Cards in the Deck

This is a work of fiction - names and places are elements of fiction.

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Cards in the Deck - Adam and Ben 29

The Last Brevard

The week was quiet. Maybe not such a bad thing but not so good either. Too much time to think and brood is sometimes not the best for me. Having just come off an exciting weekend getting a football stadium named after the family and meeting the young but brilliant Ryan Brevard, the quiet seemed anticlimactic. Ryan is really something. He's hot as hell and smart and yes, he looks like me, and has similar mannerisms. He's making money hand over fist trading stocks while he is so very insecure in his interpersonal relationships. He likes a boy and wants that boy to like him back. He seems to have a peculiar affection for me and has tested lines that make me uncomfortable. The worst thing I can do is panic or scare him off. Stay the course is the best option, I believe. This was an area with which I never had any issues but my family upbringing and foundation were much different than his. I had parents who expected me to carry my own. A mother who was corporate driven managing large scale initiatives and a father who was mostly aloof, loved using his finance knowledge to run the Brevard Trust, now Foundation, was enthralled with chess and reading books. His parents are overly concerned with everything, living in Virginia, far away from the family home, adhering to the singular standards of their father, my Uncle James. I will take care of him, though. Whatever he needs he will get.

Then, there is Quinn, a friend from 4 years, a lover for almost 2 months. Ryan says I could have done better in an urban or metropolitan environment and perhaps he's right. But amongst the local tribe, I found someone I care very deeply for and someone who cares back. Ryan says I need to be clearer about the finish line and what comes next. Just finding a new home isn't the end of it. He is right about that. It was not a surprise attack that I put this task on Quinn. I was right in my thinking - if I choose and I buy it, it's mine. If he chooses it, at least he had a true say. Let's see what he comes up with. I have high hopes but will not fall apart if the trip is not a success. But yes, that finish line and thereafter is something I am addressing this week. I'm going to hang it right there and let you ponder that. Quinn will be home soon as there is a lot to cover. The final appraisal session is in three days and Quinn will have to hit the ground running to be prepared for it. Let the fireworks begin!

I saw the SUV turn into the gate and I knew that was Kent bringing Quinn back from the airport in Birmingham. They stopped under the Porte Cochere and before the car could formally stop, Quinn threw open the door and rushed over to me. He put his arms tight around me and went straight for the lips. He literally sucked my breath out. He turned me and pushed me up the stairs into the side entrance. He turned and hacked off an order at Kent, "Please bring my bags in and leave them at the foot of the stairs. I need to talk to Ben about something!" and he continued pushing me up the stairs. Obviously, Kent got the message as he gave Quinn a wink and a nod.

"Quinn," I said, "What are you doing? I want to talk to you..." He kept pushing me down the hall and into the bedroom. He yanked my sweater up around my head. He pulled my jeans down without unloosening the belt with a bit of a struggle. As his own clothes came off, he took our naked bodies in his arms and put his lips to mine.

"I love you Ben," he whispered. "I missed you so much. So fucking much." He laid down on the bed and guided me on top of him. As I entered him, I cradled his head in one hand and stroked his face with the other. Oh damn, I missed him too. Which do you think is better? Make up sex or I missed you sex. It's a good question.

As we lay still in the bed, after amazing orgasms, I finally asked him how it all went. He indicated he would be showing me properties in Denver, New Orleans, Charleston, and Nashville. There you have it. A fine list if I say so. We showered together and put on comfortable sweats and jerseys. It was chilly outside and a cold front was moving over leaving clouds and drizzle for a Sunday night.

We went over the properties. A loft in Denver with a gorgeous view. A historic home in the NOLA Garden District, a lovely, colorful house with first and second floor porches in Charleston, and a lovely modern house along the Cumberland River just outside the city of Nashville. The one thing I listened for, and did not hear, was an apology for any one of these properties. He was sure and confident each one met immediate objectives and provided for long term possibilities, social, remote work, and location.

"Quinn," I said as I sat back down beside him in the family room with mugs of coffee, "you've done well. I don't have a clear decision to make here. So if you have a favorite..."

