Chapter 14: Epilog A Happy Man
October 2009
Amanda had everything worked out, she thought. She'd done a good job of convincing everyone that sacrifice was necessary, but she had not foreseen the pitfalls that presented themselves. No one could have.
We were married in December, 2008. Mona and Patrick changed schools after Christmas vacation. Paige's parents came for the wedding, but after deciding that they would prefer to live next door, where my office was located, they returned home to Boston, temporarily, they said.
My parents, my sister and her boyfriend came for the wedding. They agreed that they liked Paige, but my mother was opposed to my taking on the responsibility of raising two more children that I had not sired. She adored Phillip, her blood relative and Amanda eventually won her over.
Everything was too small for three adults and four children. We bought a new, larger car, but we were cramped in the house. The boys argued about which one would take the upper bunk, and the girls squabbled over closet space.
Paige didn't fit in well in my businesses. She was great at problem solving, but she complained that I was too set in my ways. She missed her job as a paralegal.
It was after the birthday party in March that we begin discussing the living conditions. What we needed was a new home, designed to accommodate our growing family. Building elsewhere would defeat the purpose of Page's parents taking over my office next door.
We decided to add two rooms to the existing house, a large family room with another bedroom and bath above it. But before the addition was started, Paige became pregnant. Was it too late to add a nursery to the plan? We reconsidered building exactly what was needed, a large home that would accommodate a wing for her parents.
Somehow, we made it through the school year without anyone being seriously injured in the daily battles over use of the upstairs bathroom.
What kept us sane was the knowledge that we would soon be in our new home. Paige revealed that she had some money. We found a suitable acreage, and held nightly meetings to plan the house. Once that was settled, she stopped talking about missing work and became content to be a stay-at-home mom.
We took two trips in the new car. First, in June, we attended Ginny's marriage to Randy. We took the kids. Mary preferred to stay home. Randy's grandparents opened their home to us. My parents stayed in a motel.
Everyone was especially attentive to Paige, wishing her good luck with the birth of our child. My mother said that she was glad she had witnessed our marriage. "At least this one will not be a bastard," she said, patting Paige's tummy.
The second trip was to Boston. Paige and I went to bring her parents back with us. They expected to move into the little house next door, but when we told them about our plans to build a custom home, they participated in the design of their wing. Mary flatly refused a separate wing for her own use, saying that she wanted to be close to her family.
Paige brought us to our senses one night when we had six different ideas about the color of tile to be used in one of the bathrooms. "If we don't stop designing and start building, the baby will be here, I'll be pregnant again, and we'll have to start the design process over."
We came to terms with a contractor the next morning. I told him to surprise us with the color of the tile.
I'm a happy man. My daughter taught me that.
Amanda came to see me one afternoon. Paige waved at me as she pulled away from the curb. I blew her a kiss, knowing that she'd brought Amanda to the store. She wanted to talk.
"I like your hair," I said.
"Paige braided it. She said you would like it."
"You look cute."
She became serious, like she hadn't heard my compliment.
She guided me to my desk, which afforded a limited amount of privacy. "We're out of money, Dad."
"We can't be. Who told you that?"
"You know I don't talk to anyone else about what's in the safe. It's empty."
"Oh, is that all?" I asked, relieved. It was obvious that she had not been introduced to the concept of a bank account. "I'll get you some cash," I said, already thinking of how I could skim a few hundred dollars off the top of the daily receipts before I gave it to John for deposit. I'd have to be careful. Mrs. Nixon was no dummy. If she caught me stealing from myself, it would be hard to explain about the safe and our secret stash.
"Good," Amanda said, and I could see that there was something more that she wanted to talk about. "Do you love me, Dad?"
