"Helping Out" (closed)

[Alice2015]

(Part 2)

Viola turned to the purse that was itself sitting in her chair and withdrew several #10 sized business envelopes; each was filled with bank-strapped bundled of hundred-dollar bills, with each envelope containing a different amount of money and a handwritten note on the face, identifying its content's purpose.

She plopped the first envelope down on the table. On it were the words Renovation -- $50,000. Viola explained, "I'd like all four suites combined into one penthouse. This money should easily cover the work, I think."

Viola dropped another envelope in front of Mark; on it was Reno labor -- $10,000. She told The Modern's handyman, "If Maxine could spare you for a few hours a day, I'd like you to supervise the work." She dropped yet another envelope that had the same writing and figure on it, saying, "This is for additional craftsmen and whoever you need to help you get the job done. What you don't spend on additional labor you can put in your own pocket. My only requirement is that this get done within 30 days."

Another envelope hit the table, labeled Elevator -- $20,000, "I called a guy in Magnus who said this should cover it, but if it doesn't, you only have to ask for more, Maxine."

By now, the old lady had struggled up to her feet and was staring at Viola with a combination of confusion and disbelief. "First ... where does all this money come from?"

"It's mine," Viola told her firmly. "You have nothing to worry about, Maxine. There's nothing illegal happening here."

That was true and false at the same time, of course. Yes, Viola had stolen the money; that was the illegal part. But giving it to these folk for legitimate work was not in and of itself illegal. Viola picked through the remaining envelopes, figuring it was time to get to the one of which Maxine had to be thinking the hardest. She dropped it down -- it said Monthly Lease -- $50,000.

"Do you think that this amount would be fair, Maxine," Viola asked. The old woman stared at the envelope a moment, then gestured Claudia to hand it up to her. She held it in one hand, not needing to open the envelope as the thickness of it prevented the flap from closing at all. When Maxine looked up at her, Viola said, "I would sign a 5-year lease ... pay you all of it up front if you have any concerns about putting in the work to create one suite out of--"

"You're serious, aren't you, Viola?" Maxine cut in.

Viola responded with a serious tone, "Absolutely. This isn't some sort of joke, Maxine. I'm not conning you. The money is real, as the bank will tell you when you take it in for deposit. It's not drug money, sex trafficking money, gun running money. It's mine. It's mine to spend ... the way I want to spend it ... and I want to spend it to help you--"

She looked between them, then toward The Modern's front entrance as she clarified, "Help each one of you ... help Vance ... and Marjorie ... the Sunrise and Roxanne's and ... and anyone else I can help."

"Why?" Maxine asked bluntly. She might have been an old woman, but she was still sharp as a tack, and people didn't do things like this without a reason. "Why us? Why here? Why Toland?"

Viola considered whether or not to tell the trio the truth for a moment but then went with the cover story that she and her hacker partner, Edward Winger, and she had concocted and even created background support of. "I won the lottery a while back." She held a hand up in a stop gesture, saying quickly, "First, don't ask me which one or how much, please."

When she thought she'd managed that, Viola continued, "I won more than I'll ever need, and I decided to help someone who needed help ... and I found Toland." With a more desperate tone, Viola almost begged, "Please ... let me help you ... let me help Toland ... with no questions asked about me or the money or where specifically it came from. Just ... let me do this."

Viola and Maxine studied each other a long moment before the latter -- looking at the money in her hand -- said, "Fifty grand is too much ... but ... I'll take it."

The old lady looked between Mark and Claudia, then asked, "Can we do this...? Keep this secret to ourselves?"

Just in case the youngest of the three women needed encouragement, Viola dropped yet another envelope on the table, with the words on it reading, Claudia -- College -- $30,000. Viola said, "I checked with the Carlson Creek Annex of TCCC. Marjorie Keen, she went there and said it's a good school. This will get you through an Associates of Arts degree ... and if you complete that, I'll give you another thirty to finish your bachelor's. All I ask of you is that you continue to take care of this incredible woman--"

Viola was talking about Maxine, of course. She continued, "--and take care of yourself." She fished into her purse and tossed the girl a pair of keys. "Oh, and I found a little car for sale around the corner in front of The Pastry Pot. It's got over a hundred thousand miles on it, but the guy says it runs like a top."

When Claudia looked at the key fob, she would likely notice the Mercedes logo on it. It's sitting outside, if you want to take a look. It's a convertible, and it might rain, so I'd go out and put the top up. But first ... I'd go find that new boyfriend of yours and take him for a drive through the country. Tank's full."

 

[TiredFingers]

Monday evening, after dinner
The Modern Hotel

Mark saw the bottle of Dom and smiled. He'd had a taste of it once back when he'd been boxing and had enjoyed his one and only big dollar boxing match. He was no connoisseur of fine alcohol, but he'd liked it. And he'd known what just the name of it meant: celebration.

When Viola said she wanted to rent the entire North Wing's third floor, his eyes widened in surprise. What the hell is she going to do with 8 bedrooms? Who is this girl? Viola cut in, smiling and downing the rest of her Champagne. She added, "The whole thing ... all four suites."

Then, she started dropping envelopes of cash on the table. Lots of cash. Mark saw the handwritten amounts on them, but even if he hadn't he would have known they contained tens of thousands of dollars. Where the hell? Who ... is ... this ... girl.

Maxine talked about the actual rent value of what Viola intended to become her own personal penthouse, mentioning the Robert Richardson Fund pukes who'd dropped so much money here. But their money was nothing compared to what Viola was laying out.

She dropped one with Mark's name on it and the quantity amount of $10,000 written on it. He reached out slowly to pick it up as Viola explained that it was his pay for helping her renovated the 3rd. She dropped another envelope with the same amount, telling him, "What you don't spend on additional labor you can put in your own pocket. My only requirement is that this get done within 30 days."

"Tell me what it is that you want, specifically," Mark instructed. Viola laid out some ideas about walls she wanted removed, features and furnishings she wanted put in, and more. As she talked, he ran a thumb along one corner of the brand new, still-strapped hundreds, marveling at how neat the sounded slapping against one another. He looked to a picked up the other bundle labeled Labor, then told Viola, "This covers the workers easy enough, but I think the reno' cost will be more than you're thinking. But ... yes ... I can get this done in 30 days. I know some guys who are good at what they do and could use the work."

Maxine asked, "First ... where does all this money come from?"

"It's mine," Viola responded. She talked about the lottery and wanting to pay it forward. Mark could see that. He'd seen a lot of stories of what lottery winners did with their millions. Some of them wasted it on houses, cars, vacations and more. Others put it in bad investments and lost it. But everyone once in a while, you saw someone like Viola who put their money to work for their community.

Sure, this wasn't Viola's community. She'd been here less than a week. And yet somehow, she'd been functioning as if she'd lived in Toland for years. How many times had Mark heard her mention a company or person by name who she really shouldn't have known?

When she dropped yet another envelope that said Monthly Lease -- $50,000, Mark's eyes again opened wide She asked, "Do you think that this amount would be fair, Maxine. I would sign a 5-year lease ... pay you all of it up front if you have any concerns about putting in the work to create one suite out of--"

"You're serious, aren't you, Viola?" Maxine cut in.

"God, I hope so," Mark found himself saying before he even realized that he'd thought the words, let alone said them aloud.

Viola swore she was serious. When Maxine asked Why Toland, Mark was again speaking without thinking, "Why not? Why not Toland, Max. Why not us?

They chatted on, with Viola almost begging Maxine to let her do this, adding, "...with no questions asked about me or the money or where specifically it came from. Just ... let me do this."

That should have been a red flag for all of them, particular Mark, who'd had his run-ins with dirty money in the past. His blossoming boxing career had come to a swift and painful end when gamblers cheated him out of a potential career in the sport. Even worse than that, he'd had to flee the East Coast to put distance between him and not just the gamblers but the police, too.

"Fifty grand is too much..." Max said about the rent, "...but ... I'll take it."

"Yes!" Mark hissed softly through his teeth. He looked between the other three, then looked to Maxine and said plainly, "I don't know why you're hesitating on this. She says it's her money, that it's legal and clean. Why the hesitation?"

"Can we do this...?" Viola asked again. Then, she added, "Keep this secret to ourselves?"

Again, Mark's brain should have screamed Red flag! Red flag on the play! But he was absolutely engrossed by the $20,000 he was holding between his two hands.

"I checked with the Carlson Creek Annex of TCCC," Viola said to Claudia as she dropped yet another envelope reading Claudia -- College -- $30,000. She explained what it was for, then tossed the teen a set of keys, telling her about the Mercedes sitting outside. She finished with, Tank's full."

"I could use a new utility truck," Mark said, again without really thinking. The money in his hands was in control. He quickly felt embarrassed and ungrateful and said, "Kidding! My truck will do."

(OOC: I don't think they're done talking, but I'm sure that Claudia has something to say. If they are done, Mark will want to know if he's taking the money with him now or what. Then he will get to work. You can "god mode" him away from the conversation.)

 

[CutiePie1997]

Viola asked, "Can we do this...? Keep this secret to ourselves?"

That's the trick here, isn't it? Claudia thought to herself. There's something wrong with this money.

Claudia had little interest in getting involved in something that was either illegal or unethical. But when an envelope hit the table labeled as intended for her college fund, the teen found her heart thumping with excitement and her brain telling her It's lottery money. She said so. She promised. There's nothing wrong with it.