"I have two but I want to hear what you think first." Then his cell rang and he rushed off to take the call. When he returned, he said he didn't want to talk about the houses anymore that night. He was glad I was happy and proceeded to tell me about his night out with Brett. They had become good friends and I was thrilled Quinn was opening doors outside our little universe. He also wanted to tell me that he met with Jane and her team while he was in Charleston to discuss his future and whether there might be estate auctions in it. Basically, they made him an offer as a Senior Project Manager, with the contingency that he complete his degree in 12 months. They would wait to discover where we would move to determine his home base office. It was a thrilling adventure! I was so excited for him, I mean, us, of course.

I tell you know, seeing him so happy, and feeling the way I did, I would have made love to him all over that expensive carpet again if I had not just done so 3 hours ago. This was incredible news. He went over the offer with me. I could not gauge if the salary was competitive as I have no knowledge but it brought up that question in me I have wrestled with for some time...when do I tell my partner my net worth? What my personal trust is worth. Well I would have to talk to Erin about this. He had more experience.

The race to the final appraisal review meeting was on and Quinn was working feverishly on final items. A few more secretive phone calls took place. I thought I was going to work but Trudeau gave me instructions to stand down, so to speak. As they were taking over the company, they felt that a conflict of loyalties could arise and wanted a clean break. It was not meant to be hostile or decisive. It was a normal occurrence in acquisitions and I was ok, except there wasn't much "so long" fanfare. Fortunately, we had managed a couple of parties and a management team dinner earlier so I'm glad I had that.

Erin and Joe flew in on Tuesday. They had asked to join the last session and be there to celebrate with us afterwards on Thursday. I really had a wonderful time with them while Quinn was working away. This was really their first time meeting him over a lengthy visit. They had met him once before, here, when he and Adam West were cavorting together. Obviously, Joe had to tell his "first meeting story" about him and Erin, which Quinn was fascinated by. Then we had to go over the Ryan story. They both found it interesting and when they saw the pictures of us together from his visit, they were astounded. Joe thought it was a little creepy in some ways, in fact. Erin thought it was beautiful. Erin and Joe did some site-seeing on their own and of course I had them stroll through Evelyn Park, the family park commissioned by the old Clinton Brevard. The one nice thing he actually did for the area, naming it after his wife, my great grandmother.

Then came Thursday evening and it was 6:30 pm. The skype call was launched and the roll was taken. James and wife, Phil and wife, Annaleigh and husband, Charles and wife, three grandchildren, the accountant, the family lawyer, Jane from Christies, the Executive Director of the Brevard Foundation, and a producer from Alabama Public Television. Quinn and I were logged in separately while Erin and Joe sat in the dining room with us, watching from behind my shoulder.

"Good evening everyone. We have a few items to push through tonite before we wrap up." Everyone was quiet as they sat in anticipation. "First, we need to discuss what may be the most significant items in your possession, even greater than the Waterford Crystal Ball. The seven solid gold christmas ornaments representing the seven points of the Nativity. There is the Joseph, the Mary, the baby, the cradle, the three wise men, the angel and the Star. These items were designed as a unique attempt to honor the Nativity in gold and while the German artist - Hausinger - has gone relatively unnoticed in the 20th Century, he has earned some notice in the past few years as items like these have come to light. Given to Evelyn Brevard during World War I as a gift from her family, the ornaments have been reviewed through the Lost Art Internet Database to ensure there was no Jewish lineage, which is proper protocol for European artifacts coming on the auction block. The ornaments have been deemed legitimate." He nodded to everyone giving them full satisfaction that our due diligence has been done.

"These items will be pricey on the immediate auction; however, as Christies was running them through art channels, the Smithsonian took interest and has requested the ornaments go on the 2 year Christmas Tour starting next year. Your options, in my opinion, are to sell them straight out and claim around $200,000 or put them under Foundation ownership, send them on tour, and once the pieces become more well known, sell them for half a mill. Christies has given their opinion on this but I don't want to influence you." Then he was silent. There was discussion. It was finally decided that it would be a great honor to have the pieces on display with the Smithsonian for the two year tour and enhance the Brevard family's patronage of the arts.

