Happy third Monday of May. As with the first two, I am attempting to meet two challenges today. Cee's Fun Foto Challenge—Outdoor Seating, and I've written a new story for the Thursday Doors Writing Challenge. I'm going to get right to it:
Brenda Cox
Bessie O'Hara
Chris Winget and his son Kyle checked into their hotel just before midnight. Kyle had driven the last two-hour stretch.
"I think I've driven more miles on my learner's permit than any kid in history. I hope you're right about my permit being valid in other states."
"Sometimes, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission, son. Besides, you're driving just like it says in the manual—they'll never pull you over. Now let's get some sleep. We have to be at the lawyer's office at nine."
Chris got up first to shower and dress. He let Kyle sleep as long as possible. Before waking him, he went down to the breakfast bar in the lobby and fixed two cups of coffee. Black for himself, light and painfully sweet for his son. Back in the room, he saw Kyle was up. He handed him the coffee as he exited the bathroom.
"I know you could have handled this all over the phone with the lawyer, but I'm glad we made this trip, Dad."
"Sorry you have to miss a couple days of school, but lawyers don't work weekends."
Kyle laughed. "That's half the reason I'm glad we drove over here. Thanks for letting me drive, too. Pennsylvania sure is different than Indiana. I'm not sure I'd ever get used to these hills."
"You might have to. After you graduate, I might move back here." Chris checked the time. "Come on, I spied a little diner last night. Let's get some breakfast before meeting my aunt's mouthpiece."
─●─●─●─
Chris laughed when the waitress brought their meals to the table. Kyle had ordered the special with two eggs, two pieces of bacon, two pieces of sausage, two slices of ham, hash browns, and two pancakes.
"You sure that will hold you until lunch?"
Kyle offered a sheepish grin and a shrug. "So, what's the deal with your aunt? I mean, she's been dead for three years, but here we are, hiring a new landscaper for her house."
"Aunt Bessie was beyond eccentric, Kyle." Chris took a drink of his coffee and pushed his empty plate off to the side. "She was a brilliant woman. A theoretical physicist—respected in the field when very few women were. But she had more than a few quirks. I suppose her wanting to keep the house was one of them."
"You said she played the organ. I'm envisioning her blasting out Inagodadavida, like Gertie Feesh on the Simpsons."
"His father laughed. "Bessie loved playing that organ. She was good at that, too. She always reminded me that, 'Music consists of mathematical principles.' The odd thing was when she played. She'd wake up in the middle of the night and play for an hour before being able to fall back asleep."
"That must have made the neighbors happy."
"Well, I'm hoping one of her neighbors has a landscaper he likes. Otherwise, I'm not sure how to find a good one." Chris finished his coffee. "We should get going. Did you have enough to eat? I can get you a muffin when I pay the check."
─●─●─●─
Chris and Kyle entered the office of McCray Family Law. Chris scanned the simple furnishings, tasteful but inexpensive artwork and a mix of live and artificial plants in the waiting area.
"Just the kind of lawyer Bessie would choose. No fancy trappings, but I bet he knows what he's doing."
Sandra Heston returned to her desk, took the phone off the night service, and greeted the early clients.
"You must be Mr. Winget. Mr. McCray said to bring you in whenever you arrive. Could I get you some coffee?"
"We just had breakfast, Miss…"
"Heston, but you can call me Sandy." Sandy smiled at Kyle. "You look like your father wasn't speaking for you. Would you like some coffee?"
"Yes please, Light and sweet."
"I'll bring it into Mr. McCray's office. I'm sure he'll have some."
The door to Samuel McCray's office was open. The office featured the same tasteful but simple décor. Chris and Kyle settled into the two chairs in front of McCray's desk. After a brief round of introductions, questions about their trip and such, Sandy returned with the coffee and pulled the door shut behind her as she left.
"Thank you for coming to Pennsylvania, Mr. Winget. We could handle this over the phone and email, but face-to-face is so much easier."
