My advice to all: Live simply, love generously, care deeply, and speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.
Nudist Camp Vacation Chapter 39 -- The Warning Morning came far too quickly for my liking. When the alarm went off, I was comfortably spooned into Tim's nicely shaped backside, dreaming about what we'd been doing all night. After I beat the alarm into submission, I rolled back against him, putting my hand on his chest, pulling him against me and sighed. Tim's essence was intoxicating, and I was addicted. I nuzzled my nose into his hair and he moaned in response. "I love you," I softly whispered, not knowing or caring if he could hear. He rolled to face me and pulled me into a tongue tangling kiss. When he finally slid past my mouth to my ear, he whispered, "I love you, too." His promise sent tingles through me all the way to my toes as well as a surge of blood to my crotch, making my manhood ache for attention. I reached down and gently cradled his morning erection. "Mmm," he murmured. "He's a little tender this morning, and so's my backside," he slurred with a smile. I chuckled as I loosened my grip on his hard phallus and cupped his nuts, rolling them in my fingers. "I don't wonder, after last night." "And this morning," he added, sleepily but happily, moaning softly at my manipulations. "Mmm," I agreed. As I luxuriated in his tender skin and morning smells, I felt his body stiffen. "Tim?" I asked softly, "What's wrong?" He pointed across the room, directly in his field of vision. Glancing over by the highboy dresser, I saw a faint haze, a sort of fog. As we watched, it slowly took the shape of a standing figure. "What is it?" I whispered. "Robert," he breathed in wonderment. I looked at the form again. It seemed to be struggling to keep its form. "Robert?" I asked, directing my question to the foggy figure. "Danger," he whispered. "What danger?" I asked. "Danger," it whispered again as it faded and disappeared. We lay there for several minutes in stunned silence. "What do you think he meant?" I asked. "Are you sure it was Robert?" He nodded, still staring across the room. "He was trying to warn us about something, but what could it be? Do you think he meant today, or soon?" Tim shook his head. "I don't know. He was trying really hard to tell us something, but he didn't have enough energy." We lay there with my arms around Tim while he absently stroked the hair on my arm until it felt raw. "That was really weird," I said. "Don't make fun," he said with a touch of irritation in his voice. "Something's going to happen." "I'm not making fun, but we don't know much, do we? He told us that there would be danger, but danger from what and when?" "I don't know!" he said. "Robert was trying really hard to warn us, but he couldn't tell us anything more!" "Shhh," I hushed and stroked his hair. "Don't get angry. I'm just trying to point out that we don't know what or when this danger will occur. We take risks every day of our lives, just getting out of bed in the morning. We can't go around being afraid to step on cracks, or we'll end up too afraid to carry on our lives." "It must be pretty important for Robert to try so hard to warn us." "You're right, but until we know more, we'll just have to be more careful." "Yeah," he breathed, and held my arm tighter. I sat up over Tim, rolling him toward me. "You can't let this bother you." He had tears in his eyes. "He's very concerned about you. He told me to love you and care for you." I stroked his hair from his forehead and kissed it. "You do both, and I love and care for you, too. Just don't let this frighten you." He took a deep breath and nodded. He reached up for me and pulled me into a tight embrace. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't ever leave me." I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes and said, "There's no need to worry about that." We looked into each other's eyes for several long minutes. I didn't want completely to dismiss Robert's appearance, but it was obviously bothering Tim, and I didn't want to dwell on it, either. I tried to think of something that might distract him. He had an intense and serious look on his face that I tried to smile away. Finally, I saw his dimples appear, and it had the effect of raising my libido. However, we were about to be late if we didn't get moving. Sighing loudly, I said, "I suppose we'd better get ready for the day. I have a doctor's appointment this morning, and I need to catch up with my email." "Doctor's appointment?" he asked with increasing interest. "Yeah. It's just another follow-up. What do you think about Stevey? Should I take him back to his counselor for another visit?" He thought for a moment and said, "He's got a regular appointment tomorrow, right?" "Yes, but after yesterday . . ." I hesitated. "I think he'll be okay, but maybe you'd better ask him if he wants to go today." "That makes sense. I'll see how he's feeling this morning." Tim looked at me with sadness in his eyes. "Alan?" he asked, tentatively. "Tim? What is it? Are you okay?" He hesitated then said, "No, not really. I've been thinking about what you said last night. You're right. I shouldn't have tried to push you and Stevey together." Relieved, I whispered, "I love you, Timmy." "I know," he said, softly. "I guess I'm still learning what that means. I just didn't know how important it is to you for us to be exclusive with each other. