Chapter Eight
Adam
The next morning, I woke up ready to do battle with my best friend, but as usual, Bugsy had found a way to try and disperse the tension to make the problem seem to go away. When I went into the kitchen, I found him making breakfast for us as he sang show tunes.
"Morning," I grunted as I pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured myself a cup of coffee.
"Good morning, my friend," Bugsy said cheerfully. He turned around and I nearly dropped the mug I was holding when I saw he was wearing an apron with the words, "Domesticated bitch" over a picture of a dog holding a spatula.
"You are warped," I said grumpily as I recalled the night before. "And gay."
"I own the first, but reject the second," he replied. "Not that there's anything wrong with it."
"God, you are such an asshole," I said shaking my head as he turned back to the stove and carefully flipped what looked like an omelet.
"And you take life entirely too seriously," he replied as he added cheese and ground pepper to the fluffy, golden mixture in the pan. "Why can't you just let go and have fun for a change?"
"Because my best friend is paying hookers to seduce me!" I shouted as I slammed my fist on the counter. "Goddamnit, Bugsy, do you not see how completely fucked up that is?"
"I only did it to—" he began.
"I know, I know! You only did it for the business!" I shouted. "I'm not the business! I'm a person, Bugsy! Do you have any idea what it's like to have spent my life growing up with parents who hate each other but will band together to hate me more? And on top of that, I have followed in your genetically blessed footsteps and wondered if the girls like me because of me, my father's money, or if they simply want to use me to get closer to you?"
"I had no idea that bothered you so much," he said flipping a perfectly folded omelet onto the plate in front of me and adding a slice of buttered toast on the side.
"Oh bullshit, you've always known," I said as my ego-driven brain tried to convince my rumbling stomach to reject the peace offering. "You just choose to ignore it."
"Fine, if that's true, then I'm sorry," he said, catching me off guard. "Just eat your breakfast. You've got to be starving."
"What the fuck, Bugsy?" I muttered as I picked up a fork and dug into the eggs.
"Look, I didn't mean any harm, Adam," he said as he slid more eggs into the pan and turned the heat down. "I honestly thought I was doing you a favor, but I can see how it might have been the wrong way to go about things, and, for that, I'm sorry."
I ignored him, but continued eating his peace offering.
"Adam, we have a huge weight on our shoulders right now," he said as he turned back to the stove and stirred the eggs. "Honestly, I'm a little worried that we're not going to be able to make this idea work unless you are able to quickly negotiate a deal with the farm folks down south. We need to secure enough space for at least twenty turbines to land the manufacturing contract, and I'm not entirely certain that there's going to be enough interest for us to do that."
"So? If we don't land Corner Grove, we move to the next farming community," I said.
"You don't get it, do you?" he replied as he flipped the second omelet onto a plate and offered it to me. I shook my head and he picked up a fork and began shoveling food into his mouth as he spoke. "The next potential farming community where we can actually make a profit after Corner Grove is outside of Topeka fucking Kansas! You read the DOE report, too, Adam. Don’t play dumb with me now."
"And the problem with that is?"
"We're talking increased supply chain and installation costs because of the distance," he said. "And the maintenance and upkeep visits are going to exponentially increase our cash needs. Plus, it's not rated as highly as Corner Grove in terms of wind levels."
"So, I need to sell the idea in Corner Grove," I said flatly. "This still doesn't explain why you hired a hooker to fuck me in a broom closet last night."
"Jesus, are you ever going to let that go?" he sighed. "Look, you and I both know that you're in desperate need of a woman's touch."
I winced as Bugsy stated the obvious, but said nothing.
"You're a red-blooded American male! You needed a release! You deserve to have a good time!" he insisted. "Why can't you just thank me for the effort and let it go?"
"Because fuck you, that's why," I said as I stood up from the counter and shoved my plate across the surface. "Thanks for the eggs. I appreciate you not hiring breakfast out."
"Dammit, Adam!" Bugsy shouted as I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to take a shower.
#
As usual, Bugsy and I resolved our differences through a complex mechanism of silence, peace offerings and falling back on business talk to smooth over the rough edges, and after a week of camping out in his guest bedroom, I'd gathered all the information I would need for the trip to Corner Grove.
