Patrick Conner ran his hand across the well worn railing that surrounded the old house's wide veranda. As president of Archer and Sons, the construction and demolition company that his grandfather, Thomas Archer, had founded, the forty-three year old had an almost reverent appreciation for the care that had gone into the construction of the Victorian era structure.
"Damn shame," he said under his breath as he looked up at the twenty-two room mansion, taking in the craftsmanship that went into the outer walls as well.
His company had won the contract to take the old building down, making way for a mini-mall that the County Board had approved. The site was perfect, they had voted, just on the edge of the county line and an easy drive from two other towns. In his heart he hated to be the one to tear the old lady down, but as the old saying went, if they didn't take it down, someone else would. A clean demolition would give Archer and Sons the inside track on a major portion of the construction contracts.
A young man who looked like a younger version of himself joined the salt and pepper haired man on the porch. Like his father and grandfather before him, Kevin Thomas Conner joined the family business right out of school. Currently, the twenty-three year old was assigned to the demolition half of the company.
"We shouldn't have any problem knocking this old house into a thousand pieces, Dad," Kevin said as he joined his father. "I figure a day to take it down, then maybe two to cart away all the debris."
"Sounds right," Patrick said in agreement with his son's calculations. Despite the much needed influx of cash this job was going to bring, he wasn't approaching it with any measure of enthusiasm.
The lack of which hadn't gone unnoticed by his son who inquired if there was something bothering him. Patrick gave a noncommittal answer, simply stating that it seemed a great waste to trash away a building that such history to it.
"Speaking of history, I heard something really interesting about this place," Kevin said, looking to lighten up his father's mood.
"What would that be?" Patrick asked as he tried the front door, only to find it locked.
"I was talking to Mr. Cage down at the records hall and he said that way back when, this place used to be a whorehouse," Kevin said with a grin.
"You don't say," the elder Conner said with only a slight interest.
"Yeah, it was supposed to be pretty famous," Kevin continued, "They called it the Candy Store."
"Well it must've been before my time," Patrick said as he turned away from the door and looked out on the empty road. "What time was that woman from the county office supposed to meet us out here?" he asked, changing the subject.
"She should've been here by now," Kevin replied as he checked his watch. "Maybe she got stuck somewhere."
"Well while we're waiting, why don't you take the truck and get us a couple of coffees from the diner down the road." Patrick suggested.
"Sure, Dad," Kevin said, "no problem. I'll be right back."
As his son's 4x4 headed down the road, Patrick's attention turned back to the old house. He looked into the empty building through one of the windows. In his memory, he could still see the furniture that once filled the large empty room.
"The Candy Store," Patrick laughed softly to himself, remembering how easily he had tossed aside his son's use of that name. As if any young man his age who grew up in the tri-county area hadn't heard of the famous landmark.
His thoughts drifted back to July 15th, 1976, the day he turned eighteen. A day he would remember for a multitude of reasons. Memories which seemed as fresh as if they'd happened only a few hours ago, and not a quarter century past.
-=-=-
Patrick Conner shuffled nervously as he waited for an answer to the doorbell he'd just rung. The dark haired teen had been standing on the veranda almost ten minutes prior to that, trying to summon the courage to ring that bell. Now that he had, a part of him was almost hoping that no one would come to the door.
A foolish hope that immediately faded as the large oak door swung open and a beautiful woman in a maid's outfit appeared in its place. A few inches shorter than Patrick's five seven, the twenty-four year old had long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. A fact totally lost on the young man as his gaze concentrated instead on the large bust that was barely concealed by the black and white dress she wore.
"May I help you?" the young blond asked, taking in the young man in the red T-shirt and blue jeans.
"I ... I ... have an appointment," a visibly nervous Patrick stuttered.
"And whom shall I say is calling?" she asked, holding back on the swell of laughter that she felt forming deep within her.
"Patrick Conner," he said as he regained most of his composure.
The expression on the young maid's face turned from simple amusement to a knowing smile. She opened the door wider and invited Patrick inside.
"Please have a seat and I'll let Lady Jacqueline know that you are here," she said as she motioned to one of the padded chairs that lined the entry hall.
Taking the closest seat, Patrick watched the young woman walk to the inner rooms. His eyes now fixed on the short black skirt tightly wrapped around the blonde's ass, the young man had to say that the receding view was as delightful as any other. The servant returned less than a minute later, now accompanied by an older brunette wearing, despite the early afternoon hour, a red evening dress with white trim. With long dark hair done up in an elaborate design, the forty-six year old stood five-nine in her matching heels.
"Lady Jacqueline, may I present Mr. Patrick Conner," the girl said.
"Thank you, Donna," the woman in red said in a rich English accent as she gave the girl a name for Patrick to remember. "I'll take it from here."
"Very good, Ma'am," Donna said as she again turned and walked away.
"So you're Billy Archer's nephew," Lady Jacqueline said.