Then, Viola tossed her a set of keys, telling her about the car out front. Claudia immediately saw the Mercedes logo on the fob. She couldn't help herself and pressed the alarm button, hearing it beep from out beyond the sidewalk. Without hesitation, she leapt up and ran to the hotel's windows. Her eyes grew larger, and she pressed the button again to hear the horn beep and the blinker lights flash, indicating that this was indeed the car Viola was speaking about.

She spun, heading for Viola at breakneck speed, squealing in excitement all the way until she practically collided with her benefactor. As she gave Viola a bear hug, she proclaimed, "Anything you want! You got it! Oh my God! Viola, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She pulled back, looking at the fob, then the others. She could see some lingering doubt between them and said, "Oh come on! We can trust Viola. She's our friend!" She rushed over to Maxine, taking the old woman's hand as she said with hope in her voice, "Imagine, Max. Imagine what you could do with fifty ... thousand ... dollars ... a month!"

She looked around the empty lobby, then rushed away toward the spaces that had once been occupied with the things she was about to speak of. "Remember the bandstand...? I do! I mean, I only saw them play here once before they never came back, but it was wonderful! We could have that back."

Claudia looked toward the handyman, saying, "Mark could build a bandstand again. Simple! And we could find a quartet, one of those jazzy ones, or blues. Maybe a cellist sometimes, playing that broke stuff."

Maxine corrected, "Baroque."

"Whatever! Doesn't matter!" the excited teen went on, already moving to her next topic. "And we could get the little news stand again, and the beauty shop, and the shoeshine. Oh! And remember the little gift shop with those spinning racks filled with post cards from all around the area and the state?"

Claudia started spinning in place as if she herself was one of those card holders until she got dizzy and nearly fell over. Unsteadily, she hurried back toward Maxine, giggling. "It'll be great!"

She hugged the old lady, more gingerly than she had Viola. Then, something came to her, and she turned to look at Viola again. "Wait. Umm." She moved closer to the woman with the potential to change everything for the town and said, "None of this, the news stand, the band, the gift shop. None of it means anything if there's no one here. No one comes to Toland anymore. Hell, most of the people who live in Toland don't come to Toland anymore."

Claudia looked to the others for answers, then asked Viola, "Why would anyone come to Toland. There's nothing here for them to do or see anymore."

 

[TiredFingers]

Mark listened to the crazed teenager as she laid out her view of the Modern's lobby. When she began suggesting even more work for him, Mark said, "Sure, I could rebuild the bandstand. All the lumber and parts are still downstairs. We didn't ditch it. We just disassembled it and stored it.

She went on and on, ending with, "It'll be great!"

Mark looked to Maxine, shrugging, and saying, "She's right, Max. It would be great again."

But then Claudia brought up the lack behind reasons to do all this. "No one comes to Toland anymore. Hell, most of the people who live in Toland don't come to Toland anymore. Why would anyone come to Toland. There's nothing here for them to do or see anymore."

"There's the Winter Festival," Mark reminded them.* "Weekend after this one."

Someone pointed out that the Festival was a shadow of what it had been before The Three Strikes. And there was also the issue of global warming leaving the Winter Festival without the possibility of snow for the first time in more than 25 years, when a freak dry period had left the ground cold but without the expected layer of white.

Suddenly, Mark had the same thought that Viola had had during her first dinner with them the night she arrived in Toland. "What about snow machines?" He lofted one of the envelopes, waggling it at them. "We could rent two or three or even five or six of them, put them on the buildings surround Founders Square, and create a snowstorm of epic proportions. We'll have the only snow for a hundred miles."

They talked about getting more rooms available for guests and maybe talking to the cafes about running longer hours. Mark looked to Viola and asked, "Can we put off your penthouse for two weeks to do all this? It's a lot of work. I mean, I can round up a dozen guys, two if we need them, who'd be tickled fucking pink to have the work preparing."

They talked about other topics, advertising amongst them. Mark said, "This is all for nought if no one knows about it."

One festival wasn't going to make all this new work worthwhile, but Mark also reminded them of 4th of July with its parade and fireworks, the Town of Toland's Birthday in late summer, the Harvest Festival in autumn, and the Christmas Light Parade in December.

"It's sort of a chicken and the egg, I think," he told them. "The people aren't going to spend money here unless they have accommodations and things to do. But preparing those accommodations and things before there are people is kind of a waste of money. I don't know about y'all, but I think we start with the preps, then wait for the people to flock in."

He shrugged.

......................................
​

* The festival was originally posted as taking place March 28th-30th, but Alice said it's okay to make it April 4th-6th.

 

[Alice2015]

Monday evening, after dinner
The Modern Hotel

Viola found Claudia's joy with her tuition money and new used car delightful; Viola herself used to act that way when her father spoiled her with toys. It hadn't occurred to her when she was younger that he paid for all those things by ruining the lives of others, and now that she did, she regretted ever enjoying a single one of them.

When she and Mark discussed the specifics on the penthouse's renovations, he told her, "I know some guys who are good at what they do and could use the work."

"Good," she told him, smiling. Bringing jobs to Toland was one of Viola's primary goals, and this was a very happy start to that. "Hire whomever you need, and if you need more money, you only have to ask."

She chuckled at the handyman's quick declaration that he needed a new utility truck. Even though he say he was just kidding, Viola was already contemplating the best way to get him what he needed. She'd gotten many gifts during her life that had been nice but not quite what she would have bought for herself, so she thought the best thing to do was drive him to a car lot in Magnus or Carlson Creek or maybe even farther away in one of the bigger cities, gesture toward a row of vehicles, and say pick one.

Claudia's excitement over what could be done with The Modern Hotel was becoming infectious, with Mark chiming in about the upcoming Winter Festival. He asked, "What about snow machines?"

When he waggled one of the envelopes, Viola said, "Use it. I'll replace the renovation money when you need it." Concerning his question about postponing the penthouse work to work on the Festival, Viola again agreed, saying, "Set you own priorities. I trust you."

They spent another hour or so talking specifics before finishing the Champagne and going their separate ways. Viola needed a good night's sleep an headed for her room.

(OOC: If your characters have Monday things to do, go for it. If not, I'm fine with moving on to Tuesday.)

 

[QwertyMaster]

Tuesday evening
Outside The Modern

Matt walked out of The Modern and breathed in the chill evening air as he tried to clear his mind and think; and he had a lot to think about. First there was what Lyra had put into his mind the day before. Ideas of buying land around the estate and developing it. All that land had once belonged to his family and they had used it as a major source of income. Only once they'd started making their money from Toland Timber did they see less and less use for the land except as space for vanity projects. Matt thought that acquiring the land would be easy. The land was worth less now than it had ever been in Matt's lifetime. If Matt liquidated some of his assets in addition the estate fund, he could rebuild the entire old West Estate and then some. Pour a little more money into the project and the estate could be able to produce enough meet all of its financial needs with a tidy little profit.

And that was it. It wouldn't bring back the lumber mills or reopen the schools. It restart the manufacturing or even stop the current bleeding the town suffered. It wouldn't make up for any of the damage he had caused to the town and everyone in it. All he would be doing was turning his own home and turn it into a perfect, little Eden of his own while the rest of Toland slid further into economic ruin. He'd be the king of an island of prosperity in a sea of misery.

Matt turned his attention to happier thoughts. Like the awkward dinner that night. Everynight since Matt had come back to town he had spent dinner with Max and her guests. Everynight Matt had stayed just long enough that he wouldn't seem rude. He barely payed attention to the others at the table and he hoped they barely paid attention to him. The previous nights it was easy for Matt to sit at the sidelines as a lively conversation about the town, recent events, or anything else that came to mind. Tonight was different though. There was an awkwardness that permeated the room that hadn't been there before. It was so obvious that Matt, disengaged as he was, had noticed it. He didn't sense any hostility from anyone but it sometimes felt they were just talking around something that they would rather being talking about. When Matt's thoughts weren't on the dinner, the estate, or the general condition of the town, his thoughts turned back to Chistie and New York. Which was the last thing he wanted to think about.

"What I could really use right now is a good, stiff drink," he said to air, "A nice whiskey would really hit the spot." Matt was surprised when a feminine voice answered his monologue, offering to help with that. Matt turned to see the woman he'd been introduced to as Viola Dean walking toward him. He'd met her briefly during the previous dinners but Matt had never given them the opportunity to talk. All he knew about her was that she was an outsider that came to town shortly before he had and that she had somehow won the affection of seemingly everyone she had met.

"Well, if you know of a good place," Matt responded to her when she repeated her offer for drinks, "Who am I to say no to a night out with a beautiful lady?" Matt wanted to satisfy his curiousity about this newcomer and thought a night of drinks might just do the trick. Or maybe I am just a sucker for a pretty face.

They had both a short walk and a shorter conversation before they arrived at The Black Hole. She briefly introduced him to the owner Vance Littleton. As Matt took the man's outstretched hand, Matt felt a little small. Vance was only a little taller than him but the absolute mass of the man made him seem bigger. Matt took a seat the table Vance pointed out to them while Viola chose to stay at the bar and have a chat with Vance. Matt took the chance to look around the bar. The space was sparse but well kept. There were obvious signs that it had been stripped down from what it once was but Matt appreciated that it was still clean and well care for; which is more than he could say for some bars he'd been dragged into. As his eyes wandered they fell back on to Viola talking to Vance at the bar.

