I built this two story-2,700 square foot home. Outdoor covered spaces include an outdoor kitchen for bar-b-q, boiling crabs, and a serious gas fired wok burner, with access to the outside from a kitchen door. Also, a large covered patio is found through French doors from the living room.

I had just retired early and was spending my 2nd stint as Commadore at my last yacht club board meeting, when I got the call. She had fallen down somehow on the front patio. She had a concussion when someone saw her down. By the time she was at the hospital, it took a while to diagnose internal hemorrhaging of the brain. She was gone that night.

That was 18 months ago. If friends and family had not come to see me a lot in those dark days, I would not have coped very well. I could have easily started drinking, which would have made my life much worse. Now I was coping better, but I was lonely; not lonely enough to attempt to start dating after 30 years, but I did make a conscious effort to keep staying fit. I was also getting tired of cooking for myself. I began to buy takeout food from a few of my favorite delicatessens and go out and eat at some of my favorite spots. The San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission (also known as BCDC) has jurisdiction over bay front properties from the mean high tide line out to 100 feet upland from that line. One of the longtime goals is to develop a bay trail around the perimeter of the bay.

On this particular summer evening, I had stopped by my favorite delicatessen and gotten enough so that I could have leftovers the next night. I normally wouldn’t have…but the bottle of Chilean Carmenère called to me because it was originally grown in the Bordeaux region of France, but in the late 19th century all of the Carmenère succumbed to a fungus. Some 50 years ago, it was discovered that the original vines had been replanted in Chile, before they all had been lost in France; hence my reason for originally trying this lovely red wine a couple of years ago. I bought a plastic wine glass that came in a double set. So, across the High Street Bridge from Alameda to Oakland, then a hard right down to an area administered by the East Bay Park Regional District to a parking lot. Then I hiked the bay trail for a couple of hundred yards to a decent picnic table next to San Leandro Bay, which connected to San Francisco Bay by two ways. Before I began opening up the food, I took in the scene. The evening sun made the water sparkle and the Bay and Laurel trees had a nice aroma in the late afternoon light breeze. Wild Lavender rounded out the smorgasbord of aromatic senses. There are a lot of just head tall thick underbrush around much of the area just east to where I was, the water area being west of me.

I began to unzip my large soft ice chest bag, pulling out large plastic container cups and waxed paper take out containers of food. Suddenly my tranquility was broken by a woman’s voice behind me, “Do you have any spare Change?” I twisted around to see who it was and I said, “Why don’t you sit down over here.” It was not a command but a request to get her out from behind me. The person who sat down opposite me was obviously homeless, but she seemed of sound mind. My instant impression was that even though her clothes were old, they weren’t verry dirty and had been sewn up some, albeit with course stiches. As she sat down, she implored me again with more emphasis, “Do you have any spare change?” I was beginning to form some thoughts and I was honest, “I keep all of loose change and bills that I have broken from a twenty in the console of my pickup, which is back at the parking lot; but mostly I use a credit card for most purchases because I get airline points with it. But let’s say we hiked back to the parking lot and I gave you what I have, what would you do with it.” She considered that for a moment, before she said, “I’d go to that market over on Jeter Street and get something to eat.” I said, “That’s not generally a bad plan, and yet the Jeter Street Market caters to the people who work in this area. It’s 5:30 on a Saturday evening and they’re closed by now.”

She looked dejected and couldn’t seem to look at me, so I offered, “Hey I have plenty, why don’t I make you a plate?” She looked up at me and cautiously said, “Thank you, I would like that.” Since she didn’t inquire about what I had to offer, I figured that she was obviously hungry. I just opened it all up, took out the small package of silverware along with some quality paper plates and started dishing it up. I gave it to her, telling her what everything was. All she asked was, “What is gravlax?” I smiled and said “It is a Nordic recipe for a spicy type of cold cured salmon. I opened the wine and offered her a glass and she eagerly accepted it. I didn’t ask about her circumstances. I figured that she would probably tell me soon enough. I heard her say, “This is all really good! It’s so long since I have had a decent meal.” I stuck out my hand and offered, “By the way, my name is Jim Hunter”. She tentatively took my hand and said, “Barbera Logan…pleased to meet you Mr. Hunter.” “You can call me Jim”, I offered and she came back, “It’s been…seems like a long time, but people used to call me Barb. Logan was my maiden name.” Suddenly she looked away from me, but I could tell she was filled with deep emotion.

