Longwood
It had been another busy day at Dale's DX, I often referred to the day's activities as the same only different, a different day, basically the same activities. Longwood is a town of 205 located on a main state highway, for all intents and purposes this place should have succumbed to the draw of bigger stores to take away my business, but it still made enough to keep the wolves at bay, pay my employees a decent wage and stick some in the bank for a rainy day. I had a loyal clientele of local folks and an endless flow of hunters and fishermen.
Prior to owning Dale's I had worked with my dad for over fifteen years selling medical equipment, a rather lucrative field then, when he died I thought I would be a shoe-in to take over his position representing a half dozen or more companies. In their collective infinite wisdom, I wasn't old enough at 34 to know what I was doing in spite of the fact that it had been me who'd done the lion's share of the selling over the past seven or eight years.
In the end it was as my father had stated many times, just follow the money, there were behind closed doors deals which I could have spent a load of money contesting. With my mother already gone and no siblings I decided, screw them and the ship the sailed in on. I sold everything there was to sell including my parents place, my place and the building my dad had built to operate out of over thirty years prior.
I didn't drive away with a small mint but I didn't drive away poor either. With the office building and my parents place being in prime real estate areas of the city they brought top dollar, mine sold for market value. I kept the few pieces of old furniture I wanted, the three-generation old china that had been passed down to my mother from her mother, I auctioned the rest including their two year old Caddy. Considering I could buy a 7x12 tandem axle enclosed trailer for just over double what renting one would have cost I chose to buy the trailer, I could always sell it afterward, with it and my pickup loaded I hit the road.
Seven hours later I pulled onto the old logging road that led to our hunting cabin just west of High Ridge, a town of about eighteen hundred. It was late afternoon when I arrived affording me enough daylight to unpack the essentials, get the pilots lit on the range, water heater and furnace, turn on the water and unhook the trailer. I checked the LP tank and decided I'd call to have it filled the next day, it was showing thirty percent but I didn't want to forget and run out of fuel. It was late fall which meant the days were pleasant but the nights were chilly.
I didn't have room to store everything at the cabin, there were no rental facilities in High Ridge so I headed south to the county seat of Lake Junction to find a rental storage place, Lake Junction was home to the county courthouse, Sherriff's Department, and a regional hospital. Driving the forty three miles to Lake Junction I had to pass through a little burg named Longwood, the sign on the edge of town stated the population was 205, it was basically older homes, a few newer ones, a tavern and not much else.
I'd driven through the town for years when we'd go hunting and up until nine years ago there was a DX gas station/grocery outlet in the middle of town, the blue and white sign still hanging out front was an original porcelain. When the owner died no one wanted to buy the business, it had set empty since his demise. His kids owned it but they lived six states away and had never set foot in Longwood again after they left high school and moved on. I stopped at the Log Cabin Diner in Longwood for lunch on my way home, an older waitress recognized me and sat down, within our conversation I asked about the old station. She gave me the low down on how the kids owned and wanted nothing to do with it but couldn't seem to get it sold. Her impression was that it was overpriced.
Over the next two weeks I was able to ascertain a phone number for the oldest sibling, a hot shot lawyer down south, he didn't want to come north so I told him I'd drive south. A day and a half later I sat in his office drinking coffee and chatting, when I brought up selling the place he threw out a ridiculous number. I laughed at him.
"You don't want to sell it do you? That property is nowhere near what you're asking."
He glared at me, "Nobody has the money to buy that dump anyway, so who gives a shit. I'll keep writing it off every year as a loss."
I leaned forward, "How much would you sell it for if you could get cash? No muss, no fuss, no inspections, nothing but a title search and a check once the search clears."
I guess he thought I was blowing smoke up his ass because he laughed in my face, "I suppose you're going to try and tell me you have that kind of money."
I stood and contemplated telling him to piss off but instead bent over his desk and gave him a number I had in mind. He sat back, blinked a few times, stuttered, mumbled to himself and stood sticking out his hand.
"You got a deal mister, I want half down today and the remainder after the title search and legal paperwork is completed."
Now I was pissed, "Fuck you, ten percent down which is a normal for earnest money, the balance when the rest is completed. Take it or leave it, I'm going home tomorrow morning."
I was just about to close the door when he yelled, "Wait, come back, get your checkbook out, ten percent, I'll get the paperwork started tomorrow."