The paintings of Clinton and Nelson Brevard were revisited. The final decision was to hang the paintings at the Brevard Foundation until a later date. The estate would be reduced by around $50,000 which was tolerable since we were likely to clear nearly $1 million for the entire estate excluding the house.

Aunt Claire, James' wife, requested a repeat review of several diamond rings which Uncle James rejected. His thought was that the jewelry had been picked over enough and that if we did not liquidate, it would all end up lost or in a Goodwill somewhere. In other words, cash it out!

Then Quinn entered a new item. "There is a final item which has not been discussed. The 1976 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith, purchased by Nelson Brevard in 1976 and which is currently owned by the Brevard Foundation, has been in the exclusive care of Ben Brevard for more than 20 years. I recommend gifting the car to him as it is one of the few things in the estate he has ever cared for. And, he has cared for it diligently. Thoughts?"

"Well, Quinn," said Uncle James, "you have a noble intention but I have just recently had a private conversation with Phil about a certain Rolex watch given to Ben as a Christmas gift under unusual circumstances. While the watch was not his to be given, I accepted the request to allow it to remain with Ben as a gift and not apply a debit to Ben's reserve. However, to gift two very valuable items might be asking too much from the estate. What is the car's current value?" asked Uncle James.

"In its present condition, it would secure around $60,000 from an enthusiast collector," replied Quinn.

I interjected before any more could be said. "Let me first thank Quinn for his generous nature. The fact is, it's HE who loves the car," and everyone laughed. "Uncle James, I agree with your assessment of the gifting. In Quinn's defense, he was unaware of the facts surrounding the watch so to be fair, I will agree to have the two thirds value applied to my reserve and keep the car. If that's acceptable?"

"Yes," said Phil, my father. "We appreciate your cooperation, here, Ben."

Uncle James said he remembered the car well and couldn't wait to see it again. "Is it pristine?" he asked.

"Oh yes," said Quinn. "It is beautiful and there is one guy in town who has maintained it. He has kept in perfect condition." Uncle James smiled. "A dying breed, I'm sure."

Quinn continued. Ryan was texting me the whole time. I could barely concentrate.

"The matter of the general ledgers and journals needs to be resolved," said Quinn. "They have no value and Christies wants no part in them. They could be given to the historical society and put on display in the museum or they could be handed over to the Foundation and displayed there. Outside of that, I don't have any recommendations," Quinn concluded.

"On display," chimed Uncle James, "is not an option I'm interested in. You Phil?"

"Not particularly," responded my father. "I would say put them in a storage facility for 20 years and let the kids figure it out when it's their turn." There was a chuckle among the group.

"Why?" asked Brandon, the son of Annaleigh and Jacob Sutton. It was his first time speaking up in these proceedings. His sister Emma had said nothing at all. None of the grandchildren had, actually.

"Because son," said Uncle James, "there is information in those general ledgers, dated as it is, that would implicate the Brevard name in lots of antiquated business practices which have no bearing on our business model today."

"I'm sorry Grandfather, I don't understand. What kind of practices?'

"The kind that do not need airing," responded James firmly.

"Sorry Grandfather, may I have an example of the business practice in question?"

"Uh oh," I thought.

"Brandon, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but things back then were different then they are now. People were not paid on a fair scale. Sometimes they were paid based on who their daddy was. Sometimes, they did some dirty deeds for the boss on the side and were paid more. Sometimes, they were paid less. In other words, there was no equality in the workforce back in those days."

Phil spoke up, "That is correct, Brandon. In each instance these types of details get out, there are certain groups who like to make mischief. And in doing so, end up staining reputations, even creating class action lawsuits. It inevitably turns into something it should not," said Phil.

"Is there evidence in those journals that slaves were used to work the fields?" asked Brandon quietly, carefully. Claire put her hand over her chest in dismay.

"Uh oh, again," I thought. "O god," Ryan texted me.

"Absolutely not!" responded Phil and James at the same time. James continued, "We are a twentieth century family and did not participate in any such thing," he said with impatience factoring into his voice.