God, she really is beautiful, he thought, that's the second drop-dead gorgeous woman that I've meet in the few days I've been here. Viola and Lyra both are the kind of beauty I'd expect to see on some photoshoot or runway back in New York, not podunk little Toland. With that thought a shot of recognition lit up his brain. He studied Viola's face more closely as she talked at the bar and as she walked towards him, carrying a pair of drinks. He wracked his brain as he tried to remember where he'd seen her before.

"Have we met?" He asked as she sat down, "I swear I've seen your face before. New York. Have you ever been to New York?"

 

[CutiePie1997]

(OOC: This is a day behind Matt's post above. Don't get confused. )

Monday evening (still) at The Modern:

Claudia was less than impressed when she asked what would bring people to Toland and Mark said, "There's the Winter Festival. Weekend after this one."

The weekend long event had long been Toland's first event following the Christmas season. Every year since long before Claudia had been born, the city had been blanketed in at least a couple of inches of snow. But forecasters were saying that temperatures and humidity levels were going to leave her home as dry as a bone until at least through the week after the Festival, which sucked!

Then, Mark suggested snow making machines that would lead to what he called a snowstorm of epic proportions. "We'll have the only snow for a hundred miles."

"Yes, yes!" Claudia reacted with joy. "Can we...? Viola, Maxine ... please!"

The general consensus from them was that the answer was a definite yes. She practically bounced around before rushing to Maxine for another hug, then repeating the gesture with Viola, and even bounding over to throw her arms around Mark. She kissed him on the cheek, then giggled and pulled away. "We're gonna have snow. I have to go tell Charlie."

She didn't even wait to see whether or not any of the three thought she should keep this to herself. Instead, she ran for the revolving door, calling out, "I'm gonna show Charlie my car. Thank you, Viola. Oh my God, thank you, thank you, thank..."

She was still calling out her gratitude as she entered, spun, and exited from the revolving door. Down on the sidewalk, she just froze in front of the Mercedes, staring in disbelief that Viola had bought this for her. Or DID she? Maybe it's a lease. Oh my God, does it have insurance.

She ran around to the driver's side and got in, melting into the leather seat. She was in absolute heaven. She'd never driven a car like this, let alone owned on. She'd driven Maxine's nineteen hundred and forever ago boat many times for errands, and once Mark had let her drive his current pickup down to the hardware store in Magnus during cold and flu season because he was pushing out nastiness from both ends of his body.

But this was like nothing she'd ever been in. Claudia couldn't even remember riding in a car like this, ever. She looked all about, surveying the normal features and luxuries both, then searched for paperwork that would indicate whether or not she had insurance. She found proof of the coverage in the name of the previous owner, but did that still apply to her?

Right then, she looked up to find Deputy Connor Evans's Interceptor sitting under a streetlamp just a block away. She leapt out and ran down the literal middle of Main Street, waving desperately at him for fear that he might be pulling away. She pointed down the street to her new car -- "My new car! I mean, my new USED car! But it's still mine, and it's still new to me! Viola Dean bought it for me! She asked about the insurance, and he told her that as long as the title hadn't been transferred, the previous owner's insurance should be valid but that she should check before she drove it.

She was disappointed that she couldn't drive it right now and yet still practically threw herself in through the window enough to hug him as he had the others. She ran back down the road, again right down the yellow line, until she was again in her new, used car! She figured out how to work the ignition fob as it had no actual metal key or anything and fired it up. It purred with the sound of money and prestige. Oh ... my ... God!

Claudia spent almost ten minutes just exploring the buttons, indicators, handles, compartments, and more. Some of it she didn't understand and would have to learn via the owner's manual, which she found in the glove box along with a thick envelope of warranties for everything from tires to mufflers to whatever! (The previous owner had been fastidious about the car's care, obviously.)

Finally, buckled in and figuring that a short drive would be alright, Claudia shifted it into gear, checked her mirror and blind spot, and pulled out onto Main. She fully circled Founders Park -- three times! -- waving to people she knew and didn't know both.

Then, she finally pulled back into the spot in front of The Modern and just sat there for half an hour, listening to the music and learning her car. Finally, she hopped out, used the fob to lock it up, and ran as fast as she could toward Charlie's house.

 

[Alice2015]

Tuesday evening
Outside The Modern

(Continued from Matt's post here.)

Viola had excused herself from dinner as the others were just being served their shares of another delicious Roxanne's pie to go upstairs and change. She'd told Vance Littleton that she'd come over and speak with him more about the renovation -- no, the restoration -- of The Black Hole to its glory days. She wasn't like most of the women who'd been part of her social circle back in Manhattan who wouldn't be seen in the same outfit twice, so she changed back into the freshly laundered clothes she'd wearing on her arrival in Toland and headed back down to the lobby.

Walking into Maxine's private quarters to thank her for another dinner, Viola caught Adam Smith, aka Matt West murmuring "What I could really use right now is a good, stiff drink. A nice whiskey would really hit the spot."

"I know just the place," Viola responded, seeming to surprise the man with her sudden reappearance.

"Well, if you know of a good place," he continued his desires.

She smiled; there was only one place to get a drink in Toland, but she wasn't about to tell him it was than and not a good place. She instead just told him, "The Black Hole Tavern. It's just two blocks away. Shall we?"

"Who am I to say no to a night out with a beautiful lady?"

Viola laughed, as it was the first time she thought that he'd said anything to her that sounded even vaguely like flirting. In fact, it was almost the first thing he'd said to her at all, at least directly to her and only for her; he'd partaken of conversation at the dinner table, but to Viola, none of it had seemed very personal or revealing at all.

But who was she to make inquiries of people, right? She was living under a false name after her true identity had supposedly been killed and disappeared and she'd stolen $230 million dollars from the man accused of her murder and disappearance -- her father -- and had spent an easy million dollars to a computer hacker to ensure that she was never seen or heard from again.

On the way to The Black Hole, Viola wanted so badly to ask personal questions of the man but didn't. Instead, she asked such things as What do you think of Toland? How do you know Maxine? Do you think we're going to get snow for the Winter Festival? and Have you even heard of the Winter Festival?

At the tavern, Viola stood at the bar for a couple of minutes talking to Vance about what he'd accomplished in the past two days. The truck that had arrived on Monday had delivered his booze and stuff, but he was still waiting for the pool tables, shuffleboard, darts, and more.

"Maxine ... well, Mark actually, gave me the name of a guy here in town who used to run a maintenance company in Toland," Viola told him. With a sheepish grin, she said, "I hope you don't mind, but I hired him to come in to sand and polish the floors and bar and such." She grimaced playfully, adding, "Sorry, I meant to tell you earlier. He's coming tomorrow at 6 o'clock to get started. I can open up if you want to give me a key."

They chatted and laughed about her taking charge of the situation before she headed for Matt's table with two drinks; Vance had to take care of a patron at the bar but would be over in a minute to deliver a pitcher and two glasses as well.

"Have we met?" Matt asked Viola as she held out her shot glass in toast.

The question shocked her a bit, but -- with her typical, calm, demeanor -- she was able to hide the surprise.

"I swear I've seen your face before," he continued. "New York. Have you ever been to New York?"

"No, no I haven't," she said. She downed the drink, taking the little pause to recall the story she'd been telling others since her arrival; she'd almost fucked up the night she'd met Vance "Little John" Littleton and said she'd seen him play in a game at the stadium in New Jersey. "No, always wanted to see the Big Apple, but never made it there."

Vance arrived with the beer and a basket of JoJo's he was now making now that he'd had the grease fryer cleaned up for the reopening. As he left, Viola recalled from her fake Viola Dean social media presence, "No, I grew all around the US. My father was in the Air Force, so we moved quite a lot. Bases from coast to coast. Spent some time in Europe. Guam. Tokyo even. The worst was Manilla. They had another earthquake and volcano explosion. Scary shit. Couldn't wait to get out of there."

She asked about him, again asking about his relationship to Maxine. "She didn't tell me how she knew you, but it sounded like maybe you used to live here in Toland at some point." Viola leaned in, saying just loud enough to hear over the Bluetooth-provided music, "Don't tell her I repeated that. She let is slip. Said she knew you when you were a boy, but when I asked more ... well, she's a tight-lipped lady when she wants to be."

A pair of blue-collar types entered, calling out to Vance for a pitcher. One of them ogled Viola intensely for a moment, then turned his attention to his buddy as they both headed to the bar. Viola asked Matt, "So ... is there a Missus Adam Smith?" She gestured to his left ring finger, pointing out, "Suntan line."

 

[TiredFingers]

Monday evening (still) at The Modern:

(Continues from Claudia's post.)

Connor Evans was actually off shift and heading home in his Department-issues vehicle when he looked up to see a figure running down the middle of Main. He watched with a touch of concern but not panic. This was, after all, Toland, where you could run down the middle of the streets like a madman all day long and never put yourself in danger of becoming a hood ornament.

When he recognized the figure in his headlights as Claudia Owens, and she seemed to be dancing with glee, Connor relaxed. She reached the window, out of breath from her run and excitement. She cried out in joy, and while he didn't catch the first part of it, he understood, "My new car! I mean, my new USED car! But it's still mine, and it's still new to me! Viola Dean bought it for me!"