Almost a full minute later, an eternity, or so it seemed as I witnessed it; she turned back to me with tear streaks running down her face and blubbering with intermittent sobs, she hissed in a course whisper that left little doubt of her disdain, “The son-of-a-bitch killed himself after he gambled away most of our savings. Then of course any pension he was supposed to get was not valid in a suicide. By the time I had to pay all of the bills, I had to sell the house. After the mortgage was paid off and the bills were paid, there wasn’t enough money for me to live on!” I was thinking about why she didn’t declare bankruptcy, but I didn’t voice it because 20-20 hindsight is worth nothing, especially in a case like Barbera Logan’s. She then lamented, “I live in a little tent out in the brush behind the PG&E corporation yard.” I thought, she wants nothing to do with the standard homeless encampments for obvious reasons.

As I refilled barb’s wine glass, a plan was taking shape in my mind based on a mental picture that was still forming of the character of this woman, who I now knew was no urchin. What was driving this still half-baked plan? I seemed to instantly know that it was empathy. What if I had ever gotten hurt, seriously disabled for any length of time? What would happen to me? How would I handle that? I didn’t seriously think that I ever wind up in a tent. On the other hand, my upper middle class life style would come crashing to a halt. Then I thought, Whisky Tango Foxtrot, here goes, “Tonight, Barb, I metaphorically gave you a fish. I’m going to propose to teach you how to fish. Would you be interested to hear more details?” Her demeaner suddenly shifted and she leaned in with interest. She cautiously said, “Well maybe…I guess I maybe could listen.”

I wasn’t really surprised of her innate fearfulness, after all she didn’t know me. But more importantly her life, at the moment, was probably more fearful than anything that I could imagine. Taking that into consideration, I started off, “Barb I’m thinking that this proposal has two parts. I’ll start off with Part 2, which will be dependent upon Part 1. Based upon my recommendation, I would sponsor you into a job training program designed to put you into a career complete with all of the benefits, full insurance and retirement program. That will include a pension and an optional IRA.” I let that dangle in the air. I let her take all that in, thinking that I knew what her next question would probably be.

I knew that I had figured correctly that she possessed all her faculties when she said, “That all sounds too incredible to be true, Jim, but I suppose it’s time I knew what Phase 1 is.” I was ready for that one and I said, “Barb, during your marriage, is it fair to say that you did all of the domestic chores, while he worked and brought in the income?” She groused, “I worked just as hard as he did, plus I paid all of the bills, but he never gave me any compliments…never!” I speculated, “Maybe that was because he never got any compliments at his work. But here is my point about Phase 1, Barb. I’m a widower and I live in a large two-story home that needs a lot of housework and yardwork and I would rather pay for that service so that I could have some freedom to do the projects that I want to do. It is live in situation and you would start out at $15 per hour. I you work hard and perform basically on your own, I would bump you up to $20 dollars an hour in a month. How does that sound to you?”

She hesitated a good while, before she inquired, “Why are you offering this to me, Jim?” I said, “You mean as opposed to somebody else? That’s a good question. Most of the people who are homeless, become acclimated to the culture. The begging, car break-ins, petty crime, and heavy alcohol and drug use. Most of these people are too undisciplined to be able to ever work under that conditions that I’m asking that you work under. Does that answer your question?” Apparently satisfied with the proposal, she asked, “When do I Start, Jim?” I said with a smile, “Just as soon as you can give your current land lord notice.” Barb saw the wry humor and her answer dripped with sarcasm, “I would burn it if I wasn’t afraid of starting a brush fire! I suppose someone else could call it home.”