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's important to me, too. I just didn't think about it that way with Stevey. We're so close that, well, it's like he's a part of me, you know?" I smiled at him and said, "I think I understand. You're trying to say that because you and your brother are so close that you didn't think that making love with Stevey would be like cheating on you. It would be more like making love to you. Is that right?" "Yeah, exactly, but you made me take another look at it, and I think I understand it better, now." He swallowed hard and said, "I'm sorry. I really fucked up." I looked deeply into his eyes and stroked the hair from his forehead. "It's okay," I whispered. "No, it's not. I really don't want to fuck this up. I love you so much . . ." He reached around me and pulled me tightly against his satiny smooth body and breathed fitfully, softly weeping. "Timmy," I whispered, "All is forgiven. Like I said before, we learn from our mistakes." "Yeah, but I hurt you, and Stevey got all messed up, too." He loosened his grip on me and wiped at his eyes. "It'll be okay. Stevey's still working through a lot of stuff, and it's probably helping him not to ignore his feelings, but to deal with them. This might even be a blessing in disguise." He smiled and looked at me. "You have such a wonderful way of understanding stuff. Do you see now why I'd much rather have an older boyfriend?" I looked from his eyes and down at the sculpted form of my bedmate. "I still have to pinch myself." He smiled, seductively and stretched like a cat. "Me, too," he sighed, watching me study him. While he had his arms over his head, I began to caress his chest and stomach, and he moaned, loudly. After rolling on the bed for a few minutes, I finally said, "I need another shower." "Me, too." As we walked to the bathroom, he had his hands all over me, making me feel as if we should continue where we left off before we gave in to exhaustion earlier in the morning. We did have some play in the shower; it was quick, but meaningful. We hurried to get ourselves ready for the day. Tim was anxious to get to work, so we gave each other a brief, but amorous "good-bye," and he scooted out of the room and down the stairs. I checked in on Paul and Mike, who were still fast asleep, then Stevey. Stevey seemed to be asleep, his back to the door, so I tip-toed into the room and sat softly on the edge of his bed. "Stevey?" I whispered and put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't respond. "Stevey, wake up," I whispered, gently shaking him. "I'm awake," he whispered back, but didn't move. "Are you all right? Did you sleep okay?" "No," he said as he rolled toward me, wiping his cheeks. His eyes were red and puffy, and my emotions immediately reacted by putting a lump in my throat. "Stevey, what's wrong?" He took a halting breath and wiped his eyes with his fingers. "I . . .. I never get to do what I want. Timmy always gets to do what he wants, but I never do. It's always been that way. Mom and Dad always let him go places and do things, and I had to stay at home. I only got to go when Timmy wanted me to go. When Timmy got to work in the kitchen and dining room, or got a computer, or got a car, or got to stay out late, I never did. They always said I was too little. Now Timmy has you, and I can't even touch you any more. You guys fuck and suck all night long, and all I can do is beat off. It just isn't fair." By the time he finished, he was sobbing. I reached around him and pulled him to a sitting position and hugged him, tightly, letting him bury his face in my neck as he convulsed. When he got his crying under control, I moved the pillows up behind him and laid him gently on them, looking deeply into his eyes. I could easily see that his jealousy for his brother was eating him up, so I knew I'd have to help him deal with it, or I'd have to take him home. It was just too cruel for him to see his brother with me, when he wanted what his brother had. "Stevey, how old was your brother when he started working in the kitchen?" He thought for a minute then said, "I guess he was about my age." "So, now that you're the same age he was, do you think if you asked, that