She started asking questions about insurance and legality and whatnot. Connor flicked on his car's headlights, then switched them to high beam, lighting up the beautiful convertible Mercedes sitting in front of The Modern. Claudia was still going on about wanting to drive it but not being sure if it was covered, but Connor's mind was stuck on the Viola Dean bought it for me part of the rant.

"Sure, you can drive it still," he told the bubbling volcano of a teen outside his cruiser. He told her to check the registration and maybe go inside and check with Viola. For all they knew, the woman had already bought the girl's ride its own insurance policy. "But I wouldn't go far without being sure."

Suddenly, the girl was through the window with her arms wrapped around his head as she excitedly hugged him, as if he was the one who'd bought her the car instead. Connor just laughed, telling her, "I'm excited for you. Go have fun." He told her the same thing he told all of his community's new, young drivers when they got their first car. "And remember that the speed limit is still usually faster than walking."

That was a lesson he himself had learned the hard way when he'd been a kid. His father's favorite punishment for Connor after he'd bought his own car was to take it away from him any time he'd done something wrong: bad grades, mouthing off to an adult, missing a sporting practice because it was more important to be out behind the school having sex in said car with his girlfriend. Things like that.

Connor watched Claudia bounce her way back to the Mercedes, then pulled slowly forward until he could see the license plate number in his headlights. As he continued onward, he called in the number and got back a report that all was fine and good with the vehicle. It belonged to a man who lived outside Magnus. Connor pulled over, pulled out his phone, and pulled up one of the areas foremost web sites for selling used car. Filtering for used, Mercedes, and silver or gray, he found it right there, with the big red letters SOLD right over the picture.

Still, that did nothing to alleviate Connor's questions about why a woman who had only just arrived in Toland and didn't know this girl for Jack would just buy her a beautiful luxury car. He hadn't heard the story about the supposed lottery win, of course, as it had only been told by Viola to Maxine, Mark, and Teenage Vesuvius there.

"You're off shift, dummy," Connor told himself, putting his phone away and restarting his drive toward home. It's nothing that won't wait until tomorrow.

 

[QwertyMaster]

Tuesday evening
The Blackhole Tavern

When Viola said that she'd never been to New York Matt was a little disappointed but not surprised. What were the odds that the random person to show up in town happened to be from New York, let alone someone he'd met. "You're quite well traveled it seems," Matt responded after she listed off the various places she'd been. "Everywhere from Europe to the Philippines and almost everything in between except New York. But I guess that comes with the territory of being an Air Force brat. I'm guessing you just remind me of one of the models I met before."

"She didn't tell me how she knew you, but it sounded like maybe you used to live here in Toland at some point." Matt had eaten a few of the potatoes and was washing them down with the beer when she said that. He just about choked on the beer when she had. He took a deep drink as quickly thought about his answer. He thought briefly about telling her the truth. She wasn't from Toland and wouldn't really know or care who he was. But she could always let something slip, if only accidentally. He also knew it was only a matter of time until his real identity came out, one way or another. If she was going to stick around, like it seemed like she was, he didn't want her to think back on their first real interaction and just remember him lying to her face. He decided it best to go with a half truth.

"My family used to do business in Toland," Matt responded, setting his drink down harder than he had intended, "I would spend time in here as my parents took care of business. Even spent a fair few nights sleeping at The Modern." While worded deceptively, all of that was technically correct; the best kind of correct. "I'm a little surprised that Maxine even remembered me. After Toland Timber was taken over and dismantled my family didn't have any business here in town anymore and I hadn't been back since." He studied her face for a bit, seeing if she bought what he'd said but it had never changed from the same calm, open smile she'd had the whole time they'd sat together. That is, up until the end, when he'd mentioned the takeover of TTC. Her smile waned just a little bit at that and Matt thought he might have messed up. Maybe something he'd said had given away that he still had a connection to the town?

"When I got tired of all the hustle and bustle of living in the big city, I remembered Toland and decided to come out here for some peace and quiet," he continued, "I reached out to a few connections and got setup at the old West estate. I was thinking about spending sometime here and, if I like it well enough, making the estate into my new home. That's what brings me town but I'm curious. What could bring someone like you all the way out here? People don't just randomly end up in a place like Toland."

He'd asked her that hoping to turn the attention away from himself. It worked for a time as Viola talked about her reasons here being in town and Matt carefully listened. Matt had spent enough time with people that wore false faces to know that as he listened to her he could tell there was something in her story that she was leaving out. He'd wasn't going to pry. He had plenty in his own story he had left out. Like The Whore and the drama of the divorce.

They were briefly interrupted by the arrival of a couple of suits. One seemed to briefly stare at their table and Matt worried that the man might recognize him, but he quickly realized it was Viola he was staring at. Matt didn't find that surprising. Who wouldn't stare at an attractive woman that had just blown into your small town out of the blue?

"So ... is there a Missus Adam Smith?" She gestured to his left ring finger, pointing out, "Suntan line."

Well, there goes Matt's attempt to keep the attention away from himself. He looked down out was hand, his thumb running along where he still sometimes felt a phantom ring. For a brief moment Matt had a small smile as he remembered the day when the ring was first slipped on to his finger. But smile quickly faded as he remembered how the marriage ended and he felt rage bubble up in him.

"She's," Matt started as a he tried to calm himself, "She's not something I like talking about. I'm sorry. Maybe someday, when things are different, we could have that conversation. But not today." Matt drained the last of his beer, slamming his glass down hard enough that it could be heard over the music. Matt sat stewing in his misery and hate before he looked at Viola, a look of obvious concern on her face.

"I'm sorry to bring the mood down," he said, "And I'm sorry to leave things on a sour note. This has been lovely. You've been lovely. But I feel like this was just a big mistake. I should probably go before I make things worse."

 

[Alice2015]

Tuesday evening
The Blackhole Tavern

Link to the OOC, should you want to look at it.


(OOC: I couldn't find anywhere that QwertyMaker stated Matt's father's given name, so I made one up below. If this was an error on my part, it will be changed. Don't let it throw you off if you see a different name down the road.)


"You're quite well traveled it seems," Matt after Viola spoke of some of the places she'd been in her life. Ironically, she actually had been to all of those locations and more, and -- though she wouldn't admit it -- she'd not only been to New York City but had lived there most of her life. He spoke of her faux-military family life, then piqued her interest with the comment, "I'm guessing you just remind me of one of the models I met before."

"One of, you say," she said, donning a devilish smirk. "You'll have to tell me about that one day."

Matt spoke of how his family had once done business in Toland. Instantly, Viola's brain began combing through its archives related to her father's hedge fund, The Robert Richardson Fund, as well as to the Toland Corporation, Inc., which RRF had torn into little pieces for its pure profit. His pure profit, Viola reminded herself; she put all of the blame for what happened to Toland specifically on her father, not the rest of RRF's board, as they were all just a bunch of sycophants.

Unfortunately, there were more than a few Smiths that came to mind; it was after all the most popular surname in the US. She'd have her hacker conspirator, Edward Winger, look into the name Adam West tomorrow. Viola couldn't know it now, but Edward would find hundreds of Adam Smiths in the United States; dozens of them in business and high finance; and two who'd actually had connections to either RRF or TCI. Of those latter two, though, one had died two years ago of heart failure at age 66, while the other was the 14-year-old grandson of a former Toland Timber foreman who'd moved his family to Canada after the corporation's death.

When he spoke of the Old West Estate, though, that did set off some alarms. Viola's research into how her father had gained control of TCI had included the name Winston West. Winston had been blamed by many for having a primary role in RRF taking control of the TCI Board. No, no, that's not right, Viola's returning memory told her. It had been his son. What was his name ... what ... was ... his ... name...?

Viola couldn't come up with the son's name now, and since it likely had nothing to do with Adam Smith, there really wasn't any reason to pursue this thread. Later, if she ever made the connection between Winston West's son and Adam Smith, Viola was going to either laugh or kick herself.

For now, Viola listened to Matt's story of his time here in Toland with the same intensity -- and goal, intelligence gathering -- that he'd listened to her when she'd been talking about her own life. Nothing he said sounded implausible or suspicious; he just seemed like a guy who'd longed for something he knew that was simpler than his former life, and Toland fit that description.

Viola had thought she'd controlled her tells when Matt spoke of TTC and TCI -- Toland Timber Company and its parent company Toland Corporation, Inc. -- but she hadn't. Would it come back to haunt her? Viola couldn't know now.

What she did know was that she'd struck a nerve speaking about his wife, estranged wife, or ex-wife, whatever the woman was to him now. Viola knew she should have been more careful about that; missing wedding rings either meant a divorce, a mugging, or a man stepping out on his wife. Something about Matt told Viola that that last one wasn't the right one.

"She's ... she's not something I like talking about. I'm sorry. Maybe someday, when things are different, we could have that conversation. But not today."

"I understand," Viola responded, feeling as though she'd hurt him more than she'd initially believed. "Won't bring it up again."