Barb started to clean up, backing me up doing the same. I packed most of what was left into empty containers that I had brought in the cold bag with me, while she cleaned up everything else and deposited in the trash can labeled EBRPD. Then we walked to the parking lot and got in the pickup. The ride back to the house took about 15 minutes until I pulled into the large driveway. Instead of walking all around to the front door, I pressed the right fob key and the right garage door opened automatically turning on the garage lights. She followed me in and stopped as I went to the wall switch and turned on the lights, so that when I closed the garage door, the lights would stay on. I looked back at Barb who looked at me and asked, “What kind of car is this? It is so beautiful!” I told her, “This is Tesla Model S. It is all electric and is charged from the solar panels on the roof.” She asked, “Yes, but what do you do when the sun goes down?” I pointed to the large floor to ceiling white panel on the wall, “That is a large storage bank, built by Tesla, that stores about a two-day charge buffer before selling the power to PG&E by turning the meter backwards. Come on in, I’ll show you around.” She was still looking at the car, “Is that candy apple red? I haven’t seen that color since I was teenager.” I commented, “Several new models of different car companies are coming out with their own version of that color these days.”

I opened the back door into the house and held it open for her so I could turn out the garage lights. Closing the back door, “Ok Barb how about the 50tour?” Before she could say yes or no, I pointed out the sanded glass door on the left that said PANTRY. I opened it and gave her a look at the storage space and all that entailed. Then I said, “And just couple more feet here to the right is your room.” I showed the space with a queen-sized bed, a good-sized closet, and a private bathroom with a large shower. As she was taking it all in, I said, “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” The kitchen was large enough that three people could work in it simultaneously. The island was actually a large custom-built unit that was built to move around to facilitate a better working triangle, or you could move it to the dining table and cook and serve off of it. The kitchen, dining room, and the living room were all one space; the only wall separating the entire space was a slight overlap of the kitchen wall. That same wall was the left side of an ascending staircase to a large landing that led to a reverse ascending staircase that led into the 2nd floor recreation room. The wall toward the back of the house was a wall to wall, floor to ceiling library with a rolling ladder, then a full bar complete with bar stools, the other side of that space was a lounging area for reading or socializing. Down a hallway to the right was a large laundry room, complete wrap around metal lattice shelving with plenty of hanger space on the bottom. The wall opposite of the washer and dryer was a 13-inch-deep Ikea floor to ceiling and two double doors wide; an absolute ton of storage space.

I said, as a statement of fact, “Let me show you the master bath.” We walked further down the hall past the general bathroom with a tub-shower setup on the right to a set of duel-raised panel doors on the left opened and we walked into the master bedroom space. The Cal King Bed accentuated by brass to the left took her eye for the moment, which stopped her while she gawked around in what appeared to be genuine fascination. She noted that the walk-in closet was at least twice the space of her tent and therefore she declared it capable of sleeping 2 people. Looking more toward the largest space in the bedroom, she commented, “Your computer has three screens! Isn’t that excessive?” I just said, “Depending on what I’m doing, no.” From there her eyes went to the weight room and the elliptical, “Nice. Easy to stay in shape when you own your own gym.” I said, “I still have to use discipline to do the hour workout every day.” Barb began to apologize, “I’m sorry for being so snarky Jim. Even at our best, my husband and I couldn’t afford to live like this.” I offered, “Truth be told, Barb, I couldn’t either if I hadn’t built this house myself. I bought 4 remnants and combined them into a residential lot, which was a much cheaper than buying a single approved for construction residential lot. The entire construction cost me a little less than $350,000 and before you say that is too much, consider that this is worth about $1.4 million today.”

I pulled the pocket door open to the master bathroom and showed her the large garden jetted tub, and the enclosed steam sauna shower. I said “I thought that you might want to take a hot bubble bath.” I showed her where the bath salts were and then I suggested, “You might want to shower first. Unless you turn on the electric unit back here on the outside, it’s just a nice shower. I’ll get you a bath robe and then you can take as much time as you like. Oh, and here is a new toothbrush.” I closed the pocket door on my way out to give her some privacy and headed back into the recreation room and took a lounge in a comfortable chair and picked up the book I had been reading, thumbed to the bookmark and began reading again.