your folks would let you work in the dining room or around the camp?" He looked at me with a blank expression. "Yeah, I guess." "How old was your brother when he started staying out, late?" He shrugged then gave me a weak smile. "He didn't really stay out late, I just said that." I chuckled at him. "He got his car when he was sixteen, right?" He nodded and wiped his eyes again. "It's really tough having an older brother and seeing him grow up faster than you, isn't it?" He tried not to smile, but he chuckled and turned his face so I couldn't see him. I pulled him into a hug, and he began to cry, again. "Stevey, I think you should go see Susan, again." He forced himself to breathe deeply, holding me tightly with his arms around my neck. "I love you, Alan. I love you, so much." I whispered into his hair, "I love you, too." He sighed and said, "I can last until tomorrow, as long as you go with me." I looked into his eyes and asked, "Are you positive? No more bull fighting? No more wanting to make love with old farts?" He smiled, "No, not even with old farts." "Okay, then. You guys are going to be on your own, today. I have a doctor's appointment, and I have to go to the office to take care of some things. Nell will be here to keep an eye on you, and you can go out to the toy box if you want. There's a lot you guys can do, so I expect that you'll be busy enough. Just don't give Nell any trouble, okay?" Sighing, loudly, he said, "Okay." I laughed and ruffled his hair. "You can stay in bed a little longer if you want. I'll be leaving after I check some email, so I'll say good-bye, now." He grabbed me into a hug and then pressed his lips to mine. When I felt his tongue trying to dig its way into my mouth, I broke the kiss. "Okay, that's enough," I said. "You're no fun," he said, forcing a pout, but with a stifled smile. I swatted his butt and stood, taking another look at him. He was smiling at me. "I'll try to be home early. Maybe we can go for a ride in the `Vette like I promised." He smiled wide and softly said, "Kewl." I closed his door as I left and saw that the other boys' doors were still closed, so I carefully walked past them. I found Nell in the kitchen reading the newspaper. Since Tim was nowhere to be seen, I assumed that he'd already left. "Good morning, Mister Lazy," she greeted, burying her nose back in the gossip column. I chuckled and said, "I'm still under doctor's orders, y'know." "Yeah, yeah. So how long are you gonna milk it?" she asked, knowing that "resting" was not something I could do. "I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of hours. I'm hoping that he'll give me the key to this ball and chain." She smirked at me and grunted. "What's that supposed to mean?" She raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. "What makes you think I'm not being perfectly clear in my meaning?" "Always the skeptic. Yes, I know what it is you're not articulating." "Oh, now Mister Sensitive is using the big words. Did I insult his ego?" I looked at her with a smiling scowl. Under my breath, I said, "If you weren't like a mother to me, and if I didn't love you so much . .. ." "What? You wouldn't put up with my abuse? You know you love it. It makes you realize you aren't such hot stuff." "That's not the impression Tim gives me." She smiled at me and said, "Yes, but I'm not Tim, am I?" She studied me for a moment then turned back to her newspaper. "What?" "Nothing," she sang, apparently trying to ignore me. "It's just that I find it amusing how good he's been for you. It's amazing what a little sex will do to improve one's attitude." I smiled and said in a hushed tone, "You know it's a lot more than sex." She looked at me over her glasses and smiled at me. "Yes, I know. And it's about time, too." I finished pouring and adding cream and sweetener to a cup of coffee, still leaning against the counter. "Will you be okay with looking after the boys, today?" She smiled into the paper and said, "More than fine. If they get out of hand, I'll have the National Guard outside come in and hold them at gunpoint until you get home." I nodded, ironically. "That sounds fine to me. I told Stevey they could go out to the toy box if they want. Be sure to warn Marty, okay?" "I think that would be a good idea. He can help me baby sit. I have a few more interviews today then I may hire a few people. Do you have any ideas about how much I should pay them?" "Actually, I hadn't thought about it. Use your own discretion. Whatever you think is fair. Be sure to get their Social Security numbers, driver's licenses, green cards, and whatever else you think is appropriate. Call Lucy at the office, and she can help you. Use the copier and fax machine in my office if you have to. We'll need all of their personal information to run background checks before they start