He finished his drink, slammed the glass down, then told her, "I'm sorry to bring the mood down. And I'm sorry to leave things on a sour note. This has been lovely. You've been lovely. But I feel like this was just a big mistake. I should probably go before I make things worse."
Viola was conflicted about whether to ask Matt to stay or let him go, but in the end, she let him stand and even let him toss some bills onto the table to cover the tab. But before he got more than a couple of steps away, she called to him, "Adam!" When he turned to look at her, Viola smiled, telling him with a sincere tone, "Thank you ... for coming out with me tonight. I enjoyed it. And you didn't bring down the mood."

She put her fingertips to the corners of her smile and lifted them playfully, saying, "See! Still smiling. I'll see you again soon hopefully." A thought struck her suddenly, and she said, "Maybe you'll take me out to see ... what did you call it, the West Ranch ... West Estate? I haven't gotten out of Toland's City Limits yet. It would be nice to take a drive."

After Matt was gone, Viola went to sit on a stool at the bar to talk to Vance about the upcoming restoration of The Black Hole's greatness. She told him, "I talked to a woman here in town, Marti ... Martha Griggs. I guess she's the Chief Executive of Toland...?"

Viola didn't have to explain Marti to Vance, of course. Toland had a Mayor, as did most if not all cities, but it was mostly a ceremonial position; the Mayor led the City Council, and between them they heard residents' questions, comments, and concerns, many of them resulting in some sort of money expenditures. But it was Marti Griggs as Chief Executive and Toland's City Lawyer who held the keys to the City's treasure chest; the Council could vote to spend money on anything they wanted, but if Marti told them they didn't have the funds, the money didn't get spent.

"I told Marti about The Black Hole's grand reopening," Viola continued. "I asked her about advertising and about using Founders Park for a beer garden. She gave me the paperwork for it -- I'll bring it to you tomorrow -- but she said the City didn't have any excess funds to help with advertising."

She smiled, knowing that that wasn't going to be a problem and knowing that Vance knew that, too. They chatted about the reopening before Viola headed back for her room at The Modern.

 

[Alice2015]

Thursday, March 27, 2025

Link to the OOC Thread
​

7 am:

Viola Dean was out and about early as usual. She had a busy day ahead of her and a number of people with whom she needed to speak.

She started with Maxine Toland, Claudia Owens, and Mark Zane. She found them in the middle The Modern's lobby huddled around a table that Mark had created from a sheet of plywood and a quartet of sawhorses. Spread out upon the makeshift table were ancient blueprints and floor plans of The Modern.

One set was of the lobby back in the hotel's hay day, when it featured a newsstand, a barber shop, a gift shop, and more. Maxine was speaking of how it been and what had been good and bad about it; Claudia was offering her ideas of how to make it more suitable for the second quarter of the 21st century; and Mark was telling them what was possible and how much it would cost them.

The other set was the original plans for the hotel, specifically the 3rd floor, 4-unit, 8-bedroom North Wing, which Maxine has agreed to be allowed into a single penthouse and be leased long term to Viola for $50,000 a month. It was an outrageous sum, of course, but it was intentionally so; Viola wanted two things from the agreement, privacy for herself and a butt load of cash for Maxine to use in whatever way she needed.

After that meeting, Viola made her way south to The Black Hole at 10am. Vance Littleton had been coming in early every day to meet with delivery trucks and supervise the crews doing everything from polishing the floors and bar to installing new lighting to updating the kitchen equipment. A truck was supposed to show up today with the sporting and gaming equipment: pool tables, shuffleboard table, dart boards, new Bluetooth/WiFi capable jukebox, video games, and more.

Viola had lunch and a cold soft drink, then headed out for her Noon meeting with Martha Griggs, who Viola had learned preferred Marti in casual situations. Toland's Chief Executive has set aside her lunch hour to speak to Viola about the Federal Grants for which the Mayor had applied but which the grapevine said the town wasn't going to get.

"What exactly is your interest in the Grants, Miss ... Dean?" Marti asked. "It is my understanding that you aren't even a resident of Toland."

Viola gave the woman her cover story of having won a large sum of money from an East Coast lottery and wanting to help a down and out town. She didn't think Marti was buying the story, at least not totally; to help the woman believe, Viola pulled a cashier's check from her purse and handed it across to her.

"One million dollars?" Marti said with a tone of mixed awe and confusion. "I ... I don't understand."

"Is there a way for you to make this appear as if it came to the City as one of the grants?" Viola asked.

Marti began, "You could just donate the money to--"

"No, I can't," Viola cut in. "I don't want people knowing where the money came from. I don't want people approaching me at all hours of the day, every day, asking me for money for this or that project, for this or that bill, for this or than sick child. Do you understand?"

The two talked over details, and by the time Viola left, Marti's printer was spitting out paperwork that claimed that the City of Toland had won a $700,000 grant titled "Improvements to Rural Volunteer Fire Protection" and a second one of $300,000 for "Improving Recreational Opportunities for Cities under Population of 1,000".

Viola took a break from her efforts for a piece of pie at Roxanne's at 1pm. She'd spoken to Dick Donner a couple of times already and had learned about how he divided his time between running his parents' cafe and caring for his Alzheimer's-affected father. Viola asked Dick to sit with her, and after some more chat, she said, "I like Roxanne's. Everyone likes Roxanne's. We would hate for you to shut down one day because you simply couldn't handle the stress of running it and taking care of your father. I may not know you well, Dick, but I know you enough to know that if you to make a choice between caring for your father and running your mother's cafe, you'd choose the former. Am I right?"

"You're right," Dick said without hesitation.

"So, I have a proposal for you," Viola said. "I want to invest in the cafe." She pulled out an envelope and set it before him, saying, "$50,000. How much of the cafe would this buy me?"

"With the debt I have now...?" Dick responded. "All of it."

Viola laughed, pushed the envelope closer to him as she said, "How about 49 percent? Meaning that you still have control, total control. I have no interest in being a cafe owner-operator. I just want to make sure that Maxine continues to get those delicious dinners you send her each night."

"From now on, those dinners'll be free!" Dick said, offering his hand over the table.

Viola took it, saying, "No, I want you to run me a tab for them, and I'll pay it off when I come for lunch or slices of pie."

Dick gave a slight whistle, just enough to catch the eye of his waitress and called, "Two slice of berry pie, please."

"Oh, and regarding your waitress," Viola said. "I hear she works here on a tips-only basis."

Dick grimaced playfully, leaned in, and asked, "Since we're partners now, that means you're not going to report me to the Labor Board?"

Viola laughed. "To the contrary. I want you to start paying her minimum wage plus two dollars. I want you to hire a second girl -- or guy, whatever -- for the same. And I want you to start looking for a Manager to take some of the shifts so that you can spend more time with your father."

Dick looked to the envelope of cash, wondering whether that was coming out of his newfound wealth. Viola laughed, then told him, "You tell me how much it is at the end of the week, and I'll get you more money. Does that work?"

Again, Dick extended his hand.

And with that, Viola was done with the work she'd had planned for the day.

 

[QwertyMaster]

West Estate
11 Am, Thursday, March 27

Matthew West laid on his bed, lost in deep thought. He had spent most of the previous day unpacking the last of his things and organizing his new living space to be just as he wanted it. The day had been busy, leaving him without much time think but today he had nothing to do until his regular 6 pm commitment. He'd slept in before spending the rest of the morning aimlessly roaming around the suite and thinking. Thinking about the future, his plans and possibilities. Thinking about the past, his triumphs and his heartaches. He looked at his hand, where he played with the golden band in his fingers, the light glinting off its surface with each turn it made. He'd remembered it after his conversation with Viola and had pulled it from the bottom of the bag he'd stuffed it. He'd kept it as a memento of a better time. He'd acquired it at one of the happiest points of his life and worn it proudly through many more. He'd kept it, hoping that it would remind him of those good times. He'd hoped it would remind him of how that relationship began. The trouble was that every time he thought of his marriage's beginning, he would be reminded of how it ended. Every good memory he had of his time with Christina was now soured by the thought that it could have all been a sham. That each show of love and closeness had never been geniune. He'd stared at the ring for the better part of an hour, just trying to process his memories and emotions. At first he was filled with feelings of rage and sorrow that nearly consumed him, but over time those feelings turned into nothing but a dull ache.

With one more turn the ring slipped from his fingers and slid between bed and a nightstand, landing with a clatter. Matt reached his hand into the gap until he felt the touch of a metallic object and pulled it free. He found in his hand, not his ring, but a small key. Matt's mind went instantly to the trunk at the foot of the bed. Shortly after he'd arrived he'd tried to open the trunk but he'd found it locked. He'd planned on asking Bill about but had always forgotten. Matt when went to the trunk and tried the key and found that it fit perfectly and turned with a satisfying click. When he opened it the first thing noticed was a stuffed tiger. It was old, worn, and stained; Matt instantly recognized it as "Tim," his favorite toy when he was very young. At one point he went almost nowhere without it and even after he'd outgrown it he had still left it in a prominent place in his room. The next thing he noticed was the violin case. It had been belonged to his mother, Sandra. She had loved music and would regularly play both her violin and piano at almost every chance she got. She'd awakened a love for music in Matt and he'd followed in her footsteps to learn to play himself. However, soon after her death Matt had after stopped playing music all together.