"Please, call me Chris. It's no problem, Sam." Having extended the offer of informality, Chris took it as well. "I wanted to stop at Bessie's house and check on things. Plus, I'd like to see some properties the landscaper takes care of."
Sam pulled a sheet of paper out of a folder on his desk. "This should help. I prepared a list of the larger services in the area."
"Thanks. I'm hoping to find one that a neighbor uses. Maybe that way, I'd find out sooner if there's a problem. I guess I shouldn't say 'problem'. I mean, the poor fellow died."
"That's a good idea, Chris. As for the rest of the estate, things are going well. The home maintenance firm we hired did have to replace the heating and hot water systems last fall, but their price was reasonable, and the Building Inspector said their work was top-notch."
Chris nodded. "Frankly, I was glad to see they switched to an on-demand hot water system. It's nice not worrying about a forty-gallon tank decaying. Speaking of the future, Sam. How are her assets doing? The reports look promising, but they aren't the easiest things to read. Bessie's desire was to keep that house 'going', as it were, forever."
"Your aunt chose her investment firm well. Her portfolio has grown considerably, even with the expenses we've incurred. It's amazing."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, Bessie didn't take care of the house all that well. You must remember, we had to replace the roof, take down a couple trees and replace the storm door after she passed. Yet, her investments are funding the upkeep, paying for a neighbor's tuition and," Sam looked over at Kyle, "your tuition is already in a separate account waiting for you to be accepted."
Chris smiled at his son. "If you recall, Sam, not that long ago Wall Street investment firms were hiring theoretical physicists to build their algorithms. Bessie focused on what she understood and found experts, such as yourself, to handle the rest. Is there anything I should know? Anything else that needs to be taken care of while we're here?"
"Other than the weeds getting out of control, we've only had one complaint, and it's an odd one. The neighbors on the right, as you face the house, say they still hear organ music during the night sometimes. Maybe you can check on that."
"We will. Probably a power surge. Was he very upset?"
"His son is the one attending school courtesy of your aunt—he's not going to complain too much. Besides, I didn't get the impression it happened often."
They left the lawyer's office with Kyle behind the wheel. His dad was giving him directions. He told him to slow down as they got close to Bessie's house.
"It's the house with the stone retaining wall. Her driveway is on the left. It's steep and narrow, so be careful."
Kyle's eyes widened. "You gotta be kidding me. Can't I just park on the street?"
"There's plenty of room. We should save the street in case a landscaper wants to visit. Go slow, so you don't bottom out on the sidewalk."
After Kyle parked the car, he shook his head in amazement. "Why would someone buy a house on a lot like this?"
Chris laughed. "They didn't. When John O'Hara bought this house, the lot was larger and less steep. It went out to where the yellow dividing line is. The state widened this road after John passed away. They took the land by eminent domain. John would have been pissed, but Bessie said it was that much less to mow."
"I hope the landscaper has some strong hedge clippers, Dad. This entrance is a bit overgrown."
"Bessie loved this arbor. I hope he can trim it back without killing it."
The entry door opened into the living room. The furniture was all in place, covered by drop cloths, except for the organ, which was uncovered, but free of dust. Chris walked over to the Hammond M-100 organ. He turned the organ on and played a bit of the hymn Bessie taught him—How Great Thou Art. The sound shook the house.
"Aunt Bessie played the organ at our church. She tried to teach me to play. As I recall, there are a bunch of ways of controlling the volume." He scanned the keyboard. "The volume drawbars are out pretty far." He pushed them in and played again. "That's better, but I think, yeah, here it is, there's a volume mode switch." He set the switch to soft and played again. "Much better."
"Dad, who's playing the organ? I mean, such that the neighbors would complain."
Chris laughed. "I'm sure no one is playing the organ. This thing was built in the sixties, at the beginning of the electronic age. Maybe the power fluctuates, and it comes on by itself. If that happens now, these settings will let the neighbors stay sleeping."
"Speaking of neighbors, I think someone is coming through the jungle canopy."
Chris had left the door open. Bob Wembley and his son knocked as they walked in.