work, too." "Yes, I guessed as much. I'll take care of all that, and I'll send the information to Mr. Holmes." "I'm glad you're so efficient." She smirked at me. "Okay, I'm leaving. I'll be in my office for about an hour before I leave for my doctor's appointment. If the hooligans give you any trouble, call me on my cell, okay?" "You got it, boss." I chuckled at her calling me "boss" as I carried my coffee into my office. Checking my business email, I found that there was already an email from Mark Gambrel, with a proposed contract attached. I looked it over and decided that there were only a few things I wanted to change. I forwarded it to Carl, my attorney, with instructions what to change and to put it in our standard contract format. I wasn't in the habit of sending every contract to Carl, but I felt that this one deserved special handling. As I reviewed the rest of my business and personal email, I found an announcement for an upcoming auction of specialty cars. Naturally, I had to peruse the offerings. There were a few cars that got my attention, but one in particular piqued my interest. I sent a quick email to the auction house for a bidder's number, and then I fired off an email to a guy that had represented me at auctions in the past. I put a high limit on buying the car, just to make sure I didn't miss it. It would be a great addition to the toy box! There was another car that looked interesting, so I gave instructions to bid on it, as well, but with a lower limit. If I got it, fine, but it wouldn't break my heart to miss out on it. I felt almost euphoric as I sent the email. If that special car came through, I'd be thrilled! I also had an email from Carl that told me my new will was ready for my signature, and that I could come by his office to review and sign it at my convenience. I quickly called his office and made an appointment for about ten o'clock, after my doctor's appointment. Looking at the clock, I saw that I had a few minutes, so I quickly filed my emails and shut down the computer. Before I left, I made sure the copier and fax machines were on and ready to use. On my way out, I gave Nell a peck on the cheek. She jumped, put her hand to her cheek and said, "Do I have Tim to thank for that?" I smiled wide and said, "Maybe," as I scooted out the door. I went to the toy box to see which car might suit my fancy. The lights were on already, so I knew Marty was there, early. "Marty?" I called out as I entered. There was a scuffling noise in the shop area. "Wha . . . ? Yeah, boss?" he finally called back, breathlessly. Something was definitely amiss. He seemed to be panting. Cautiously, I asked, "Are you okay?" I stayed well clear of the shop, my paranoia kicking in. "Yeah, I'm fine," he called, walking carefully around the corner. He was a bit red in the face. A moment later, Grant appeared from around the same corner. He was also a bit red in the face and his eyes didn't meet mine when I looked at him. Marty nervously explained, "I was, uh, just showing Grant some stuff on one of the cars." "Oh?" I said with an unintended smirk. "Which car?" His head spun back into the shop and he quickly pointed to the furthest car. "The, uh, Kaiser." I don't really think he expected me to believe him. I smiled at Marty who was blushing to his toes. Grant still had a blank expression on his face. "Thanks," Grant said in a low voice while he exchanged an expressionless, yet meaningful gaze with Marty. Meanwhile, Marty's knees were almost melting. I bit my lips, forcing myself not to say anything. I cleared my throat, distracting both of them, reminding them that I was watching them. Grant immediately came to my side. "Sir, will you be going to the office?" he asked. "Yes, but only after my doctor's appointment." "Yes, sir." Smirking at Marty, I decided to see if he could think quickly. "Marty, which car do you think I should take today?" "Uh, which car haven't you taken, lately?" Since there were well over a hundred cars, that list would have been quite long. I couldn't hold it any longer. Looking directly at Marty, I let out a low laugh. He blushed deeper putting his hands in his back pockets and glancing at Grant, nervously. Straightening up, I cleared my throat and said, "I guess I'll just pick one at random." He smiled at me, sheepishly. "I, uh, I'll get the door," he murmured. I turned to Grant and asked, "Which car do you recommend?" He turned and looked over the cars. Raising his arm, he pointed down the line. "Sir, that James Bond car sure is nice." It was a silver Aston Martin DB7, very similar in appearance to the one Sean Connery drove in his first few James Bond movies, and with just as much power. I smiled at Grant and said, "You have good taste." I glanced over at Marty, who was standing by the large door as it opened, and then back at Grant. I