Author: Wade Mondegam, Copyright © 1997 Master Wade.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached. The author may be contacted through mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

16 S. Main Street was a three-story brick building which had been built in 1906 by the board of directors of Haden County National Bank. The building had served as the bank's offices until its failure in late August of 1929. A local businessman purchased the property as an investment when it was auctioned, but it was used only for miscellaneous storage for the next twenty years.

The new owner of the property was a young lumberman named Theodore Decatur Weddle. Weddle, known by others as T.D., or more affectionately, "Grease", spent those twenty years parlaying the small inheritance his father had left him into a lumber company which concentrated in the manufacture of hardwood flooring.

By the time Grease Weddle moved his corporate offices into the Haden Bank building in 1949 few people could remember the source of his unusual nickname. Those who did remember could still picture the struggling young lumberman in his overalls, almost always covered with grease from working with the heavy equipment used in his business.

By 1949, however, overalls and mechanical repairs were only a memory to Grease Weddle. His lumber company now employed over two hundred people, and Weddle flooring was transported all over the eastern seaboard by Weddle trucks.

Over the next forty years, Grease expanded his business interests, and his family, until he became Haden County's largest landholder and the patriarch of a family composed of eleven sons and two daughters. By 1989 the Weddle business interests included three funeral homes, a cement plant, a string of convenience stores, apartment buildings, and a controlling interest in a large furniture manufacturing company in a nearby city. All but two of the Weddle sons and one of the daughters were involved in the various businesses owned by the family.

Eighty years old in 1989, Grease was still a daily participant in the management of his enterprise, and it would have been no surprise to any locals who might have been watching to have seen the black Lincoln that Grease still drove pull up in front of the Haden Bank building on this September morning.

"You're on the sidewalk again," his eldest son, Myron, said, as Grease turned off the engine.

"I poured the damn sidewalk, didn't I?", he replied, opening the door and fighting his way out of the car.

Myron shook his head. Every morning he tried to get his father to let him drive, and every morning he was rebuffed, just as he had been when he had suggested that it would be quite easy to hire a driver for him.

"What the hell do I need a damn driver for? I was drivin semi's with ten tons of logs behind 'em when you were still suckin your thumb," had been the comment. That was nearly five years ago, and Myron had finally given up and, instead, had made it his practice to try to ride with the old man wherever he went. Just in case.

Four of the Weddle brothers were waiting for them in Grease's first floor office. These six men made up the board of directors of the closely held corporation that was Weddle Enterprises, Inc. In 1983 Grease had made equal gifts of stock in the corporation to all the children, instantly making them all millionaires.

Paul, who was in charge of the funeral homes, stood at the window, watching the traffic along the quiet street. He had always wanted to be an artist, but had felt bound to the family business. He often wished that he had been courageous enough to follow his own course in life, but at 53 it was far too late for that now.

Richard, seated along one side of the huge table that filled the center of the room, was two years younger than Paul. He was quite happy with his role in the company which was that of overseeing the management of the apartments. With some minor exceptions everything was handled by people in his employ. His greatest aggravation was these morning meetings that they all had to attend at Grease's insistence, but it was a small price to pay, especially in light of the gift of stock.

On the other side of the table across from Richard, Jimmy Weddle was reading the morning paper. As far as anyone could tell, Jimmy loved the cement plant and his role in it. He wasn't the brightest of the Weddle brothers, but he was, perhaps, the most content. At 48 years of age, Jimmy had the money to buy most anything he wanted. What was there to be unhappy about?

The last of the five brothers on the board was Sal, a sandy- haired young man of twenty-nine years. He was the convenience store division head and was about to lose nearly half of his stock in a nasty divorce settlement. He was anything but happy, but his lack of happiness had little to do with his job.

"Alright, let's hear it," Grease said gruffly, as he took his seat at the head of the table. One by one the men gave their reports. It bored them all to tears. At a monthly meeting, or even a weekly meeting, there might have been something to say. But even in the most dynamic businesses the day to day minutae was seldom exciting. The upside was that the meetings were usually brief. This morning, however, there was an additional bit of business that had to be attended to.

"Jake wants to sell his shares," Myron said, referring to the 45 year old brother who had never been involved in the family business. Jake had always been something of a loner, perhaps taking after his mother to a greater degree than any of the other sons. After twenty years in the Marine's Jake had moved back to Haden County and had begun raising horses on a large tract of land he purchased from the corporation.

"Why the hell does he want to do that?", Grease asked, obviously hearing this bit of news for the first time.

"He says he has some things he wants to do and he needs the cash," Myron answered.

"He wants to sell all 100,000 shares?", asked Richard.

"That's what he says. I told him I was sure we'd be happy to buy a portion of them, but that it was a bit much to ask us to take the whole lot," Myron explained, tamping his pipe. "He said he could sell them outside the family if it would be a problem."

"The hell he can," Grease said. "We don't need a bunch of outsiders owning stock in Weddle. It's bad enough that we can't keep Sally from walking off with 50,000 shares," he said, referring to Sal's wife, "we don't want Jake's shares winding up outside the family too."