"Well I don't see the problem," said Brandon. "In my recent ethics course, we studied this very thing and there is a jurisprudence to being fair, transparent, and upstanding with these types of records. Sticking them under a rug, is wrong!" said Brandon, with some force, I might add.

Margo roller her eyes. It was plainly visible for all to see. I knew this back and forth was going to get on her nerves. Ryan was texting me, "what an idiot."

Claire jumped in to offer an encouraging word. "Brandon, honey, it's ok that you have these questions but this might not be the forum given all those present. Do you understand? Do you?" she repeated.

I texted Quinn taking her hint. "Put the ptv guy on mute so he cannot hear anymore now"

Margo jumped in now, "Brandon, your grandma is right. This is not the forum. I applaud your willingness to poke it with a stick and ask hard questions but not now. This should have been done another time." And her voice began to rise and the crocodile eyes glazed over. "In fact, I would suggest, Claire, that the fact your grandchildren know no more than they do, is a clear failing on your part!"

"How dare you, Margo. What do you know,,,"

Margo interrupted and snapped, "Dammit Claire, you and James couldn't wait to get out of here. You took off and haven't been back one time. And here in these meetings, I have watched you nearly cry over a dozen things when in fact you had nothing but disdain for the whole place back then! That aside, you all should have given some history or context to these kids so at least they would know where they came from! Hailing from Virginia as you do, I'm sure these brilliant children have a fair understanding of YOUR family heritage dating back to the Civil War!"

Ryan texted me, "Fuck!"

Erin texted me and Joe, "Does she bite?"

Quinn sat silently, which I was very pleased with.

"Dear," said Phil, "take a breath. You are too close to it. Let's all relax."

"I apologize, Claire, for my tone but not my message. There is a gap in what these kids do know and what they should know." Speaking to Brandon, "you have backbone, son, and you have the right end of the stick. No one will deny you that. But what you suggest has consequences. I only wish I could spell it out more plainly."

Claire said, "Thank you, Margo, for that. And in certain ways, you were not wrong. But that's on me and shouldn't be said in front of these kids."

Then, of all things to happen, Ryan spoke up. "I'm sorry to interrupt, everyone, but I would like to say something." He paused to see if there was disagreement. They continued, "I have been there. I have been to Downton Abbey, or whatever." there was a chuckle around the skype room. Margo asked, "Did he just infer I would be Lady Grantham?"

"The Dowager, I would think," said Claire, getting her revenge. There was another laugh.

"Sorry everyone, let me start over without the humor," said Ryan. "I have been there and I have felt the HAZE that big old house drops over you. I have stood in front of these huge portraits and expensive things. Actually, I was there on the podium when they renamed that football stadium after the Brevards. What you all need to remember is all of that was for Ben. Not the family. They don't even remember us. They were shouting and yelling and cheering for Ben that night. I'm not sure I should have even been on that podium with him. He got those football players to clean up the streets and take care of the old people. He got `em to coach little league sports and paint old buildings. Not us. We haven't done anything for that place. This is my point: Everything that happens now that is bad sticks to Ben and that is not fair. They award him for good things but it will be his name in the mud with these claims. I mean, it will turn into a mess with people saying, "Isn't that nice. We give you a football stadium while your sorry asses got rich off my poor ancestors!"

"Language!" said Becky, Ryan's mother. "I have told you." I don't think she has told him much to be honest. He does what he wants.

"Damn," whispered Erin in my ear. Ol' boy was taking up for me. He was defending my honor in front of the whole family. Wow! But he was right. The extended family had a much smaller stake in this business.

Ryan continued, "Brandon, I am lucky to have seen it first hand and if you and Emma would give me a chance to talk to you about what it was like, I think we could help solve for the problem. Deal?"

"Yes, Ryan. I think we'll take you up on that," said Brandon.

"I would like to sit in on that conversation, if you don't mind, Ryan," said Uncle James.

"Preferably not Grandfather, maybe a later conversation. This needs to be between me and my cousins," responded Ryan. Emma and Brandon smiled, a little amused by Ryan's rebelliousness.