gave my eyebrows a little tweak and said, ". . . Very good taste." Grant cleared his throat and said, "Thanks, sir." "The only thing is, you won't be driving. I'll drive." "Yes, sir." "We'll be going to my doctor's office first, and then my attorney's office. Then we'll go to my office. We won't stay away the entire day, though. Okay?" "Yes, sir." Grant was very quiet, but squirmed a lot during the drive. His head seemed to swivel on his neck while we drove as he watched the traffic around us as well as taking in everything inside the car. I wanted to say something about him and Marty, but I thought it better to wait until I could talk to Marty, alone. Arriving at the office of Doctor "Prissypants," I was escorted to an exam room; Grant very reluctantly stayed behind in the waiting room. In preparation for seeing the doctor, I was weighed, given an EKG, and my vitals were taken. After a short wait, Doctor Phillips silently entered the exam room, looking at my chart, the notes the nurse had entered, and my EKG. He finally looked up at me with a frown. "Mister Stewart . . ." "Alan." "Alan, then," he said with irritation. "I don't understand what I see, here." He studied the record a little more, making a mark or two on the readout. After a minute or two, he looked up at me appraisingly. Taking his stethoscope, he listened to my chest in several places, and then my back, having me breathe until I hyperventilated. Looking at my face, he asked, "How are you feeling?" I shrugged and said, "Great!" "Any pain or tightness in your chest, arms or back?" I took inventory of all my parts and shook my head. "No, fine. No pain anywhere and I haven't had any tightness like I did before the heart attack." He looked at my eyes and scowled. "Your blood pressure is normal, but your eyes are bloodshot. How are you sleeping?" I chuckled, "Very well, when I get to sleep." I could see something in his eyes that said something had just occurred to him. "How old is that partner of yours?" Smiling, I said, "Twenty." He smirked and rolled his eyes. "Were you up late last night?" I cleared my throat and said, "Yes, until early this morning." Clearing his throat, he looked at my records, again. "You haven't been resting, have you?" "Um, no, not really." "Hmph," he grunted. "Well, it doesn't seem to have hurt you. What I'm seeing here is . . . puzzling. This EKG should show that you had a heart attack, but this is a normal EKG. I know that you had a severe myocardial infarction, but this is . . . normal. I wish all my patients had such a good EKG. I just don't understand." I shrugged and said, "I'll take it." "Yes," he said, deeply in thought, "You should." "So," I said, trying to move things along, "am I good to go?" "Yes, I suppose," he said, looking at me appraisingly. "Can I get back to my routine? I like to exercise regularly, and I haven't been doing any of that. I can almost feel the fat growing under my skin and my muscles getting flabby." He chuckled and said, "I don't think you have anything to worry about. You're in very good condition. But, you can exercise again, if you take it very slowly for the next four to six weeks. After that, you're on your own. I'll want to see you again in three months." I smiled wide at my good report. "Thanks, doc." "Phil," he said, absently. "Thanks, Phil." He hesitated for a moment then said, "There's a young man working for you at Ubergeeks. His name is Jody." I thought a moment, trying to remember someone by that name. "I have over three hundred employees. It's sometimes hard to remember them all." "Blond, tall, thin?" he asked, trying to trigger a memory. A face suddenly appeared in my mind, but I hadn't connected it to the name. I pointed at Phil and said, "Yes! Jody Phillips! Is he related? If my memory serves me, he bears a strong resemblance to you." He smiled, proudly. "Yes. He's my son." That raised my eyebrows. "I didn't know he was your son!" "Yes, and he's gay. We had guessed about his orientation when he was quite young, but he only told us he was gay five or six years ago. In spite of our positive response, he seemed to go into a depression. His mother and I became very concerned about him. I finally got him to admit that he was lonely. Then he learned about you. Thoughts of promise in his own life buoyed his spirits, and he came out of his depression. Alan, it wasn't anything you did; it was solely your positive example that gave him hope. He finally found someone special, a very nice young man, and has begun a long term relationship with him." He cleared his throat and continued, "Alan, I hate to think what might have happened if he hadn't seen through you that he could have some happiness in his life." "I . . . had no idea," I said softly. "He and Adam were devastated when you lost your mate. He would have said something