"Jake needs nearly two million dollars in cash?", Paul asked, increduously. "That's enough to buy every damn horse in the state! What the fuck is he up to?"

"He wouldn't say what he wanted the money for," Myron said, "but he said he had a buyer for all of the shares if we didn't want them."

"If the six of us bought him out together," Sal said, doing some quick figuring, "that would be over 300,000 a piece. I sure as hell don't have that kind of money, not without selling some of my own shares, and that wouldn't make much sense."

"He's crazy for wanting to sell in the first place," Myron said. "We had our best year ever last year. He can't get a better return anywhere else, and he sure as shit can't get it by putting it all in horseflesh. I told him all that, but he just smiled at me. You know how he is."

"Who is this buyer he's talking about?", Paul asked.

"I don't know for sure, but unless it's someone from out of town it would have to be Jingo. Don't you think?"

"Shit, I bet it is Jingo or Paulie, one of the two," Grease cursed. "Hell, I'll buy him out before I'll let them get in. Fuckin bastards."

Jingo and Paulie were the Miller brother's, the second largest landholders in Haden county. The Weddle's and the Miller's bumped up against each other every where they turned, and had for the last forty years. There was no love lost between the two families.

"Well, it doesn't really make much difference who it is," Myron said. "Either we buy him out or someone else will. And since we don't want anyone outside the family having his shares...well, we've got to figure something out."

Eventually an agreement was reached, with Grease agreeing to buy half the shares, and four of the brothers agreeing to buy the remainder. No one was particularly happy about the arrangement, especially Grease, who felt betrayed by his son's desire to sell his stock. The meeting broke up, and Myron called Jake to give him the news.

"The old man is pissed, but he's taking half. Sal is out and the rest of us are taking equal lots for the rest," Myron said.

"Thanks, Myron. Can you call and get the funds transfered? I'll stick the certificates in the mail," Jake replied.

"Yeah, that's no problem. The biggest problem is Grease. You may want to stop by here and talk to him."

"I will, but I think I'll let him chew on it a bit first. How's he doing these days anyway?" Grease wasn't in the best of health, in spite of his actions to the contrary.

"Doctor Willis says he's pushing it, but can't do any more with him than we can. As long as he takes his medicine he seems to feel pretty good. I figure he'll kill himself driving before his heart goes."

"Well, listen, Myron, thank the boys for me. I'll be talking to you."

Jake hung up the phone and smiled. He'd never have sold his shares to Jingo and Paulie, even if they had wanted to buy them, but no one needed to know he hadn't offered them to anyone. And he didn't really have to have the whole two million in cash, but he was glad it was working out that way. What he most wanted was to disassociate himself from the family business as totally as possible and to be free to live his life out of the shadow of the Weddle Corporation. Now he'd have that chance.

Jake was doing very well in the horse business, much better than his brothers realized. He had learned a lot about horses while stationed in Austria, and upon his release from the service he had carefully selected the animals that made up his herd. The money from the sale of stock in Weddle would provide him with the funds he needed to buy one more good stallion and to build the home he'd looked forward to for years. The rest would take care of itself.

Only three years after selling his stock, Jake Weddle had become the fourth wealthiest Haden county resident, behind the Miller brothers and his own father. Horses from his ranch were showing up regularly on tracks around the country, and his reputation as a breeder was secure.

The farm had been turned into a showplace. There were over two hundred acres of rolling pasture land, all of it fenced and carefully maintained. Stables unmatched by anything found in Kentucky or Tennessee were carefully and spotlessly maintained. A staff of over one hundred employees carried out their duties with pride and skill, many of them living in homes which Jake had allowed them to build along the west side of his property.

Jake's own home was the most imposing building in all of Haden county. Even though he had never married, Jake had always been fascinated by the old plantation homes of the south, and owning something similar had been a life-long dream. Weddle Manor, as he called his new dwelling, was everything he had dreamed of. After studying many of the surviving plantation homes of Virginia and South Carolina, Jake had brought in a world famous architect who had combined many of the features of these homes, adding modern conveniences and features in ways that made them almost un- noticable.

The manor had cost nearly a million dollars to construct, and was the talk of the county for many months. It was unthinkable to most Haden county residents that a single man with no family would build himself a home with twelve bedrooms. While the other Weddle family members lived in homes which were far above average, not even Grease himself owned a palace such as this, and if anyone had ever needed twelve bedrooms, it had been Grease and his wife with all their children. It was the worst kind of financial irresponsibility, and the only friends that it made Jake were those people who profited somehow from its construction.

None of this mattered to Jake. He was quite happy living in his own little world, and had no interest at all in being a part of the social life of the surrounding area. The truth was that he was isolated enough that the jealous gossip of others seldom reached him, and that he would have shrugged it off as meaningless even if it had.

Having secured himself financially, and having seen to the building of his dream home, what remained now for Jake was to add the ammenities that would make life truly pleasurable for him. Chief among these was the satisfaction of another life-long dream, the filling of his home with beautiful women.

Continued in MRWADE.191....