Some 45 minutes later, Barbara Logan came out in the robe I had given her, which was now her robe, and sat down opposite me. I looked up from my book and made the comment, “You clean up very nicely, Barbara.” I noticed that there was glowing voluptuousness about her as she blushed and said, “Thank you.” She had curves that could not be hidden by the robe that was slightly small for her. She wrapped her arms around herself and swooned, “That was the best bath I have ever had. Air bubbles or jets or both at once! After living in a squaller, it was like heaven! Thank you, Jim.” I looked back at the book and slipped the bookmark into mark my place and laid the book on the small table. When I looked back at her, her expression had morphed into a strained concern. I cocked my head indicating that I was ready to listen. After a moment she asked, “Can I talk to you Jim?” I said, “Of course, what’s on your mind?” She was blushing and cheeks and all down her neck were a crimson shade, as though she really didn’t want to talk, although she needed to say something; but I was surprised at what she told me, “I am really constipated. I can’t really go out at night because of the animals…um, do you have anything that I could take?” I was sympathetic, but I confessed, “No Barb, I don’t keep anything like that type of medicine.” I let that hang in the air for a moment, which seemed to distress her more. I knew I could regret this, but I thought, as long as she accepts it…OH hell, I thought and offered, “About the only thing I can help you with is to give you an enema.” That had an unusual effect on her and she stared into my eyes and mimicked the word with some emphases, “ENEMA! You’re going to give me an…ENEMA?” I asked with empathy and sincerity, “Is that something that you need Barbara?” Her mouth gaped open and then she simply nodded her head. In response, I instructed her to go down to her bedroom and take a large towel out of the linen closet and get prepared on her bed and I would be in just as soon as I got her enema prepared. I watched her as she walked to the stairs, then slowly descending; hanging onto the guard rail with her left and the wall rail with her right hand. Her foot falls on the wooden steps were slow and tentative; even as she disappeared from view, I could hear her footfalls becoming ever fainter until I could tell she was down on the hardwood floor.

I went into the walk-in closet and opened a drawer and looked at the 3 different setups. I selected the 5-quart flow master, that I bought from the Optimal Health Network, and put on the large silver bullet enema nozzle. I picked up a small jar of Vaseline to provide a high viscosity lube that can also moisturize. I filled the blue silicone bag from the kitchen sink a little over half full or about 3 quarts of very warm water. We had swag lamp in there and I took an S hook and some chain pendant to hang the enema bag from one of the ceiling hooks. Her bedroom door was open and she was laying nude on a large doubled up towel. She looked at me with some trepidation. Hoping to put her at ease, I said, “This’ll take me just a moment to set this up, to the right height, Barbara, then together we can get you some real relief. This is an important concept because an enema takes two people to be successful; the giver and the receiver!” She groaned, “I’m glad you know this.” As I worked to get the bag hung from the right height.

I keep my fingernails trimmed and filed impeccably, primarily so that I don’t snag my expensive knit shirts, and yet when I want to lube a woman’s lovely ass, I want the very tactile feeling of inserting my finger up her warm tight butt! Yet, as I inserted my lubricated finger up Barbara Logan’s ass, I wondered if there was a very special kind of hell for a man who had just promised her a job, and then just a little more than four hours later, I was lubricating her ass with my bare finger; yep, there was probably a very special kind of hell destined for me! “Hmm…eem; ooh.” The noise that emanated from her surprised me, as I took out my bare finger and began to insert the Vaseline slathered nozzle. Once past the bulb, she sucked it in to the hilt. I soothed, “This nozzle will feel very warm as the water runs through it, Barb. Let me know if it feels unpleasant.” I let the water flow and then I shut the clamp way down. She actually surprised me by going to her knees, putting her head down and her ass up. As she started taking butt gulps, trying to force the enema as far up as she could, I noticed that her vulva was slicked! Perhaps there was no special kind of hell for me after all. I opened the clamp a little wider after she had taken more than half. Just then a low sensual grown came out of her, as I watched her asshole clench down on the very warm nozzle; then low sensual moans emanated from her. The thought entered my mind, “It seems that Barbara Logan is anally erotic and she is obviously enjoying having an enema given to her. I suddenly realized my cock was tugging at my pants and pulling it out and adjusting it seemed wildly inappropriate under the circumstances.

It was all in her and I offered to help her get into her bathroom. I helped her off of the bed and opened the door for her and said, “Let me take this out of you just before you sit down.” The nozzle was easy to pull out of her, as she sat down on the toilet straining to hold it in while I was still there. I put the setup in the shower and before I could say anything, she grunted, through her clenched teeth, “I’ll take care of it!” I said, “Good night, Barbara.” I left and closed her bedroom door. The dining room table was just opposite of the wall where she was on her toilet, and I sat down in the chair closest to her common wall. I could hear her struggle trying to get it all out. She was having an epic movement. I headed up stairs to my bedroom. I wasn’t sleepy yet, so I fired up the computer and took a look at some of my favorite haunts until I decided that I could finally sleep. My last waking thoughts surrounded the enema that I had just given my new live-in maid. I wondered how that might affect our working relationship, but before any real philosophical insights came to light, I was fast asleep!