to you, but he knew you were trying to maintain a low profile at the office, and he said that you were having a rough time." I nodded. "I'm quite glad your life has improved so much since then." He cleared his throat and said, "So, you see, my wife and I owe you a rather large debt of gratitude." I thought a moment and said, "I'm glad it turned out so well for Jody, but you don't owe me anything. If I can be a positive example for someone, then it means I've lived well." He nodded with a smile on his lips. "I can see that Jody chose a good role model." He looked at my chart again and said, "On your way out, make an appointment for three months from now, but call me in the meantime if anything concerns you." "Thanks, Phil." I shook his hand and we shared respectful smiles. I dutifully made another appointment for the middle of October. Grant seemed nervously relieved to see me, probably taking his job seriously, which was good, I guess. As we walked to the car, he kept stealing glances at me, making me think that he probably had a question on his mind. I was just happy to be out from under the pall of a doctor's orders to limit my activities, even though I didn't, really. When we got close to the car, I handed Grant the keys and said, "Do you want to drive?" He looked at me nervously then turned toward the car and said, "Sir, if you don't mind, I'd be grateful if y'all'd drive. That's just too much car for me." I laughed and said, "I know it's an expensive car, but I'd enjoy it if you'd drive. Don't worry about scratching it, either. It's just a car." He swallowed hard and took the keys, saying, "Yes, sir." I gave him directions as we made our way toward Carl's office. On our way there, I saw him swallow hard. He cleared his throat several times, and then said, "Sir?" "Yes, Grant?" "Sir, when they processed me in over at your office, they told me about your rules." I had a good idea where this was leading, so I let him talk. "Yes?" Hesitating and clearing his throat again, he said, "Sir, I'm afraid I broke one of your biggest rules." "You did? Which one?" I asked, feigning surprise. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He was beginning to perspire. "Well, sir, it's the one about not gettin' personal with another employee. It's just that I didn't see it comin.' It just sorta' happened, sir." "What did?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. (Not so easy for a gay man!) "Well, sir, the other day I went to take a look at your cars, like you said I could, and, well, sir, I met your mechanic, Marty." He cleared his throat again. "Well, sir, I looked at him, and he looked at me, and he sorta reminded me of someone, but I couldn't think of who it was. To tell the truth, I still can't remember who it was. But, it's kinda like I knew him all my life, y'know?" It sounded as if he was begging me to understand. I cleared my throat and said, "Yes, I've heard that can happen." He cleared his throat and tried to shift in his seat. Of course, there isn't much room to squirm in an Aston Martin DB7. He continued by talking faster than I'd ever heard him talk and with more words than I'd ever heard come from his mouth at one time. "Uh, yeah, well, sir, it happened. And, well, I got to know him better, and it's even more like I always knew him, y'know? And we sorta got to talkin' and sorta discussin' things, and we've been places and done things, and we talked some more about what it was like growin' up, and what we've been through and stuff, and well, we got closer, and, well, we sorta got . . . closer, you know?" "Closer?" "Um, yeah, sir, closer. Like, REAL close." "Like, how close?" I knew it was cruel to make him squirm, but I wanted to know just how serious he was. He swallowed hard and brushed the moisture from his upper lip. He squirmed and in the process pressed the gas to the floor causing the tires to spin. He quickly brought the car back under control. I had to force myself not to show my amusement at his nervousness. "Grant, we're here. Pull into that parking lot over there and park close to the entrance." When he stopped the car and turned the engine off, I said, "Now, Grant, tell me what you've been trying to say." He was breathing hard and it seemed as if he was almost in a panic. "Grant, calm down. I'm not going to fire either one of you. Marty's been with me a long time. He's more like family than an employee. It's important to me that he's not abused in a relationship. He's been hurt by some selfish, uncaring people, and I don't want that to happen again. Now, tell me what you want to say." He swallowed again and cleared his throat. He whispered, "Sir, I've never been . . . y'know . . . well . . . in love before." I looked at him with a hard expression and said, "Do you intend to care for him, respect him and treat him well?" He