"Fair enough," said Uncle James.

"And far enough" I texted to Ryan.

"Brilliant," said Margo. "Seems you really got hold of things during your visit, Ryan. I'm sure your family is very proud of you," she said. He smiled, not sure what to say. It was his first encounter with my mother.

Quinn picked the call back up and turned the public television guy back on. "That was high spirited and I appreciate everyone's participation. No decisions at this time, except that, the books should be removed to the Foundation and either locked in a vault or in an empty office for now." After a pause, Quinn continued, "one more thing. The Christmas party. Do you need me for anything?"

Aunt Claire responded, "Margo has the invitations and I have the food. You have the room assignments. Remember everyone, I need your tuxes and dresses so that I can ship them by the first of next week. Margo, I have found Cook to be a little tedious. Is there something I should do to appease her?

"Better you than me when it comes to her," responded Margo. "She never did anything I wanted but she is the finest cook in Central Alabama. To have hired someone else would've sent her over the edge. Just put your foot down if you need."

I thought that was funny. Cook is Kent's mother and she is difficult. She's the reason Kent won't move on with his life and settle down. Nobody is good enough for her but, Margo is right. She is the best cook.

"Good," said Quinn. Once we know the flight schedules, we will arrange transportation to have you brought in."

Ryan texted me "Uhaul" and I laughed but nobody knew what was so funny.

Quinn continued after shooting me a look, "and that's all folks. The show is over!" and everyone applauded. Then, Quinn took the stage again. "I want to thank you all. This has been the greatest experience of my life. If anyone had told me six months ago I would be involved in something this big, I would have..."

Uncle James interrupted. "Quinn, son, let me stop you there. Your message is appreciated but it is only a mention to what you have done for us. You have brought clarity and objectivity to this project. You have been informative and entertaining. Other families, I have seen, have made this a miserable experience while we have been on pins and needles waiting for the next episode. Am I wrong? To be specific, I don't know about you Phil but I have been feeling a little homesick through this whole process. I have not been involved nor have I kept up as I should and it is a failing on our part, to Margo's point." Everyone nodded in agreement. "Quinn, we owe you a huge amount of thanks and it is with that we offer you this. Phil?"

"Agreed, James. Quinn," said my father, "we are unclear if Ben gave you a financial agreement for completing this project and if he didn't, well you need to have that conversation with him. As for James and myself, we have each agreed to award you with $10,000 each from our personal trusts in appreciation for a job well done and with it comes the hope that if your mother ever decides to land where you land, her moving expenses will be taken care of in full."

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Quinn. "I can't believe it. That is the nicest thing I have ever heard. No one has ever done anything like that for me. I just can't believe it." He was shaking his head in disbelief but smiling when I kicked him under the table and he looked up and swatted me.

"And, he is going to need new clothes," I said, creating a mystery. "Quinn has been offered a position with Christies in project management. They really like what he has done here." Everyone on the call cheered!

"Now Quinn," said Margo, "We need an update on the house!"

Quinn's eyes got big. The horse was out of the stable.

"What house? I haven't decided on a house yet. What have you told them Quinn?" I asked.

"Well Ben, there is a house I haven't shown you. But the offer was accepted last night and so I think it's a go," he looked up at me with some terror on his face. It was funny to see. "I think this choice meets all of your objectives, Ben."

"You mean `our' objectives?" I asked. He nodded.

"Well lets see it!" I demanded.

Quinn popped the screen and a house appeared. It was a one story ranch in what appeared to be a lovely neighborhood, with a beautiful lawn and garden, a large live oak tree. There was a stone facade and it really was quite beautiful.

"I present 1826 Park Lane," said Quinn with some flair. "4 bedroom ranch built in the 50's, modernized 4 years ago. It has a 3 car garage, a swimming pool," and as he flipped through the gorgeous pictures of woodwork, trim, fireplaces, and bathrooms, he reached the one picture that just floored me. "And it is complete with a sunken living room!" Everyone was oohing and aahing and nodding in approval. It was gorgeous, no doubt about it.