I normally get up about 6:30 AM, but for some reason I slept till 7:30 AM this day. Sometimes I shower in the morning but I usually shower after my workout, in the early afternoon. Today was no different. I washed my face and threw some water on my hair, tossed it with a brush, and called it good! I went downstairs to see what was up! Barb was already up and I could her voice humming and singing all over the 1st floor area including the outdoor kitchen, just through the double-dutch door opposite off the kitchen sink. Barbara is no rock star, but her voice has a pleasant lilt. I put a big 3-liter pot on to boil and took the large French Press and put nearly a cup of Black Beard’s Delite into the French Press, then boiling water into the press…just as Barbara came in looked at what I was doing and she declared, “I can make coffee for you.” I said, “This is a very personal endeavor, Barb.” She asked me, “Why is that foaming, is there something wrong with the coffee?” I laughed, “My point exactly, this is called a coffee bloom. It is characteristic of a well selected and very well roasted set of coffee beans, that foam, or more correctly Bloom, is caused by trapped carbon dioxide being released and it signifyingly improves the flavor of the coffee.

I asked her, “What time did you get up this morning, Barb?” She causally said, “A little after 6 am, I slept like a baby, last night.” She looked at me with a shy flirty smile. I met her smile with a broad knowing smile of my own. Neither of us mentioned her enema. I asked her, “Are you ready for breakfast, Barb?” She asked, “What do we have?” I said, “I was thinking of pan frying some venison tenderloin, with home Frys and eggs, what do you think?” She seemed flabbergasted, “Are you kidding, that sounds fabulous!” Then she asked me, “Did you get the deer?” I said, “No, I buy domestic tenderloin by the case lot from the Durham Ranch in New Zeeland.” We had a fine breakfast together, with some good banter between us. After we cleaned up, I suggested, “Why don’t we go get you some new clothes today, Barb?” She beamed, “Thank you Jim, this robe is nice, but hardly suitable to work in (she blushed) with my ass hanging out.” We both laughed, and I said, “Let’s go to my dead wife’s side of the walk-in closet and see if we can’t find you something suitable for you to go shopping for clothes. I will leave you to try on anything that you think may be suitable.” I went downstairs and flipped the TV on to CNN and had a look at what was going on…

15 minutes later Barb came down the stairs in something that was just a little tight on her voluptuous frame, but ok to go shopping in. It was a nice day, so we took the Tesla. Barb remarked, “This is a very luxurious car, Jim. Do you mind if I ask you what it cost?” I responded, “Keeping in mind that that I paid for absolute performance, a little over $140,000. 0 to 60 in a little under 2.3 seconds, and it corners very well.” She seemed incredulous, “That’s what we paid for the house that I had to sell to pay off the debts!” I said sincerely, “Barbra, I know that you had had a hard time, and I am trying to help you get over that, but I am not going to apologize for being fortunate!” She looked at me, and nodded her head. We went another mile, before she offered, “I’m sorry for being such a ‘Debby Downer’, Jim…I was raised better than that!” I tried to be philosophic, “Look at all of the people that buy $80,000 Pickups. No body even looks crossways at them, with their high fuel and maintenance costs. This vehicle doesn’t consume fuel and has low maintenance costs.”

I turned into the shopping center, and parked away from the rest of the cars. As we walked to the store I suggested, “Maybe some work clothes, some casual kicking around stuff, and then something nice to go out in. What do you think, Barb? She blushed red, said “I’ve never felt so pampered!” She came out of the dressing room with a very nice skirt and top combination with a soft matching jacket. She held up her work clothes for my inspection. Then she showed me her casual clothes. I asked her, “Are you satisfied, at least for today, Barb? “She glowed, “I ‘m ecstatic!” I said, “I don’t see the need to go grocery shopping for a couple of days, based on what we have so far. Unless you want to do something else, we should probably get back home and get a few projects started.” She was agreeable, “I’m up for that!”