shivered and whispered, "Yes, sir. He's a good guy, and he does things for me I didn't ever think a guy would do." He swallowed hard and said, "It's like . . . I never thought I'd ever know someone as good as him." "Do you intend to live with him?" "You mean, like, share a house?" "Yes, and preferably with a white picket fence." He smirked and said, "If that's what he wants, then that's what I want, too." I smiled at him. "Congratulations." I took his hand and shook it. He blushed. "I have just one more question. Have you told Marty how you feel about him?" "He knows." "He won't know if you don't tell him." He began chewing on a fingernail. "Do I gotta?" "Do you love him?" He nodded. "There are a lot of ways of telling someone you love them. Tim bought every red rose in central Texas and filled my office with them." His eyes grew wide. "I saw them roses," he whispered. "When y'all brought them home. They sure was a lot of `em." I nodded. "But even then, he told me that he loved me. I knew from the roses that he loved me, but it meant more to me when he actually said the words." He nodded, slowly. I patted his knee and said, "Think about it, and don't worry about a thing. If I know Marty, he'll be quite receptive. You treat him well, or I'll be very upset." He cleared his throat again and said, "Yes, sir." I looked at him again with a sympathetic smile. He appeared to have calmed. "Lock it up and let's go in," I said, still smiling at him. "Yes, sir," he said, apparently still unsure of himself. Whatever would happen between him and Marty, I was positive it'd be good. Carl was ready for me when we got to his office. Shaking my hand and glancing at Grant, he said, "You brought your own witness?" I smiled at Grant and said to Carl, "I wouldn't mind Grant witnessing it, but he might have an indirect interest." Carl raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh! Well, we can't have that. I'll have a couple of people in the office witness it. First, though, let me walk you through what I've put together for you." I made Tim my primary heir, of course, with trust funds for each of the boys. I knew that providing for the boys was jumping the gun a bit, but I rationalized that even if the worst happened and we weren't a family, then at the very least I'd track them down and we'd keep in touch with them somehow. I couldn't imagine the possibility of not having them in our lives in some way. There was also the list of personal bequeaths to my sister, her kids and others that meant something to me, and then there was also a very strong "poison pill" clause that pretty much guarded against anyone trying to break the will. He had done a great job of doing exactly what I said, so I signed it, it was witnessed, and I was satisfied that it was all taken care of. After the witnesses signed and left, and Carl packaged a copy of my will for me, he said, "Now, we have a couple of other things to discuss. First there's the matter of the contract you sent me this morning. That contract stinks. If you don't mind, I want to add some magic to it." "By all means. It wouldn't upset me at all if the client didn't sign it. Frankly, I don't like their manner." He raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh. Then I won't try to tone things down or camouflage them." "That's fine with me." "Okay, that makes it easier. Then there's the matter of the adoptions. Paul's might be a little easier than Phillie's . . ." "Mike's. He wants to be called Mike, now." "Ah, his middle name, Michael. The point is that I'm going to hand the matter of the boys' adoption over to a specialist. She's had a lot of experience with adoptions, and she's anxious to handle these for you. Her name is Greta Houseman. She's very unassuming, but I know you won't judge her by her appearance." He looked at his watch and said, "I invited her over here, and she should be here any minute. Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?" "Sure. How about you, Grant?" "No, sir, thanks. I'm fine." He was standing, as usual, in a position where he seemed to blend into the background and could observe everyone in the room. Carl seemed to have forgotten he was present, because he appeared to be startled when Grant spoke. It wasn't but a few minutes after we settled down with our coffee when an elderly lady stepped into the room. Carl stood and smiled at the feeble looking woman. Frankly, I thought she was someone's grandmother and she was lost and wandered into the room, but Carl didn't seem to be surprised to see her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To be continued . . . . ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If you want to keep track of what I'm up to, check out my website and blog at www.lancekenman.com. 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