"Where is this house?" I asked.

He let the silence hang in the air for a bit. Nobody moved. Then he responded, "The fashionable district of Highland Park in Dallas, Texas."

"Oh damn upon damn!," I thought. It was amazing and Dallas. I could live in Dallas. I was stunned. What a fantastic choice. I bet it was competitive - a house like that doesn't sit long anywhere.

Margo punched Phil in the arm and screamed, "Why didn't we do something like that Phil?"

"Well dear," he drawled. "You just had to live in Naples, Florida."

Becky, Ryan's mother, said, "Well, Ben? What do you think? We love it."

Margo asked, "Quinn, exactly how far is this house from George Bush's?"

"About 6 blocks, ma'am," he said. Everyone laughed. Margo replied, "if you don't take it son, I might!"

"I have one question," I said.

"Just one, not three?" said Ryan.

"Shut up!" I barked "Quinn, where did you get the money to make such an offer on a house like this and wasn't that presumptuous?" I asked.

"That was two questions!" exclaimed Ryan. Now everyone was really laughing. He was gaining momentum. I think the crowd liked him razzing me. I gave him an expressionless look.

Before he could say anything, Phil jumped back in, "Ben, while Quinn has done an amazing job, it was really your foresight and thoughtfulness that started this, along with the fact, you have lived at Brevard your whole life, maintaining our home. We knew you would have to be the one to get this done for the family and you have done well." he said with a smile.

"We always knew," said Margo. "You would be the one."

"And with that," said father, "your Uncle James and I have also agreed to give you $50,000 from each of our personal trusts to go to the purchase of YOUR first home."

I was speechless for a moment. It was an incredible moment. It was another moment on a long list of moments recently incurred. I looked at Erin who was nodding yes to me. I looked at Quinn who was also nodding yes to me. I looked into the camera and said "Dad, Uncle James, your generosity is second to none," then I got up from my chair and walked out into the foyer. I had to weep. I had never called my father `dad' before but he surely felt like one today. You see, it was not about the money. With a little over $6 million in trust and another $1.8 million coming from the sale of the firm, the house at $1.2 million was no problem. It was the grand gesture. It was the remembrance of his love for Ian, for me staying behind to be the last Brevard to maintain the estate, it was all of them seeing me as somebody, for the first time. I heard Margo yell into the skype for me to get my ass in gear and tell them my decision. "The second coming may happen first!" she quipped. "I'm picturing a family reunion in May in Dallas, Texas. What do y'all think?" she asked, waiting for me.

"I can't wait to have drinks with Ben. Just a gin and tonic. I bet he's so much fun," said Becky.

"I would look forward to it," said Claire.

"Can we look at dates in May dear?" asked Uncle James.

I hadn't even decided yet and they were making plans.

"That doesn't give me much time to decorate," said Quinn.

"A family reunion would put your butt into gear, though. Prevent you from procrastinating," laughed Margo.

I went back into the room and sat down. Everyone was smiling at me. I said, "Well you don't HAVE to give me all that money, but if you're offering, then the house... is... SOLD!" and with that, I jumped from my chair and leapt into Quinn's lap and latched my face onto his. Then I felt Erin behind me and he wrapped his arms around me. Then Joe was behind Quinn who wrapped his arms around us all! Quinn leaned forward just a bit and hit the Escape button and ended the call. And that is how it is done, how you disposition a grand old southern estate, belonging to an old but prosperous family, well meaning but flawed, with dignity and class.

A single word text popped up on my phone from Ryan. "Stud"

The four of us went out. We went out on the little town. We turned the pub into party central. We bought rounds for everyone. And, greatly, there was none of that "Mr. Brevard" shit. It was all "hey Ben this and hey Ben that." It was a great night. If I had sponsored more nights like that in the past, I would have been the most popular guy in town. The other thing we all noticed was that a number of guys in there who were hot!