Next came a baseball mitt that his father had bought him, both to play catch with but also for Matt to use in his little league games. Games that his father was always there for, cheering him on. Then came the Pokemon cards that at one point he and his friends were at one point obsessed with. Next came his high school diploma, and the memories of his carefree school days. The trunk was full of knick-knacks, memorablia, and trophies from his childhood and youth in Toland. Eventually Matt found himself staring at a photoalbum, turning through each page and each picture. He lost himself and his sense of time as studied the faces of friends and family he hadn't seen in so long. Each picture brought memories; most happy though some were sad. Matt was glad for each one, even the pictures of his parents' funerals.

"So you finally opened up the trunk," Bill's voice broke through to Matt, cutting him out of his trance, "I was wondering when you'd decide to open it up. Made sure to leave the key for it on the nightstand where I knew you'd find it. Lorna put everything in there years ago, knowing you'd be back one day. She wanted a nice surprise for you when you did. I'm just sad she didn't get to see you open it. We have more of your stuff in storage if your ready for it but for now lets eat. Lunch was ready for your almost an hour ago and its getting cold."

"Thank you," Matt said, wiping away the tears he hadn't noticed before, "and thank you Lorna for such a wonderful gift. Just give me second to take care of my things." As Bill left his spot in the doorway Matt carefully put everything back in the trunk and locking it before promptly leaving.

 

[Alice2015]

West Estate
Noon, Thursday, March 27

(OOC: You have to imagine that both pics below are the woman from the first pic.)

Lyra had wondered where Matt, aka Adam Smith, had been during lunch but hadn't gone looking for him, thinking that maybe he wouldn't want to be interrupted in whatever it was he was doing. She finished lunch and headed to her second floor room to change out of her work clothes and into something a little more appropriate for a visit to town.

When she came back downstairs, she found Grampa Bill and Matt still at the kitchen table. Bill looked up first, smiled, then whistled like a longshoreman, saying, "Wow, look at you!"

"Oh, stop it, you ol' dog," Lyra snapped back playfully. "You've seen me in this before ... and you're too old to be acting like that."

"No one's too old to take note of you!" he returned, laughing. He reached a hand over and gently slapped Matt on the arm, as if to say Speak up, boy! Say something longshoreman dog-like. Bill knew exactly where Lyra was going -- it was Thursday afternoon, after all -- and yet he still asked, "Where you off to all fancied up like that, girl?"

Lyra only smirked at him, ignoring the question as she fetched a large travel mug from the cupboard and headed for the fridge.

Seeing that Lyra was well aware of what he was trying and wasn't going to play along, Bill said, "Hey, so ... maybe you could use some help with the run today." He looked to the home's owner and newest resident, saying, "So Ma--" He caught himself before he finished Matt's name, continuing on with, "Adam, Lyra is heading for Carlson Creek for the weekly supply run. Maybe, if you don't have any other plans, you could help her out?"

Lyra began, "I don't need help, Gram--"

But he cut her off quickly with, "You're picking up the grain for the emus today. Big bags ... heavy bags."

Lyra just stared at him as she unscrewed the lid of the quart jar of apple juice. She looked away to fill the mug, knowing that she was beat, then turned to look at Matt again. She lifted the jar for him to see, then asked, "Would you like a travel mug of this for yourself, Mister Smith? We canned it last Autumn from our trees."

Bill went on and on about the weekly trip to the next city north, asking Lyra if she'd remembered to add this or that to the list, telling her to get the bigger or smaller size of this or that, and tossing in a couple of new items he'd forgotten to tell her about earlier. He looked to Matt, saying, "We used to get all of these supplies in Toland, back before the hardware store closed ... and the feed store ... and the lumber yard--"

"Stop already, Grampa," Lyra said as she neared him, kissed him on the cheek, and then looked to Matt, smiling and saying, "Let's git."

As they headed out toward the old farm truck, Lyra looked back over her shoulder to find an ear-to-ear smiling Bill watching from the kitchen door. She just shook her head at him; he'd been trying to get her married off since she turned 18 four years ago, his old-fashioned thinking being that she needed a husband to fulfill her life.

She kept telling Bill that he was the only man she wanted in her life, to which he would often counter, But I'm a married man already. That kind of kidding ceased after Lorna's death, though, as had Bill's effort to fix her up. Without his wife here anymore, Lyra was the closest thing he had to family, at least here in Toland County. He'd been afraid that she might meet a man, get hitched, and move away, leaving him all alone.

So why was he all of a sudden trying to get her alone time with Adam Smith? Lyra didn't know yet that Adam was here for a while, possibly forever; if Lyra did hook up with Matt, it was unlikely that she'd be going anywhere at all. Of course, she didn't know that yet.

"It's not the old piece of junk that it appears to be," Lyra told Matt as they climbed into the truck. She turned the key, and the engine turned over without hesitation, purring like a baby. She told him, "1949 International Harvester KB1 half ton, 214 cubic inch flathead six-cylinder engine with an 82-horsepower 3-speed."

As she'd been describing the truck, Lyra had pulled it away from the house and into the fence lined driveway, heading for the road. It ran perfectly smooth, shifting easily. She explained, "We have a guy in Toland who went through the engine and tranny last year. Cost a penny or two or seventy-thousand of them--"

Lyra realized that that might have sounded like a lot of money to spend on an old pickup truck, so she clarified, "Seven hundred bucks. Sounds like a lot, but hell, even a new used truck that runs like this one would cost five or six thousand dollars."

They were just reaching the end of the driveway, and Lyra took the 90-degree turn onto the highway without hardly slowing down. She laughed, telling Matt, "You have to be used to the manual steering, or you can't take a turn like that that fast."

She laughed again as she shot the truck down the road, revving the engine high before shifting it into third. She honked at a man out in a field, then waved to a woman a bit farther down the road. To Matt she said, "We've got a lot of good people around here. Times have been tough for a lot of them as long as I've been alive. I was born in 2002. That real estate thing happened when I was just 6 years old, so I don't really remember much about it 'cept a lot of the kids I went to school with moving away.

"That thing with the hedge fund happened when I was 11," she went on. "I remember that one a lot! That was ... well, it was what it was." Lyra had no idea that Matt knew far more about the RRF takeover of TCI than she could and that he knew about it firsthand. "Then there was COVID. That call it the third strike, ya know. Have you heard that saying ... The Three Strikes? If you stick around here very long, you'll hear about it a lot."

She honked at another man out working in his yard; behind him was a 22-foot travel trailer sitting a few yards away from the remains of a burned-out farmhouse. Lyra explained, "That's Mister Kramer. Hank. Their place caught fire in December, just a few days short of Christmas. The Toland fire department ain't much more than an old truck and half a dozen volunteers, and they did what they could, but ... well..."

Lyra couldn't say anything more on that without sobbing and tearing up, and realizing that she'd been rambling on for the last three or four miles, she laughed and said, "Sorry. I like to talk when I drive. No radio, and I don't like headphones or ear buds, so..."

She looked over to Matt, smiled, and asked, "So, what're you going to do here in Toland?"

 

[Alice2015]

Roxanne's Cafe
5:30 pm, Thursday evening

Viola and Claudia walked into the cafe to pick up the to-go order for Maxine's daily dinner; it had been just a couple of hours since Viola had been here for a slice of pie and a business deal that would see the diner become part of her plan to save Toland. Dick Donner waved to the pair, calling out, "Just packing it up now."

"No hurry," Viola called back. She waved the waitress, Betty, over, saying, "How about adding eight milkshakes, since I have my sidekick here to help me carry it all back. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry ... let's make it three of each in case I've forgot someone."

As the two teenaged girls chatted and together made shakes and filled carry boxes with them, Viola caught sight of a man sitting in a nearby booth. He was looking through what she'd initially thought were the Job Listings in one of those Penny Saver magazines, but looking closer she realized it was a newsprint edition specifically aimed toward architects and general contractors.

He was reading postings and marking them off, one after another, then flipping the page to start all over again. It didn't take a genius to realize that he was having a hard time finding the work or project for which he was looking. Viola curled a finger at Claudia, and when the girl came close, Viola asked quietly, "Who's that?"

"Leonard ... something," Claudia answered, also in a quiet voice. "Hughes. Leonard Hughes."

"Is he a local?" Viola asked. The teen nodded. "What's he do?"

Claudia shrugged her shoulders, but Betty -- who'd brought over one of the carry-alls full of shakes said, "He builds stuff. Designs, actually. Whadda they call'em ... architects? I heard he built an aqueduct someplace, like for a farm or vineyard or something. And he built the underground sauna out at the mayor's house. I've been in it, with the Mayor's son."

Claudia's eyes and mouth opened wide in surprise as she asked, "Tim...? You and Tim?"

As the teens whispered to each other about the waitress's fun time with the mayor's kid, Viola studied the man. She asked the girls in that low volume, "What's he been doing lately?"

Dick was at the counter now, delivering the insulated hot-food carry-alls. He filled in, "Probably not much these days. His company, Imperial Designs, ... another victim of the Three Strikes*."

Viola pulled a twenty out and slid it across to Betty, asking, "Can you be a dear and help Claudia get all of this to Maxine before she blows a fuse over us being late?"

The teen was tickled to get the tip; Dick was about to close anyway and waved her away. Viola slid a hundred to Dick to cover the meal, doing her own wave to indicate he should take the balance as a tip for the $55 dollar meal.

"Do you mind?" Viola said as she slid into Leonard's booth, extending her hand and saying, "Hi. I'm Viola. Viola Dean. I'm staying at The Modern. We're having some renovation work done over there, and we haven't found a general contractor or architect or ... well, anyone other than the hotel's handyman who's going to do some of the work. I was wondering whether you might be looking for a project."