"Hi, you must be Bessie's nephew, Chris. I'm Bob Wembley. This is my son, Steve."
"Nice to meet you, Bob. This is my son, Kyle. We're here to find a new landscaper. I thought I'd check things out."
"Bessie and I used the same landscaper before he died. I could have my new guy take care of this place."
"That would be great, Bob. Tell him to bill McCray Family Law." He handed Bob one of Sam McCray's cards.
"I know the number."
"Ah, yes. The organ. Sorry about that."
"Well, I can attest to the fact that it's still working." Bob laughed. "It's not really a bother, it's just that, when it wakes me up, I realize I have to pee."
Both boys rolled their eyes.
"The organ's volume controls, other than the pedal, were all set pretty high. I was telling Kyle, the only thing I can think would cause it to 'play' would be the power going off and on, but I set them lower just in case."
"I might just be dreaming or imagining the sound, Chris. I have many years of memories of your aunt wailing on that volume pedal at two a.m. But I don't think it's a power failure. She had a generator installed, and it's still being serviced."
"That's crazy, but consistent with her desires. She wanted it to look like she is still here."
Bob shook his head. "It seems like she is still here. She didn't venture out much—always a homebody. That room over there was the only one that was lit up at night. It still is sometimes. Lights must be on a timer."
Chris walked through the kitchen into what had been the dining room, but was filled with modern computers and other electronics. "This must be why she had the generator installed. I think this is all she ever cared about. I know she wasn't using the equipment in that room." He laughed as he pointed back to the kitchen.
Steve Wembley laughed. "That's for sure. I worked at a restaurant down the street for a few years. She ordered takeout from there most nights. I used to deliver it. She would be in this room, working on some program."
"Bessie said you were interested in the same stuff as her. Is that what you're studying at school?"
"I'm trying to. I wish she was still around to help."
Kyle was walking around the room, looking at the equipment. "Dad, this stuff is still running. The monitors are off, but I can hear the fans." He reached over and toggled the large monitor in front of the most accessible keyboard. The monitor woke to a lock screen.
"I can shut this down from here, Dad, but I'm worried that something might be running."
"Running? What could be running that would still matter?"
"Her username is 'Bessie'. Maybe she had a simple password as well. Do you know her birthday?"
Steve walked over. "I saw her log in a few times. The password was longer and more complex than a birthdate. I figured it out once while she was typing. I'm not sure I remember, but…"
Chris waved him toward the keyboard. He tried variations of the phrase he remembered. Substituting a few numerals for letters did the trick.
"Strogan0ff2G0 – That was her favorite meal. I delivered that here two, sometimes three nights a week."
The lock screen cleared. There was one large window open on the desktop. The background image looked like a butterfly. A title in the upper left corner identified the image as 'Caldwell-69' and credited NASA's Hubble telescope. Along the bottom edge was a message and a single button. The message read:
"Welcome to my gateway. When you're ready, press the button."
All four men stood back and looked at each other. Chris broke the awkward silence.
"I think we should turn the monitor off and let this thing go back into sleep mode."
Bessie O'Hara's monitor. Press if you dare.
Remember, the photos are from the archive. I couldn't resist including Maddie. She loved sitting outside more than anything.
A few curves in the benches
OK, it's not a stadium view, but it's not 97°f (36°c) either.
Milan Pulskar Stadium - 60,000 seat home of Mountaineer football
Having grown up watching games in Forbes Field and then suffering through games at Three Rivers Stadium, I can't tell you how happy I was to visit PNC Park.
On top is the press box. The center doors are the Pittsburgh Baseball club (where we try to get tickets)
They've moved the bleachers back into place for viewing Little League baseball.
Frosty bench. We won't be sitting here.
There were a number of these benches along the canal side of the path.
We've been sitting on the Maddie-pattie since I put the bench back out.
For some reason, Maddie decided to try the Editor's bench as a place to sit.
Skate Bench
My niece's bench
Sadly, it's usually adults sitting on this bench.
Maddie's checking out the benches
I had to add this short video from Simpsons (it's only 90 seconds).
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