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I’m almost settled into my new apartment, progressing little by little. Still, there’s a lot to sort out and a lot of stuff to deploy, but the move is well underway, winding down actually, and I can gradually handle what is left. I can live here without much difficulty as I clean it up.
I’ve gotten to know Miss Comportment a bit better. She came over several days ago, the first evening I was here, and I was complemented to have her visit and her bottle of wine, but it was the end of a long and trying day for me. I had to cut the visit a little short. Thankfully, she understood and only stayed for 20 minutes or so.
Tonight is better, I’m enjoying Marjorie’s company immensely.
“I have another bottle of cab, the 2023 Legend from Pasa Robles? Same as the one I brought the other day,” she says. “I usually prefer buying New York wines, but decided to go in a different direction today. Anyway, glad we can finally relax.”
She stands up to pour the wine, hopping over a few boxes, not even losing a step.
“I’m curious,” she says, handing me the glass. “What do you think about Wanda’s team and how their first two months are going?”
She catches me off-guard by the question. Marjorie is very ebullient and energetic and a lot of fun to hang out with, but I still feel the need to be on guard a bit. She is a journalist, after all. I have to be careful about what I say that may find its way into one of her columns. I don’t think she would quote me, but I’m not sure at this point.
“I suggest that we agree here and now that our conversation is, and will remain, private. Is that OK with you?” I ask.
“Of course,” she replies. “You can trust me.”
With that we go on an intense and exhausting two-hour plus journey into Middle Valley politics, plans, personalities, and expectations. We find some common ground, some not-so-common ground while exchanging a lot of information and rumors. I try to signal my diminishing energy level with increasingly frequent yawns – all legitimate. I am not pretending.
“Well, I can see you are wearing down,” Marjorie says. “I think it’s time to call it an evening. But I’d like to do this again, more than once, hopefully.”
“I’d like that too,” I say. “Maybe after I am totally organized. Next time I’ll pick the libation. How about a Pinot Noir?” I asked, “I found an organic one that I really like.”
—
The next day, it turns out Albert is downtown on business but somewhat pressed for time. We connect and agree to enjoy the beautiful day on a park bench with coffee and some donuts.
“Thanks for giving me some time,” I tell him. “I’m looking into creating a new forensics lab somewhere in Middle Valley. The need for the lab in Middle Valley is established and is not an issue. I’m just not sure where it should be situated.”
And, of course, Albert came through as I had hoped.
“Hilltop has a lot of unused and available ground that might work. Give me an idea about the size of the facility. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”
All at once, situating it at Hilltop had become his idea. Of course, there are other possibilities, maybe even the empty building across from the Riverside, but Hilltop is, I think, the best option.
We speak preliminarily about where the lab might be located on the property, and he gives me some good ideas – how it would function without interfering with other ongoing activity, what sorts of technical details may be needed, and the business structure for renting the place – all before parting ways. With everything else going on right now, that was about all I could process.
I’m excited and, until it’s a done-deal one way or the other, I’ll be on edge.
—
I had promised Silas that I’d make him dinner in my new place, and now I am worried about time. I dial him quickly.
“Hey, can we push back an hour? My day in town ran a little long,” I ask him.
He hesitates. “I guess, but let’s eat right away. I have an early day tomorrow.”
I can hear the stress in his voice, but I’m relieved he’s still able to meet.
Dinner is relatively easy, just a shrimp stir-fry with veggies and rice, and it turns out fine. Silas seems to love it. He appears to almost – almost – relax a little. I attempt to tell him about my day at Hilltop, but I can tell he’s not listening.
His brain is fully absorbed in Paul’s situation and how to handle it and the fact that he’s done little to nothing in his new role with Wanda. He is not happy, of this I’m certain.
“You have to take advantage of this time,” I tell him. “Create a plan. What do you want your department to look like? What is the mission?”
He shakes his head. “I just don’t know,” he says. “I’m not sure about all this.”
I listen and nod and sip my wine.
My Hilltop news will have to wait.
Jenny Page