there; the hedge was allowed to grow until it all but obscured the house from his sight. Work became his refuge, and as the staff grew at Windmere, he traveled more and more, trying to escape the memory.