Ten days after I’d moved in with him, I decided it was time to head out and get to work. I caught a cab to the car rental office and signed an agreement for weeklong rental of a black Mustang. Despite Bugsy's warnings about costs and keeping a low profile in Corner Grove, I figured that if he could afford to hire hookers for me, then we could also afford the cost of the car that I wanted to drive.
"What the hell, Wallace?" Bugsy yelled when I tossed the receipts for the car rental on his desk. "I told you we don't have this kind of money to be throwing around!"
"Yeah, but you had enough to rent a hooker for me?" I shot back. Bugsy said nothing as he fumed in silence for a few minutes.
"Fine, the car is it, though," he said sternly. "We seriously do not have a lot of money, Wallace. We have to conserve resources if we're going to land this deal and make it generate a profit."
"Understood, boss," I said giving him a mock salute as he handed me the paperwork for the bed and breakfast I'd be staying at in Corner Grove. "What is this? Don't they have online check in?"
"You've got to be shitting me," he said shaking his head. "You're going down to Amish country, Adam. You'll be lucky if you can find a phone down there. Forget about online check in and anything related to the modern world. Speaking of which, don't forget your phone charger."
"Oh please, I've read about the Amish in those communities, Bugsy," I said giving him a skeptical look. "They're not nearly as backward as you think they are. How the hell do you think they do business down there?"
"I think you're in for a major surprise, my friend," he said shaking his head. "But, whatever."
We spent the next hour hashing out the possible appointments I'd have over the next two weeks. Our goal was to land enough farmland to be able to install the twenty turbines, and in order to do that we'd need at least five farms to agree to sign on. I was optimistic that I could sell the technology based on what little I knew about the Amish and their way of life.
"I hope you're right about all of this," Bugsy said as he rubbed his chin.
"C'mon, man, they hate government involvement and they don't take energy from the electrical grid," I said trying to convince him I was right. "There's nothing here that says they wouldn't give it back to the grid and make some money from it. Look at all their businesses in this area! Furniture manufacturing and grocery stores, forget about the farming they do. It's gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel!"
"I hope you're right, Wallace," Bugsy repeated with a worried look.
Later that afternoon, I watched Chicago's skyline disappear in my rearview mirror as I headed down to Corner Grove. The drive down provided an interesting contrast in landscapes as the city quickly gave way to miles of lush, green farmland stretching out in front of me. I noticed the air becoming cooler the farther south I drove. Halfway to my destination, I rolled down my windows and breathed deeply, filling my lungs with clean, fresh air.
I thought about what Bugsy had said, and grudgingly admitted to myself that he might have had a point. I didn't have a good track record with women, and there had been a long line of women I'd thought I could love, but the reality was that I had never trusted any of them.
I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and stepped harder on the gas pedal, and quickly drove the thoughts from my brain. Now was not the time to be doing self-analysis about my romantic failings; I had a job to do. I chuckled as I thought about the fact that I was headed into a community largely made up of Amish people. Women were not going to be a problem there.
I arrived in town just as the light was fading. I flipped on my lights as I drove through the small town to get familiar with its layout. Corner Grove was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it towns where the stores and restaurants were centralized in a few blocks along Main Street. I quickly found the place I would be staying at the end of the strip.
"Oh, hell no," I muttered as I double-checked the address on the paperwork Bugsy had given me with the address on the front door.
I sat outside the large, white house with the meticulous garden in front and a sign hanging from the front porch that read, "Yoder's Lodgings. Doing the Lord's work since 1987." Bugsy had conveniently picked the most traditionally Amish bed and breakfast in town. I cursed him under my breath as I looked up and down along the street to see if there was a Best Western or a Holiday Inn somewhere around. When I realized that I was out of luck, I climbed the stairs and went to check in.
The desk clerk looked up from her knitting, pulled a pair of half glasses off the bridge of her nose, and let them hang around her neck on a black lanyard as she smiled warmly at me.
"Welcome! Welcome! Are you looking for lodgings?" she cheerfully inquired as she stood up and walked around the desk. She was a plump woman in a purple dress, wearing a starched white cap pulled tightly over her white hair. "If so, we've got a room for you!"
"Yes, I do need a room," I nodded. "For a couple of days."
"We can most certainly do that! I'm Mrs. Elsa Yoder," she said in a cheerful voice that put the emphasis on the Mrs. and had the hint of an accent I couldn't quite place, but knew was related to German or Dutch. "Welcome to Corner Grove."