As we pulled back into the Garage and I plugged the Tesla back in. Barbera Logan conceded, “It really is a beautiful car, Jim!” I smiled at her, “Things are looking up, are they?” She smiled back, coyly, “Yes!” I looked at her more closely. Barbara Logan wore her happiness well, a phenomenal turnaround from less than 24 hours ago when she first approached me.

She took her bags into her room and I went upstairs to go change into my own work clothes. When I came down again, Barbara had on or work clothes on. She said, “I’m going to tackle the front yard and see what I can do those weeds.” “Lunch first?”, I asked. She said, “Your magnificent breakfast is still with me, Jim, perhaps an early dinner?” I offered, “Works for me.”

While Barbara was working in the front yard, I was in the back yard. I had already laid thick paver stones in the majority of the back yard. Now that big domed spark arrester had arrived, I was time for me to build the firepit. I had already sketched what I wanted, and I had it all done in just a little over an hour and a half. I was happy with the result. I decided against checking on Barbars’s progress, opting instead to go upstairs for a workout, then a shower. By the time I got out of the shower, put on some casual wear and came downstairs again, I heard Barbera in her shower.

I had some fresh Alaska sablefish. I also had a decent sourdough starter and I made up a homemade Baggett, and let it rise. I worked up a variety of vegetables to roast. I would bake the fresh Baggett first, though. Barbara came into the kitchen looking fresh in her new casual wear. I smiled at her, which earned me a sultry look! “Watcha making?”, she asked curiously. When I detailed what I was planning, she commented, “You’re the first man that I have met that knew how to cook, how did you learn.” I thought back, as I worked on the dinner,” I learned a lot from my folks growing up, but when I went to college, money was tight. I couldn’t afford to take a lady out, so I learned how to ask them to come over for dinner and cook for them. After I wined and dined them, they were already in my house, and many of them stayed overnight with me and stayed for breakfast!”

She started helping me prepare the vegetables to roast, commenting, “So, you were motivated by sex to learn to Cook?” I waxed philosophically, “Partly, but it was also important to cook for myself, because I couldn’t afford to eat out.” Barb commented, “And now that you can afford to eat out, you cook for yourself because you enjoy it?” I said, Mostly, although I was eating out of one of my favorite delicatessens, when we first crossed paths.” She said, “You make it sound as though it was romantic, but…I assure you…it was not!” I said, “Do you think that is working out for you better than you anticipated?” She smiled, and said, “The dream has just started to sort of make sense to me, after all that had happed to me…” A single tear slid down her cheek, but I could tell, she was making the very best of her new situation. She commented, “That Baggett smells amazing! It is almost done.” I said, “I agree, why don’t you check it?” While she took out the bread pan with oven gloves and set it on a trivet to cool. I warmly said, “You can put the vegies in to roast, while I gently sauté the Alaska Sablefish.” She asked me, “Do you like your vegies ‘al dente’?” I said, “Yes.” And she said, “So do I.”

The vegies came out as the Alaska Sablefish was ready to eat. Barb cut into the fresh sourdough Baggett and served both of us. I asked her if she would like a glass of wine, but her comprehensive answer surprised me. She asked me, “Do you ever entertain at the Bar anymore, Jim?” I was a little somber and said, “Not much after my wife died.” She asked, “Would you mind if we went up for an after-dinner drink later?” As we ate, I said, “I think I would like that, Barbara.”

