The Bridge -- Chapter Eight -- Peace and Jimmy
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work is copy written by the author.
This work is a slow burn, but will, at times, contain instances of pregnancy, motherhood, interracial sex, lesbianism, romance and affection, and a considerable amount of intrigue. There are also threats of violence and a fair amount of heroism and family love and fun.
Given the contents of this chapter, it's in the Lesbian Sex category, but has spent time in the Interracial Love category (where it potentially could have gone) and will probably move around as it progresses. Which it will do if enough people like it. There is interracial love and loving lesbian sex in this chapter, and it helps move the story along. In time, there will be many orgasms. But first, you've got to meet the players.
Peace and Jimmy
The first few weeks of January were chilly, averaging in the thirties and forties. By the time Valentine's Day approached, the temps were mostly in the fifties and doing nothing but getting warmer. So, the architect and builder agreed it was time to dig and pour the foundation for Bertha's house in the first week of March and to get construction started. The contractor thought he could have the project done well before Thanksgiving, with a target date sometime around Halloween. We were all thrilled. So, we held our own personal groundbreaking ceremony. Holly and Bertha and I all got hard hats, as did the kids. Each of the kids' hats had their name on them and mine said, "The Boss." Holly's said, "Mrs. Boss," and Bertha's said, "Homeowner." We each took our shovels out, and Lizzie showed up to take pictures and videos of our little ceremony.
January and February were also fraught with board meetings at Bridge House. The major topic was the building of the women's health center and the first of many fund raisers. It was to be held in the very large common room at Bridge House and attended by beneficiary families who had children born at Bridge, as well as other wealthy charitable types and, of course, Bridge House girls past and present. It was my gig to organize, but, of course, Holly did all the heavy lifting.
The affair, on March Second, was catered and there was a small three-piece band. Everyone mixed well and all my Bridge girls were there to pound the flesh and beg for money. We had set a goal of a million dollars but wound up with two point five. A rousing success. Holly and one of the board members, the owner of a local golf course, were already setting up the next fund raiser which would be a golf outing at his club. The First Annual Jane Amherst Golf Invitational would be held in May of this year before it got too ungodly hot.
Attendees of our first fundraiser were already signing up. Jane's sister attended the event and cried through the whole thing. She touched a lot of hearts. I cannot begin to tell you how many times she came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me for what I was doing. I let her know it was all us girls who were doing it.
We broke ground on March 11th, and I showed up with my "The Boss" hard hat. Everyone got a kick out of that. Board members showed up with their shovels and hard hats as well as local politicians and celebrities. We were well covered by the news media, and Lizzie was there to get both photos and video of the event. And contributions started flowing in. By the time we poured the foundation in April, we had collected eleven million in contributions, including my five. More than enough for the cost of construction and to keep the lights on and salaries paid for two years. We were hoping the money we collected for the golf event would see us through an additional year, or at least until the next few charitable events. If not, I always have a few bucks in the bank to help out during the slack times.
March and April brought Holly and me two goals; to get The First Annual Jane Amherst Golf Invitational scheduled, sponsored and advertised for the end of May, and to learn to play golf so we could attend and not look like a couple of smacked asses. Perry James, a Bridge House board member, was also majority owner and board chairman at a golf club outside of Honeybrook. He donated the use of the course and took care of logistics for the tournament. He told us it was the quickest he had ever set up a tournament.
Holly and I worked the phones and all our contacts and managed to find six sponsors and many attendees. One of the small local TV stations even agreed to televise us. It was a Pro-Am tournament and Perry brought in most of the talent. As the mother of George Barry, Jr. I worked George, Senior's Rolodex, and got some of his old cronies on board and they brought some local retired and active sports figures from baseball, football, basketball and hockey as well.