They talked for half an hour as Dick cleaned up and shut down. When they stood, shook hands, and went their separate ways, Viola was $30,000 poorer and had a contractor, Leonard was $30,000 richer and had a project, and -- less than 24 hours later -- there'd been more than 2 dozen men and women working at The Modern who previously didn't have jobs.

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

IMPORTANT NOTE: The character, Zandar Atura, has been eliminated from the story. If you are only just now reaching this part in the story, you can ignore posts from Zandar's writer and any references to him that might still exist. He has been replaced by the character, Leonard Hughes.

* The Three Strikes: the collective term for the 2008 real estate prompted economic collapse; the 2013 hedge fund rape of Toland; and the 2020 COVID-19 shutdown. Together, they destroyed Toland.

 

[Tygaara117]

Zandar Akaru head the people talking while he was looking through Penny Savers magazine, circling different posts about architectural designs. He flipped back the beginning again scanning the posts again. Looking as he heard a woman speaking to him, his eyes scanned over her body for a moment admiring the curves looking into her eyes "Hello Viola Dean. My name is Zandar Akaru. What kind of architectural designs are looking for specifically for The Modern?" .

After speaking he would reach for the cup coffee as he takes a few sips noticing the money on the table beside him, making a mental note to himself to ask Viola Dean more about what she do and why she chose The Modern.

Waiting for a moments Zandar Akaru thought about what Viola Dean said to him as he gives her a brief smile "Well your idea does intrigue me and I would say yes, but first let me freshen up little and I can bring my sketch books so you and Maxine may look at some the designs I made for my past clients. I design in ancient Greece and Roman types. I agree to helping with renovations. You will have to pay for the materials and labor."

 

[Alice2015]

post deleted

 

[Tygaara117]

Zandar looks at Viola for a moment "Very well I be at The Black Hole at eight pm tonight". He offers her smile and a little wink. He stands up to his full height, the shirt he is wearing shows that he is in good shape. As he leaves he thanks Dick and Betty for another lovely meal. Smiles at the waitress's hands them each of them a twenty dollars. Leaves the cafe walking towards his home. Entering his home he quickly showers and freshen up changing into black cargo pants and light blue shirt. Arriving little early at the Black Hole, he talked to Vance Littleton for a moment and finds Viola table in the corner as he orders a pitcher of beer and three glasses. He takes out his sketch books going through them. Zandar scans a few pieces that he thinks Viola would like design wise, placing them next to him and places the books in front of him. As he waiting he opens one the sketch books to fresh clean page,starts sketching out a tough draft of new design that came to his mind.

 

[TiredFingers]

Thursday, March 27, 2025
7:00 am (before the above posts from Zandar and Viola, obviously)

Link to the OOC Thread


Mark had been up at 5am to get in a run and a half hour long run as part of his training for his upcoming boxing match. He took the same route that he often did: Main Street to a left on Toland Avenue, then east all the way to the Vizcaino River bridge, and back. (City Map link)

He liked this route because although the city hadn't had an overabundance of money for street maintenance, Toland Avenue was actually still considered a State Road. Once upon a time, it had been part of Highway 90. So, outside of Toland to the east, the state still maintained it, taking care of the potholes and, recently, widening it and adding mandated shoulders with pedestrian/bike space. It made it wider and safer for Mark to jog.

Plus, he loved the scenery along the way. The Industrial Park to the left and the Toland Lumber Company to the right were not mostly slumbering, silent giants now. There were a few people operating small businesses out of the once mighty facilities. But for the most part there was only silence and scattered lights and vehicles anymore.

Mark could hear a grinder off to the right in the lumber yard and couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was illegal metal scavengers. The Sheriff's Department patrolled the massive property daily but rarely caught anyone doing anything wrong. That was because Toland only had one resident Deputy, Connor Evans, and the Department only sent one of their other Deputies out to Toland on the days that Connor was off. Even then, they rarely did much beyond roll slowly through town once, maybe stop for a cup of coffee at The Sunrise Cafe or The Convenience Store in the morning or Roxanne's during the afternoon.

Little by little, the great businesses of the City of Toland were being picked apart like a dead sheep surrounded by buzzards.

There were other things to see on Mark's run that had nothing to do with Toland's demise. He liked this route because it took him out to the Vizcaino River Bridge, one of the last remaining, working covered bridges in the State. Reaching it, mark would jog in place for a couple of minutes to keep himself warm or use the bridge rails or overhead supports for calisthenics.

One of Mark's fondest memories was coming out to the bridge with his friends when they were teens, climbing up into the rafters, and then dropping unnoticed onto the beds or into the cargo of trucks heading into Toland. Their favorite trucks were those delivering produce, particularly fruits, to the markets or processing plants in the City. They'd gorge on whatever they'd found until the truck reached its destination, then grab as much as they could keep hold of and run off without the driver catching them.

One day long ago, things didn't go as the boys had expected, and they'd ended up riding a through truck more than 60 miles to the west of Toland. Mark and two others had waited for the truck to halt at a stop light or slow enough for them to safely disembark, but it was just their luck that the truck had smooth sailing all the way into the Capital City. They'd had to hitchhike all the way back, not reaching their homes almost dark. There'd been hell to pay for that for all three of them.

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After showering and changing, Mark headed to the lobby, where he found Maxine Toland and Claudia Owens already looking over the blueprints and floor plans of The Modern. Viola Dean would come down shortly after that, looking as hot as she always did. Maxine and Claudia did most of the talking regarding the new layout of the hotel's lobby.

When they moved on to the renovation of the North Wing's 3rd floor, Mark took over. He'd made a supply run to Magnus the day before and picked up a sheet of transparency plastic and a multi-color pack of wet erase markers. He drew lines, circles, X marks, and more to describe the things that had to be done to turn the 4 two-bedroom hotel suites into one massive penthouse.

"I understand what you're wanting to do, Viola, I really do," he said after he got done marking up the sheet over top the floor plan. "And I'm fully capable of doing the carpentry work or have guys who can, guys you authorized me to hire."

She asked what the problem was, to which Mark said, "I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't have the education or experience to know what kind of possible adverse effects all of this work might cause. What I mean is this: I'm not entirely certain what might happen if we remove these bearing walls as you've asked, or exactly what thickness or strength supports are necessary to replace them. Things like that. I mean, I can tear this shit out and replace it all new the way you want it to be. But I can't guarantee that it's going to keep standing the first time we get a tornado strength wind or three feet of snow over three days like we did last December. You need a trained and experienced architect for that."

Little did Mark know that later in the day, Viola would find just the architect she was looking for.

 

[Alice2015]

The Modern
7:30 am, Thursday

(Claudia's profile, in case you want to read more about her.)

Claudia Owens was thoroughly excited about the future of The Modern Hotel. She could remember when it was the center of activity in Toland, far more than just a place for tourists to lay their heads at night. As a little girl, she'd come here with her mother to dance to the music on Saturday nights; she'd bought post cards at the gift shop to send to her grandmother in Florida; and she'd watched the women get perms and colorings at the beauty shop.

For the past two years, The Modern had been Claudia's home. After she'd fled her mother's house and come to live under Maxine's roof, she'd considered fighting for her emancipation. But now at 18, it wasn't necessary; she was an independent woman now.

An alarm went off in her phone, causing Claudia to cry out, "Oh, God! I have to go!"

She hurried out through the revolving door and down to the car that Viola had bought her. She'd arranged full coverage insurance for it yesterday, so now she could drive it without fear. She had to get to school in Carlson Creek by 8:05, and she had to make a stop along the way.

Six blocks later, she came to a quick stop in front of Charlie's house, calling out, "Let's go, boyfriend!"

 

[TiredFingers]

Outside Charlie Reed's house
7:30 am, Thursday

(OOC thread)

Charlie had set an alarm in his phone, in his radio alarm clock, in his Smart TV, and in his laptop. It was all done to ensure that he woke up on time to be ready for Claudia's arrival at 7:30. Viola had given Claudia a car, an incredible Mercedes convertible, on Monday. On Tuesday, she'd gotten insurance. On Wednesday, they'd each gotten permission to drive to school in Carlson Creek with each other. And today they were doing just that for the first time.

He'd hurried through his shower, dressing, and breakfast to ensure he was outside. Claudia had made it clear that if he wasn't on time, she couldn't afford to be late to school. Claudia was very much the dedicated student, likely to become Class Valedictorian or, at the least, Salutatorian. She wasn't going to risk that because her boyfriend wasn't on time to get to school in the last month of their last year of high school.

As he hurried out to the end of the driveway, Charlie thought to himself, Boyfriend. I'm Claudia Owens's boyfriend. And he wasn't just her boyfriend. He was her lover. Oh, sure, they'd only had sex just that one night. But dear God, it had been the most exciting night of his life. He'd been hoping that they would have done it again since then, but things just hadn't turned out that way. Yet! he told himself, yet again.