"Hello, Mrs. Yoder," I said holding out my hand, which she ignored. "I'm Adam Wallace."
"Did you have a long drive, dear?" she asked as she looked around for my suitcase. "You don't seem to have any things, do you?"
"No, not long. It was a short drive from Chicago. My bags are out in the car," I said waving toward the street. "I'll go out and get them."
"If you like, I'll have my son, Gabe, go bring them in for you," she said with a wide smile as she gestured to me. I shook my head to discourage her from calling Gabe to get my bags, so she shrugged as she continued, "Come and let me get you registered, and then show you around our establishment, Mr. Wallace."
I filled out the paperwork, showed my identification, and then paid for two nights before following Mrs. Yoder into the sitting room where she informed me that tea would be served at eleven in the morning and four in the afternoon, if I was so inclined. She moved on to the dining room where she said that breakfast and dinner would be served each day.
"Breakfast is at seven sharp and supper at six," she said cheerfully tapping the large oak table. "We're very prompt, Mr. Wallace. And if you want to eat, you'd be wise to follow suit!"
I nodded as she moved out of the dining room and began to climb up the wide staircase that led the second floor. I marveled at the polished wood stairs and gleaming banister. Someone had taken a great deal of care of the interior of this house, and it showed.
On the wall to my left hung an assortment of large quilts with designs that looked plain, but were probably much more complex than my untrained eye could discern. Mrs. Yoder gave a brief history of each one as she quickly climbed the stairs and as we reached the top step, she turned and said, "Have you ever slept beneath a homemade quilt, Mr. Wallace?"
"I can't say that I have, ma'am," I said shaking my head.
"Well, tonight we'll change that," she said nodding her head as she walked down the long hallway and stopped in front of a door at the end. She pushed the door open and walked into a room that looked like it had been pulled from another era.
The walls were painted mint green and the wood floors were a dark brown. There was a double bed, a nightstand, and a dresser all made of the same, dark wood on the floor. It felt like I was in a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I looked around for the closet, but the room didn't seem to have one.
"We hang our clothes on pegs," Mrs. Yoder said obviously having heard this question before. She pointed to a spot in the corner where there were two sets of pegboards hung high enough that even the longest clothing wouldn't touch the floor. I nodded as she continued, "The bathroom is the second door on the right. You'd normally share it with the other guests, but we're not expecting anyone else until next week so you'll have it all to yourself!"
"Great," I said, scanning the room for electrical outlets.
"If you need to plug in your electronics," she said cheerfully. "You can bring them down to the front desk and use the power strip there. The house is wired, but we didn't put in outlets in the individual rooms because it didn't seem necessary at the time. I guess we were wrong!"
I was silently cursing Bugsy as I realized that no electrical outlets meant there probably wasn't a Wi-Fi connection in the house either, but before I could ask, Mrs. Yoder spoke up.
"We do have Wi-Fi, though!" she chirped. "The password is AbidebyGodswill.”
"Good to know," I said flashing her a faint smile to show my appreciation. "It seems I missed supper tonight? Is there somewhere around here I can get something to eat?"
"Oh, of course, Mr. Wallace!" she said excitedly. "Lottie's Diner is just a block down the street and she serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. But she closes down at seven to get home and do her chores."
"So I'm out of luck tonight?" I asked feeling annoyed by the small town approach to business. In Chicago, if I wanted a sandwich or an omelet or a five-course meal, I could get it whenever I wanted. In fact, I could pull up an app that would let me order from just about any restaurant in the city and have my meal delivered within thirty minutes. I doubted there was a company down here that could do that.
"You could head down to Miller's Grocery," she suggested. "They stay open until nine, and they often have hot food that you can take out. If you need a lunch to take with you while you're here, I'll be happy to pack one for you if you let me know ahead of time."
"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," I said feeling anxious and wanting to get out of the room and away from the smiling Amish woman. "I'm going to go find some dinner and then I'll be back. Do I need a key in the evening?"
"Oh goodness, no!" Mrs. Yoder laughed. "We leave the door unlocked until midnight and then Gabe watches the desk until morning."
Mrs. Yoder firmly closed the door after we'd exited and then led me back down the wide staircase to the foyer. I thanked her for the hospitality and said I'd be back later with my bags. She smiled and waved as I walked out the front door. Once on the porch, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was only going to be here for a few days.