Everything else was completed via electronic signatures from that point forward, three weeks later I sat in the title office and completed the deal, a week later I had the deed in hand. The place at one time had been a gas station, small grocery, small auto repair shop and in the fifties a Dodge Dealership. At the time the old guy died the only part open was the very front of the store, no one had been in the back of the facility in ages. Upon closing I was given a ring of over a dozen keys, the title company didn't know what they were for, but they went with the sale, I damn near tossed them but thought better of it.
I was walking though the place figuring out what was trash and what was salvageable when I encountered a heavy metal door with the biggest padlock I'd ever seen. Going to the truck for the ring of keys I was trying key after key with no luck until the second to last one. The lock clunked open and I walked into a museum of Americana, there were gas pumps from the 50's and 60's, an old Dodge pickup, what looked to be a model T on blocks hiding in a dark back corner, a dozen or more globes for the top of older gas pumps and then in a small room off the back the most exciting find.
Two visible glass pumps in good condition, one with a Texaco top and one with a Phillips 66 top, next to those was model 38-A vintage gas pump with a Sinclair globe. There were old rims, old wide whitewall tires on shelves that were mostly dry rotted, shelves of old parts and a vintage Brunswick brass cash register. I was so excited I was ready to wet my pants, I estimated the value of what I could see on the surface was worth as much as I'd paid for the place. If his smart ass kids had done a little homework and not thought their old man was nutty as a fruit cake they'd have realized it was a gold mine.
I made the decision then and there that I was going to re-open the place, I would start small and build it up. The first wave of realism hit me three days later, an early snowfall of just over five inches. I made the executive decision to schedule a plow be mounted to my F-250 as soon as possible, six days later I drove off the lot thinking to myself, "let it snow", at least now I had a means to move it.
I spent the first six weeks going through and cataloging everything, deciding what I wanted to hold onto and what would go on auction. I found an antique car parts store on the web that was willing to buy the original Dodge parts, most still in their boxes, they in turn bought the rims, one of the 1950's gas pumps and two of the globes. People in town had originally thought I was nuts for buying what they called *that dump* until word got out what had been locked in that back area for decades.
The day of the onsite auction there were over three hundred registered bidders, by days end after paying the auction houses commission I still cleared more than I'd paid for the property. Shortly after I'd discovered my gold mine the hot shot lawyer suddenly wanted more money saying I cheated him, I hired a lawyer equally as notable as he was and it all went away within a week. Slimy prick, he'd had years to come look at the place and chose not to, in his eyes his old man was a fool to live in that hick town, the very town the lawyer had been born in.
With December approaching most of the construction crews and trades people in the area were due to be laid off until spring. I took advantage of that and hired who I needed to completely gut, rewire, re-plumb, and remodel the front portion of the store. In the process I had a small apartment built behind the office, big enough for a bed, a walk-in shower, a small kitchenette and an area to sit and relax. I could stop sleeping at the cabin and spend my days at the store once it re-opened.
The old guy had upgraded to fiberglass tanks two years before he died so I didn't need to replace those, I had newer digital model gas pumps installed and put a canopy over them. With an entirely new interior and the latest in technology concerning the pumps I opened the fifteenth of March selling gas and some groceries, bread, milk, feminine products, cereal, chips, mostly convenience items. I was awaiting a license to sell cold beer and was told I should have it by May.
The common pattern of thought through the years since the old guy had died is that with Lake Junction thirty some miles away and High Ridge just under twenty the other direction no one would want to stop in Longwood. They were wrong, between the locals, the logging trucks needing diesel and the myriad of hunters I had no trouble keeping the doors open. I was opening at six and closing at nine, I was doing it all myself, by the sixth week I could see I was going to need help in order to keep up with everything, I posted a part time help wanted sign on the door and left it at that. A lady who'd filled up several times and had bought milk a few times, (she would also flirt with me each time she came in), asked if I was still hiring after paying for her fuel, I nodded yes.
"My name is Iris, I worked here before Horacio died, everybody knew him as Harry, anyway, I worked for him for five years. I'm only 52 and have a lot of spunk left in me but I'm tired of traveling to Lake Junction for work. Think you might be interested?"
She wasn't hard to look at by any stretch, her face looked middle aged but it was still fashionably made up with enough to highlight and not look gawdy, I figured her to be five foot six or seven and probably one hundred and forty pounds, a narrow waist along with that gentle slope to her hips which accompanies being a mommy. I thought her ass was cute and looked firm in her casual jeans, her chest was average, maybe a B or C to match the rest of her body. Yes, I could work with that every day.
I jumped on her offer like a chicken on a June bug, "When can you start Iris?"
She smiled and winked, "I'll be here at six tomorrow to help open."