He looked down the road toward the City of Toland for Claudia's car. The Reed home sat just outside the City of Toland, the first house north of city limits on the west side of Main Street. (Map) Actually, out here beyond city limits, Main Street wasn't Main Street anymore. On most maps, the road was identified as State Highway 15, but the Reeds' address according to the United States Postal Service was 25255 North River Barge Road.*

Suddenly, there was the Silver Bullet, streaking up the road toward Charlie. The Silver Bullet was the name Charlie had come up with the car. Claudia had laughed at the suggestion and, even now days later, hadn't yet told him whether or not she liked it or not. Well see, he said as it approached, slowed, and stopped at the end of his driveway. Claudia called to him, "Let's go, boyfriend!"

Charlie smiled wide at her speaking the word boyfriend. It was the first time she'd said it that way to him, and it made him very happy. He ran around to the passenger side and leapt in. He would lean her way to see if Claudia wanted a good morning kiss, but he'd be casual about it, not wanting to look overanxious.

* River Barge Road: Alice2015 has a good story about this, but it hasn't been posted yet. Be on the lookout for it.​

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(OOC: We're going to start another 1x1 to cover Charlie and Claudia's first day of actually letting people at school know that they are a couple. It will include multiple short posts that will take days to write, and we don't want to clutter the main IC thread or delay it moving forward with this. It will be called "The Unlikely Couple: Charlie and Claudia")

 

[Alice2015]

The Black Hole Tavern
8pm, Thursday, March 27, 2025

Viola Dean entered The Black Hole fashionably late and wearing one of the outfits she'd bought from Keen to be Seen the previous weekend. The owner of the formerly defunct women's fashion shop, Marjorie Keen, had begun the restocking of the store with the $30,000 Viola had given her over the weekend. As a tribute to Viola's help, Marjorie had ordered two dozen pairs of black boots of varying styles and promised her pick of them, even all of them is she wanted.

She found what she always found when she entered the tavern, multiple pairs of eyes -- mostly male but female as well -- looking her over with interest, curiosity, and/or lust. She gave them what she always did, too: a sly, knowing smirk and a sexy, hip-swaying walk up to the bar to the bar to chat with Vance Littleton.

Viola and Vance spoke about his progress in preparing for the grand reopening in April. Everything seemed to be right on schedule. She asked him if there was anything more he needed, telling him that he'd get it. She collected the tray holding the pitcher of beer, glasses, and shots, waving off Vance's offer to carry them himself.

"You have patrons to deal with," Viola said, looking around. All of the activity at the tavern over the last week had attracted attention and customers who didn't normally patronize the tavern during the week. She smiled to Vance, saying with obvious pleasure, "Looking good already, Vance. Looking good."

Arriving at the corner booth, Viola greeted her new contractor, Leonard Hughes. She waited for him to clear some space, set the tray down, offered out her hand, then sat directly across from him. She reached for one of the drawings, asking, "May I?"

They would spend almost two hours talking about her vision and what he could realistically do for her; the ancient Hotel meant there would be restrictions of which Viola wasn't aware.

Her vision was simple, Viola thought about the North Wing's 3rd floor:

• The floor was rectangular in shape, about 50% longer than it was wide.
• A pair of two-room suites was on either side of a hallway that cut down the middle of the length of the floor.
• At one end of the hallway was an elevator, while at the other end was a double set of French doors that led out onto a small balcony that looked out to the north. (The Modern's second elevator -- which was also currently out of order -- serviced the South Wing's third floor just as this one did the North; the hotel's 1st and 2nd floors, which weren't divided into north-south but were one floor, could be accessed from both elevators.)
• A stairwell was located at each end of the hallway as well, for emergency use or for those who wished a bit of exercise.

"So, the plan is quite simple, actually," Viola began. She drew lines this way and that, explaining as she went, "I want these three suites--" She indicated the one nearest to the elevator on the left, Main Street side and the two furthest from the elevator, continuing, "--to be combined into one penthouse. This fourth one here to the right out of the elevator is to remain a two-suite apartment for a Personal Assistant who I will soon be hiring to be at my beck and call."

Viola laughed softly, wondering if Leonard might think she was some sort of spoiled upper-class bitch who always gotten what she wanted as a child. She had, of course, but it wasn't because she'd been spoiled; her father had simply had the means to make Viola happy, so he'd thought Why not?

They finished their talk, and as Viola's day had been long already, she excused herself. She told Vance, "His tab is on me ... all of it, anything he wants."

JUST REPEATING MY IMPORTANT NOTE: The character, Zandar Atura, has been eliminated from the story. If you are only just now reaching this part in the story, you can ignore posts from Zandar's writer and any references to him that might still exist. He has been replaced by the character, Leonard Hughes.

 

[Tygaara117]

Zandar looked over the plans Viola had drawn up "Well I can do simple Greek pillars they would be four. Two her and another two here" He indicate with the end of his pencil. We could a simple marble flooring and knock out the supporting walls". He tried not to notice Viola low cut top that offered an enticing glimpse of her chest. As he continued to.study the rough draft of her vision " I can add two fountains one at each end of you like". He smiles at Viola as he raised his shot glass to her.

Downs the shot and takes a drink of his beer as he wonders if Viola is interested in him then just a consultant. Looks into her eyes for a !moment to let her think of his idea as he shifts little in the chair as he reached over taking the envelope she offered him as a payment for the moment.

 

[Alice2015]

The Black Hole Tavern
8pm, Thursday, March 27, 2025

"Well, I can do simple Greek pillars," Zandar said. "There would be four. Two here and another two here."

As Viola listened, she couldn't help but catch the man taking a peek toward the cleavage that her outfit revealed. He might have been trying not to look or, at the least, trying not to get caught looking, but she'd seen it. To be honest, she would have been disappointed if he hadn't peeked. Although Viola had far too many things to do in Toland for the next days, weeks, maybe even months to be looking for sex, she knew that eventually she'd have an itch that needed scratching, and she liked the idea of knowing that there were so many good-looking men -- and women, too -- from which to choose who also might have the same thoughts about her. Zandar was one of them, for certain.

"We could a simple marble flooring and knock out the supporting walls," he went on, indicating locations with his pencil's tip. "I can add two fountains one at each end of you like."

"About that," she said, picking up her own pencil once again. Outside of the rectangle that represented the rooms of the 3rd Floor North Wing, Viola drew several shapes that without explanation could have been just about anything. She told Zandar, "Right here is the old terrace that sits between the 3rd Floors of the North and South Wings. It's about 60 feet by 60 feet, includes a long-abandoned fountain and had once been used for summer events, such as weddings, anniversary celebrations, and the like.

"I like your Roman architecture drawings," she continued, picking through some of the sketches until she found the one that featured a multi-layered fountain/waterfall arrangement. She tapped the pencil to it, "I want this up there. Put it in one corner with some greenery ... maybe some ten-foot-tall trees ... a rhodie or two ... maybe even an arborvitae hedge. Then, I want to convert one of the suites in the South Wing closest to the Terrace to storage, for all of the chairs, tables ... the DJ equipment and bandstand ... everything that would be necessary to stage a wedding. Currently, all of that stuff is kept in the basement, and everything Maxine hosts an event, it has to be lifted via the elevators. Inefficient."

They talked about the possibilities for the Terrace for a while, and Viola could have spent another couple of hours talking with Zandar; he was an intelligent man with a keen mind and interesting personality, not to mention attractive. But a yawn unexpectedly slipped from her mouth, and -- after she'd laughed and apologized -- Viola said, "I really need to head back to The Modern and get some sleep."

She reached out to pat the envelope of money, saying, "That is for your ideas, Zandar. Come by The Modern when you can -- soon, please -- and speak to Maxine and Mark -- he's the handyman -- about what we can accomplish together. And if you take the job, we'll negotiate a fee."

Viola stood, offered her hand out, and with a wide smile, said, "I'm so happy we met, Zandar. I think we can do wonderful things together."

She went to the bar to say goodnight to Vance and drop a hundred on the counter to cover the tab and the tip -- far more than she'd needed to leave, as usual -- then headed for the door. Taking one last look Zandar's way, she wondered the same thing about him that he'd wondered about her: is there a possibility of more here than just renovating The Modern.

 

[Tygaara117]

Zandar listens to Viola ideas as he draws what she wants in great detail, as he seeing her challenge his intelligence and his keen mind. Finding her attractive was something he couldn't pass up. Although this was a business arrangement he wondered if there was more a renovation of the Modern between them , knowing they both would have an itch to scratch later. Listening to Viola talking and watching her eyes light up with excitement of the multilayered fountain/water fall and the terrance.

"It would take me about six to seven months start to finish with the multilayered fountain/waterfall since that would be the biggest part of the renovation. We should start with that first. After it completed, we should continue phase two the Terrance would the second big project for the Modern. Lastly we finish with the walls and flooring. Would accompany me around the Modern, as a tour Viola?"

As he finished speaking he added the last part as a way to spend more alone time with Viola and to test of there was a mutual attraction between them. Since he can sense there was his eyes look down at her exposed cleavage, as he smirks to himself picturing how Viola nipples looked and the rest of her body as well.

Viola's yawning broke his mental trance as he shakes his head a little "We can meet before Friday at the Modern so we use the sketches to compare the sizes of the Terrence and fountain/waterfall". He takes the money and placing it into his pocket. "I will enlarge these designs and what you want added as well so it be easier to use. I hope you have a good night and restful evening Viola." Gathering his sketch books and her drawing, he leaves the bar quietly. Wonders of she saw the reaction her outfit and body had on him. He knew he would have to take care of it. She given mental images the help with it.