Light banter made up the rest of our dining experience. After we cleaned up, stored leftovers, and washed the dishes and pans, we headed upstairs to the bar. She sat on the bar stool opposite of the center tangent curve and asked curiously, “This is a uniquely designed bar, Jim. Where did you get it?” I said, “I designed it, and built it. The top is Rosewood sliced planks, in matched pairs, mounted on ¾ inch thick plywood. The outside, where the barstools are, is cut into concentric tangent curves to allow more space and to allow for more face time for the folks on the barstools. There is a soft padded 2-inch strip of Naugahyde on a built-up backing. The tangent curves culminate into one large tangent curve behind the bar, so that the person serving can be closer and more intimate with those on the barstools in front. The bar top sits astride 5 37inch tall redwood 4 X 4s, 3 of which have cuts in the back to handle two panels that are angled at 160 degrees, when looking from the vertical. Looking at the two panels horizontally, each has a large tear drop of 1/8 inch thick birch plywood. Inside the tear drop is 1 ½ wide tan oak paneling up and down vertically. 2 other redwood 4 X 4s are situated at the tangent points of the back large curve in the bar top. They each hold small panels of Tan Oak paneling glued together on top of 1/8 inch birch plywood, the two side panels also match up the inside 4 X 4’s at ends of the two large tear drop front panels. There are no brass foot rails on the bar, but each bar stool has its own built in foot rail. The inside of the bar is filled with shelves of different sizes.” Barbara commented, “Thanks to that very detailed explanation, I have a genuine appreciation both of your design and craftsmanship abilities, er, uh…can you fix me a drink?” I said, “What would you like? She countered, “What do you have?” I answered, “I have all of the basics. Plus, I can probably make your favorite cocktail…or a reasonable facsimile.”

Barbera asked me, “Do you have Famous Grouse?” I said, “Ah, the well-regarded upland game bird is made from the overages of Highland Park 12 and Macallan 12 in equal measure. I have both, although unopened, I would be happy to make you a Famous Grouse. How would you like it served?” She smiled at me and, soothed, “In a tumbler with just one ice cube, please. I have never had it made for me before, Jim. Most bars used to carry Famous Grouse.” I said, “Oh, they still do. We used to do a lot of entertaining, but when she died…I guess I sort of lost interest.” She said, “Do you still have friends?” I wondered, “I have quite a few, actually, although most are still part of my yacht club. I see them down there, where we can support our club. It doesn’t make much sense to invite a few over here, when, the ones that I didn’t invite, will wonder why I didn’t ask them. It just doesn’t pencil out.” I poured myself two fingers of Clase Azul reposado tequila in a tumbler, came out from the Bar and sat on the bar stool on the opposite side of the middle tangent curve. Not so close, that it was uncomfortable to keep turning your head to make eye contact, but still close enough to be intimate and face to face.

Barbara asked me, “What is that you are drinking, Jim?” I said, “It is a tequila so smooth, it is like an angle peeing on your tongue!” Barbara laughed, “I have never heard that expression before.” I confessed, that I stole it from an old friend of mine, who passed away a few years ago. She commented, “You look young, Jim, like mid-40s…how did your wife die, if you don’t mind me asking?” I thought to myself that it wouldn’t hurt to tell her, so I did…just the Clif Notes: “I got the call. She had fallen down somehow on the front patio. She had a concussion when someone saw her down. By the time she was at the hospital, it took a while to diagnose internal hemorrhaging of the brain. She was gone that night. Now I only remember all of the love that we had for each other and what a beautiful person that she was.” Barbara laid her hand on mine and said, “I am sorry for your loss, Jim.” I soothed, “We have both had loss, Barbara, but I have been more fortunate than most. You not only lost your husband, your source of income, but because of the gambling debt, you lost it all. I hope that you can get your confidence back to help you get back on your feet again.” She gave me a demure look…then asked me, “Would fix me just a little more Famous Grouse, Jim?”

I said, “Sure, how many fingers do you want in your glass?” She indicated one and ½. That is what I poured for her. She said unapologetically, “I was so very fortunate to…have met you Jim at this pivotal time in my life. I never dreamed that I could live and work in a house like this, in a small pretty city just like this one.” I said, “I couldn’t agree more, Barbera, it happened at the right time for both of us. I think that we both needed each other…for different reasons.” I sipped my tequila, while she took a pull on the famous grouse, that I had mixed for her. Her casual clothes fit her well, giving her natural curves a nice refuge, but not entirely...I noticed. I have always appreciated a curvy woman. She had apparently noticed that I was admiring her form and it obviously pleased her; she demurred and softly ran her hand along the tangent curves of the bar saying, “I like a man who knows all about curves, Jim.” I agreed, “Oh, I love everything about curves, Barb!” We batted playful little witticisms back and forth until we finished our drinks and agreed to retire for the night. Barbara Logan carefully made her way downstairs on her way to the only bedroom-bathroom on the first floor. I walked down the hall to my master-bedroom suite, did my nightly mouth cleansing routine, took off all my clothes…then I just laid there naked in the open sheets, my mind too active yet to go to sleep.