The next morning came fast. I crawled out of bed leaving Quinn snoring and humming. He is so cute. I texted Erin to get up. He finally dragged down to the kitchen. We had coffee then got all the necessities together. We had to drag a small Queen Anne table up to the third floor and out the window onto the room. We brought two bottles of champagne and 5 champagne flutes. There was a simple white linen table cloth. We set it up in the middle of the room.

Erin came and stood by me and held my hand as I looked over the country landscape. What would I trade for a friendship with Erin Kincaid? Not a thing. Nothing exists on earth or in heaven that could be better. I asked him, "Can I pull this off do you think? Do you think I can do it?"

"Oh yes," he said deeply. "And you will."

"You are looking a little old these days, did you know?" I asked, sparking a little sass.

"Fuck you, MISTER BREVARD!" he said mockingly. "I have yet to be called MISTER KINCAID, thank you."

"Congratulations on that touchdown," I responded as we both laughed. I looked at him and asked, "Do you want to fuck sometime?" It sounded matter of fact but it was a bit serious.

"Let's get Quinn settled then see about it. I can't imagine how sex he is without his clothes."

"He is all that," I responded. "And passionate."

"Hmmm. By the way, we will have to keep an eye on Joe when your Ryan is around. He has the hots for him. You know how he gets."

"Ryan can handle his own. That boy is a whip."

Just then Quinn, being pushed by Kent and Joe came through the window. It was a brisk Friday morning in November. Quinn barely had one eye open.

"What the hell are we doing out here this early in the morning?" he asked groggily.

"It's 10 am, Quinn. The day is half over!" I chided. I took him by the hand and pulled him over to the ledge beside me. He asked what the champagne was for. Hadn't we celebrated enough last night.

I told him, "Quinn, I'm going to tell you a story."

"Here we go," said Kent. I gave him the blank look.

"Quinn, there were two brothers who were very competitive. And the father called the two sons together and told them whichever of his sons was the fastest and most clever, would inherit all of his worldly possessions, his talents and his gifts. Whichever of his sons to reach the top of the world first would win! He looked at the older son and said `GO!'. The boy went out and bought a jeep. He loaded down with everything he would need. Food, gloves, googles, boots, whatever. He drove that jeep across the land until he found the highest mountain. He got out all his gear and headed up that mountain. He climbed and climbed. He weathered the storms, the wind, and the falling rock. And finally, he reached the top of the mountain. He drove his stake into the ground, held his arms out wide and yelled out "I have done it. I have reached the top of the world! He climbed back down the mountain as fast as he could. He drove back across the land and returned home. Father, he said, I did it. I made it to the top of the world and back in 3 weeks! Can't be beat!

Then the father looked at the younger son and said, "GO!" The younger son ran across the yard and into the garage. He pulled out a ladder and latched it to the side of the house. He climbed up on top of the roof. Then, he looked over and saw there was a higher roof so he scurried across and climbed up top of that. He stood tall and extended his arms and said, "I win!"

The older brother looked up curious and dismayed. "How do you figure?" he asked.

"I reached the top of my world in 30 minutes!" he exclaimed.

"Wow," said Joe.

"I don't understand," said Quinn, trying to make sense of it.

"Quinn, The size and view of the world is a matter of perspective. You, we rather, are standing on top of MY world. Everything you see has been mine for 42 years. But this is the old world and it's time for a new one. So, let me tell you this: I lost my first love which I never intended to do. I lost my second love which I was destined to do. I'm not losing my third, so, in the words of your generation, do I need to put a ring on it?" I asked, confidently.

"Oh my God. Is this happening?" Quinn asked. "We are doing this now? Up here. Right now. You are proposing to me?" he placed his hand over his mouth and continued uttering things. Kent shouted at him, "Get it together man! It's a yes no question!"

Quinn straightened himself and took a look out over the landscape. He looked back at me, and putting his hand on his hip, as he always does, responded, "Well you don't HAVE to put a ring on it but...if you're offering...then the answer is...YES!"

A number of things happened at one time and I somehow observed each. I dropped to one knee and presented the ring box I had purchased downtown the previous week. Erin grabbed his chest as if to hug himself. Kent placed a strong hand on Quinn's shoulder to steady him. Joe popped the champagne bottle.