Throughout March and April and into May, Holly and I took lessons and played as much golf as we could. We even did a foursome with our mothers, who were avid golfers, and took tips and went to the driving range with our dads. Holly really took to the game and even got to like it. And she did pretty well. I was terrible, and I hated it. But, in for a penny, in for a pound. For me, it was strictly a means to an end, and that was to make as much money for the Center as possible. But one thing I can tell you. Even a non-golfer like me can appreciate the magnificence of a golf course. Especially one as beautiful as this one.
So, on Sunday, May 24th, 2054, The First Annual Jane Amherst Golf Invitational took place. Counting both the men and women who played, there were a grand total of eighty-eight players for our first year. Perry said that was great and that next year we might even double that. There were only twenty women who attended as players, and we all teed off at the back end of the lineup. Holly and I were in a foursome with our mothers, who were far superior golfers. But we learned a thing or two. Mostly, I learned that next year Holly should get herself a more athletic partner and I should run things from the Club House.
The tournament was a success, but I would not call it a rousing success. We pulled in, after paying out winnings and expenses, just north of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. After all our hard work, we hoped for more, but we did well enough that we would start earlier this time to plan a second annual event. Perry promised us the golf course again for next May.
As spring was overcome by the heat of summer, the kids enjoyed day camp, swam in our pool, and watched as Bertha's house was being built. The workers would show up around seven in the morning and be gone by five. George especially enjoyed watching the crew and would come outside with his little hard hat and wave at the men and women. They called him "Little Boss." He just loved that, and we took his name off the hat and put on "Little Boss."
Holly and I continued our online courses at WCU and were making slow progress. I had six years to complete my MSN but was rethinking my strategy and considered dumping the program for some Bachelor's level psychology courses that might be more in line with my role at Bridge House and the Women's Health Center. I also continued to do fill in work at Chester County Hospital and Paoli Hospital in various departments just to keep my skills fresh and my certifications up to date. Usually no more than twenty hours a week. And believe me, it was not for the money.
One of our bodyguards, Herman Krass, was a retired Navy SEAL, and he took the kids in hand, teaching them everything possible about swimming. At four, little George was as strong a swimmer as any eight-year-old. Except Celeste, of course. He even gave his older sister a run for her money when they swam competitive laps. Herman, under his tutelage, had them doing it most days in the summer. And when our kids swam competitively against their peers, there was never any contest, something Herman took great pride in and he called them his little PUPS, the name of a baby seal. Celeste had caught his attention with her love of the pool. And his paternal love affair with her began.
My hard hat got a real workout between inspections of Bertha's house and the Wellness Center. A week didn't go by when I wasn't walking through one half-built building or another. And I don't think one day went by when Bertha didn't bring lunches, or snacks, or water to the crew building her house; always with her signature hard hat on. The construction manager said there was never a site they'd been on where they enjoyed working more, even through the sweltering summer. And their efforts and the quality of their work showed it. And when Bertha brought out beers for the crew at the end of one particularly hot Friday in June, she totally won their hearts. They all vowed that before it got cold, she'd be living in that house.
Camp for the kids ended the third week of August and there were two weeks until school started for my two in West Chester and Celeste in Unionville. Holly gave Celeste the choice between staying in the school she was in and going to the school where her brother and sister went. She wanted to finish out elementary school where she had made friends and then her brother and sister would join her in the school district when they were done at WCFS. We were just happy summer was coming to an end and that the temps would go down. It had been another painfully hot summer. Plenty of days over one hundred degrees.
The same outfit that takes care of maintaining our solar collection system and water well collection system put a bid in for the contract for installation on Bertha's house and I told the General Contractor on the job that if their bid was fair that they should get the contract to install and maintain Bertha's solar and water setups. It would behoove them to have two similar customers so close together. And as they were inspecting and tightening up and adjusting all aspects including batteries and distribution of energy at our place, the electrician working for the guys installing the solar at Bertha's will be able to work with the electrician wiring the house.
They'd be a hundred feet away from each other if they ever needed to consult. And it was my job to make certain everything coalesced. And when these guys shook hands, the job was pretty much done. They shook hands mid-August, planning for a Labor Day finish. Bertha's housewarming party. She was counting the minutes.
