First let me thank you all for the votes and emails. And as I've said before, this is not meant to be the next great novel, so if that's what you're looking for, I'm sorry to disappoint. I started it wanting to do a running chronicle that spans years like a soap opera, so it may never actually reach a satisfactory end for some people. With that in mind, if you haven't read all previous chapters, I suggest you do so before proceeding.
If I haven't already scared you off, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do writing it. All mistakes are mine. All people, places and institutions are made up, this story in no way reflects reality and any similarities to it are coincidental. Enjoy.
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Chapter 03
Mason breathed a sigh of relief as they left the traffic of the greater Boston area behind them. He and Ardella were on their way to Arlington so he could get a look around Mason Hall. Because it was part of her thesis, strings had been pulled the previous year so that Ardella had access to the property. Cybil had wanted to come along, but her shift at work would start before they got back. The drive was turning pleasant as they got farther away from the Boston traffic, and Mason started liking the idea of moving out in that direction. It wouldn't be any farther to travel than it had been for him living outside Charleston.
It was quiet in the car for the most part, Ardella sorting through a large folder in her lap. Mason's interest in the hall and the possibility that she would get to prove her thesis with a real renovation, had begun to sink in. She was nervous and excited, if she could sell him on her plan that day, it would practically guarantee her thesis being accepted by the dissertation committee. She felt like she was playing catch up though, only having had one day to get organized, then making this trip the next.
Mason had called Allan that morning and told him about the hall and what he knew of the story behind it. He'd expected Allan to give him grief over it. But to his surprise Allan seemed quite interested. After hearing Mason out, Allan explained that he had worked hard to attract people from both Harvard and MIT. But under the courts thumb it had been hard to compete. Now that they were beginning to rebuild and possibly expand, hiring from some of the brightest young people in the country was even more important.
"If this hall were to work out," Allan told him. "Not only would it give you a place to live while you're attending MIT that could be secured. But we could provide secure housing for some of the more promising students at both universities, gaining an early advantage when it came to hiring. It's something we could continue long after you've moved on yourself. Maybe even offering a few scholarships eventually."
He went on to tell Mason that even if he wasn't too sure about the hall after seeing it, he wanted him to keep the option open until Allan could make it out. And assured him that if he decided to go ahead with the purchase, Allan had local contacts at both Harvard and in the firm where he clerked while at Harvard that could handle any legal needs.
Brigid said that if he bought it, she was coming out to see it, and surprisingly to meet Cybil. She said the place sounded creepy, with the old guy living there like a hermit all those years, and she wanted to make sure it wouldn't suck him in too. He'd laughed at that while deciding he'd worry about the two women meeting when it happened.
Mason Hall wasn't actually on Route 2. It was just up on the same long hill that the route followed. You had to take a winding one lane out of Arlington, that soon turned to gravel, to get there. After about four miles on it, Ardella had Mason turn down a drive through some trees. "The property starts here," she told him, "and we'll get a glimpse of the hall around that corner ahead, but then we'll lose it again for a moment."
"How much land is there?" Mason thought to ask for the first time. He's been focused on the building. The land it sat on hadn't registered.
"There are four hundred and eighty acres overall, it's a half mile wide and a mile and a half deep. Though the boundary isn't straight by any means, it follows a seasonal stream bed along the east side." And she pointed to their left but behind him. "If you buy the hall, about three hundred and fifty thousand of the price will be for the land." That was twelve times the size of the Charleston property Mason realized, trying to visualize it.
Halfway through the next turn, he stopped. It was a damn big building was Mason's first thought. He'd known it was five stories, but it looked twice as wide as it was tall, which he hadn't figured on. Set behind a screen of elm and maples, he couldn't see it all, but the red brick construction with white stone accents looked very impressive to him.
"The red brick was brought in from England and the white granite came from India." Ardella told him, "That extravagance was the first of many that kept Everett from finishing the hall. Shipping it in like that was ten times the cost of using native sources. Probably one of those things that kept his father from giving him more of the family fortune to spend."
Mason started forward again, wanting to get there and see it clearly. After another couple turns they were driving out of the trees. Mason had never seen something so out-of-place. It would have seemed at home in downtown Boston or Charleston, not squatting there in a wooded meadow. He liked it at first sight, maybe it was just the surprise, but it was kind of grand in a looming edifice way.
Ardella started pointing as soon as they climbed from the car. "All the quoins, stooled sills, plain headers and copings are of Kashmir granite and are structural, not facing." She sounded proud of the place and Mason couldn't help grinning. "The glass is good in almost all the windows, though it would probably be better to replace it with dual or even triple panes." She went on, pointing at the boards covering the windows on the first two floors.
