had more fun chasing them than pulling fish from the sea. Shucks, t'wasn't that I didn't like your company or like to fish, but damn, sometimes other things just get to be more important. I wish you could have understood that.” Bill knew he had lost a friend when Dan announced he was no longer going on the fishing trips.
"Hey Dan," Bill called aloud as if his words would reach Dan on the wings of the wind, “nothing personal old buddy, I just fell in love with Carmel." He jabbed the cigarette in the dashboard ashtray, putting out its fire, and snuffing out the memories of Dan.
Picking up the sheaf of papers at his side, he glanced at the unused fishing gear on the back seat, "Heck with 'em," he said to himself, “I'll get them in the morning." His thoughts switched to Gertrude, and his anxious desire to share with her the news he was bringing home.
With a light bounding step, aware of the hour, and the sleeping children, Bill entered the house, turned off the porch light, and quietly closed the front door, wondering if Gertrude was awake. A light darted from the master bedroom illuminated the hallway as if in answer to his question.
"You're awake?" he spoke softly.
"Yes, I couldn't sleep, kept waking up. Aren't you awfully late?" She propped herself up against the padded headboard.
Bill, smiling, stopped in the doorway and leaned against the door jam. "Yeah, it just took longer than I expected."
"You look like the cat who ate the canary. Got something to tell me?" She smoothed the covers. "Come, sit down and tell me all about it. Did you close the deal?"
"Yep. Signed, sealed and delivered. Both of 'em."
"Both of them? What do you mean?"
"I closed the deal on the Carmel Cottage Courts. We can move in thirty days."
"Okay," she said pushing the accomplishment aside, "that's what you went down there to do. What is the other one?"
Standing tall, with his chest thrown out, and his thumb stuck under his armpit, Bill announced, "I got a contract to build an elementary school in Monterey."
"Really?" Her response registered suspicion. "I didn't know you had bid on a school down there."
"I hadn't. It's kind of a funny situation. I met a guy on the beach about three months ago who's also a building contractor, and we talked about the possibility of doing some work together as a sub to one another. Well, since then he bid on the school job, but also got into financial problems, and is on the edge of bankruptcy. So, they won't give him the prime job."
Bill moved to the edge of the bed and sat holding Gertrude's hand before continuing. "But, guess what? When they told him he couldn't have the job, although his bid was the one they wanted, he threw in my name. I won't go into all the details, but essentially I assumed his bid, and he'll be working for me. How do you like that?"
"Oh, honey, that's wonderful. When do you have to start? I hope not until after we have moved. I sure don't want to do that job by myself."
"I can start anytime within the next sixty days, but I must start no later than that, and have the school ready for next year. There won't be any trouble with the move."
"I can't believe it." She squeezed his hand. "You are magnificent."
"Not bad for a four-day piece of work, huh?, especially when most everyone else is going bankrupt or standing in bread lines. You are right. No doubt about it.... I am magnificent." He leaned forward, lifted her face toward him and passionately kissed her. "Care to find out?"
"Don't get any ideas. It is too late and you have to work tomorrow." She slid down into the bed.
The words "it is too late" hung in the air like suspended ice crystals. Bill slowly peeled off his shirt, his mood switched, "You know Gertrude, if you could be just a little more condescending at times it would certainly be nice."
"Oh, for who, You?" She threw her body onto her side, her back to Bill.
"Never mind, forget I mentioned it." His excitement was gone. Another business matter had been concluded. In their seven years of marriage that's what all of Bill's efforts were to Gertrude, business matters. Matters which counted in dollars and cents, and nothing else.
"Can you get undressed in the dark? I want to get to sleep. You still didn't say why you were so late."
Bill shut off the light, ignoring the question.
It had been a year since Bill first revealed his thoughts of moving to Carmel. At the time Gertrude was very content with her life style as the social wife of the owner of Munroe Construction.
Then, as the Great Depression began to affect the local businesses and life at the country club fell to excuses for not attending, and after she made several trips to Carmel with Bill searching for business property opportunities, Gertrude softened her stand but held to one condition. She'd make the move providing they had membership in the local country club. As the trips to Carmel became more frequent and Bill's enthusiasm for the seaside beauty began to rub off on Gertrude, it was she who began pushing for an early relocation to the picturesque peninsula, although membership in the local country club remained a condition of the move. It was on this point that Bill and Gertrude found themselves far apart. Bill was interested in his work and those things which surrounded his working day. A social activity to him was casting a line into the surf with his working companions.
Bill Munroe was a frugal man with a strong set of values. He would say of himself, 'Tm dead set against borrowing or lending; neither the either shall I ever be." He dealt on a cash basis, and a man's word was his bond. Bill, although only thirty years of age, was an aggressive and well respected contractor who had managed to continue in business while other construction companies in the Bay Area were surrendering to the on rushing tide of depression. But, now he was completing construction of a school in Hayward, and with no other contracts to be had he too faced the limited options of a depraved economy. Yet, because of his belief and practice of dealing on a cash basis, he found himself in a position of financial advantage. "We have leverage," he would say to Gertrude, "and now is the time to use it." It was shortly after Bill had told Gertrude of his plan to move to Carmel that he began his fishing trips with Dan which, in fact, were searches for a business opportunity in the Monterey Peninsula area.
At first, the search proved to be discouraging. The Monterey Peninsula, along with the rest of the country, was feeling the effects of the Great Depression and business opportunities, while available, were of high financial risk. Bill's efforts to locate suitable housing were also less than favorable. Several months went by with Bill becoming more discouraged and wondering if his plan was to be fulfilled. After one particularly depressing trip and Dan's announcement that he was no longer going along, Bill suggested to Gertrude that they give up the idea.
Her response was quick. "Oh, no you don't. I've already told my friends at the club that we are moving, and I'm not going to tell them different now. What's happened to all that leverage talk of yours?"
That evening, after the Munroe's two children, Beth, age 5, and Billy, age 3, had been put to bed, Bill and Gertrude sat talking about their plan, the failing businesses in Oakland, and the need for a fresh start. They discussed the need for an opportunity to put their stored up leverage to an advantage and the practicality of relocating to an area of beauty and wealth. Both agreed with each other's evaluation of Carmel being the ideal place to raise their children and with their prospects of sharing in the pleasures of an affluent society. "No," Gertrude concluded, "We are not going to abandon our plan."
On
