The Hollisters A StoryChapter 2 Settling
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SouthboundChapter 6: Settling In free porn video
Our new press was in transit and was expected to arrive at the Oakland container terminal at the end of the month. In the meantime, the internal VOC (Volatile Organic Compounds) oxidizer required to meet California standards was being installed. The previous system had been grandfathered and didn't meet the newer requirements.
The old presses had already begun to be removed and once they and the older laminator and pouch machine were out, the floor would have an industrial epoxy finish applied. Then, an internal ink room would be built with all the safety and ventilation controls necessary. It was hard to believe the inks had been stored outside in a chain link fenced enclosure. Apparently, this wasn't the only plant where that was the case, but as with the VOC control system, that area had been grandfathered too.
Photopolymer printing plates would be supplied from Langley for the time being until volumes supported a separate unit. We used the latest computer-to-plate technology and had plenty of additional capacity. We would be installing a sleeve mounting machine at Tracy to reduce the bulk of shipping pre-mounted plates. Our film suppliers would remain the same for both plants. If small volumes of specialty films were required, they could be sent from Langley as well.
I set about finding a more permanent place to live on Friday. Leo was heading home today, not planning to return for at least three weeks. Ralph would go with him, but return the middle of next week. He was determined to oversee the contractor's work and make sure it was up to his standards. Ralph was a bit of a perfectionist, but I welcomed that in these circumstances.
I stopped at the largest real estate company in the county. Well, it said they were on their sign. I wasn't looking for anything special. A three bedroom bungalow would be the starting point. A ranch style home was common in these parts, so I assumed it gave me the most variety to choose from.
I avoided talking to an agent for about thirty minutes until I had a sense of what prices were like. There was plenty of inventory, however I didn't know the neighbourhoods, so I couldn't judge if they were desirable possibilities or not. It was time to talk to an agent.
I approached a middle-aged woman who dressed professionally and looked reasonably prosperous.
"Hello, I'm Andy Andrews. I'll be moving to this area in a short time and I'm looking for a house."
I got a big smile as dollar signs flashed in her eyes. "Hello, I'm Sylvia Castro, and no, I'm no relation to Fidel," she laughed. "Why don't you come into the conference room and I can get some details from you."
For the next hour, I provided my musts, wants, and like-to-haves. I gave her my financial information and place of work. I was quite pleased with her approach. She didn't have any other agenda than to find a house that fit my specifications. She went over a map of both Livermore and Pleasanton and showed me the good areas and the not-so-desirable areas. Then she pinpointed the location of the houses that fit my budget and needs.
We narrowed the field down to six to begin with. The price range was between $350,000 and $450,000. I had to remind myself that my mortgage payments had a tax deductible component. Silvia did a good job of explaining what the tax system was, including the property taxes.
Leo had been particularly generous with my salary and it made it easier to contemplate buying a home. Even though I was still paying the remaining mortgage and taxes on my former home, I had adequate income to purchase a home here in California. If Carla was to sell our Langley home, we would split the equity and my voluntary obligation would come to an end.
We scheduled four tours on Saturday and two on Sunday afternoon. By late Sunday afternoon, I had seen one house that I liked and Sylvia assured me that it was in a good district. It was also at the top end of my budget. I wanted a second opinion. I pulled out my cell phone and called Fiona.
"Hi Fiona, it's Andy. I need some help from you," I said, hoping I hadn't disturbed her.
"Sure, Andy. What can I do?"
"I'm looking at a house in the vicinity of Broadmoor and Idlewild. Do you know the area?"
I could hear a low chuckle. "I should. I live about two blocks from there. What's the address?"
I gave it to her.
"I'll meet you there in five minutes."
"Great. I'd like your opinion."
"Sure thing, I'll be there shortly."
That was a break. She would know the neighbourhood. Sylvia had gone home and I could get an unvarnished opinion without any hype or pressure.
True to her word, Fiona appeared five minutes later with a young lady accompanying her. I guessed that this was her daughter.
"Andy, this is my daughter, Tina. Tina, this is Mr. Andrews, my boss."
"Hi, Mr. Andrews. I've been hearing a lot about you," she grinned.
"Oh, not all bad I hope."
"No ... nothing like that. As a matter of fact..."
"Christina!" Fiona said in a warning voice. "Enough."
I looked at the young girl and saw a secret smile, then turned to her mother, who looked much more concerned.
"Which house were you looking at?" Fiona asked, breaking the silence.
I pointed across the street at a low ranch style home with a big tree in the front yard and an attached garage.
"Nice," she said. "Looks really well kept. These houses were built in the seventies. Have they updated the inside?"
"Yes. You can see the pictures on the realty website. It's got a new heat pump and a new roof. The kitchen is about three years old. All stainless steel appliances. Nice wood floors in many of the rooms. The bathrooms have all been redone. It's almost a new house."
"It's a good neighbourhood, Andy. Tina and I feel safe here and we're away from the heavy traffic zone."
"That's good to know. The price is at the upper end of my budget, but maybe I can make an offer and see if the owners will come down. It's been on the market for over six months."
"I don't know what your agent told you, but real estate is a tough sell these days. There are a lot of foreclosures and bank sales on the market. If you knock five to seven percent off the asking, you might get it without too much haggling."
"Thanks for the advice. If I decide to make an offer, I'll do just that. I want to do a little more looking, but I have to admit that this is a nice area. I've looked at two other houses in this area and they weren't as nice as this one. Of course, they weren't as expensive either," I noted.
"If you're all done for the day," Fiona said, "why don't you stop by the house. I can offer a cold beer or a glass of wine."
"That's very nice of you. Thank you. I'll take you up on the offer. I'll drive you there."
The two women got into my rental and we drove the two-and-a-half blocks to her house. When we arrived, I could see that it looked a lot like the one I had just shown them, including the big tree in the front yard and the attached garage.
"I wonder if these were built by the same contractor?"
"Probably," Fiona said. "He built most of this subdivision. Something like a hundred homes if I remember correctly."
"How long have you lived here?"
"Uhhm ... you were six when we bought this house, Tina, so it's been eleven years in April."
"You've done very well to provide a home for your daughter as a single parent. That couldn't have been easy."
"Mom worked her buns off," Tina said abruptly.
"Tina," Fiona reproved.
"Well you did, Mom. She nearly redid the whole inside of the house almost by herself, Mr. Andrews."
"I'm not surprised, Tina," I said in support. "Your mother is a high achievement person and is going to do very well in the future."
"Maybe she'll have time to find a boyfriend or even a husband," Tina said with a look of frustration.
"Christina, you're out of line," Fiona said, showing signs of an embarrassing blush.
The young girl turned to me and gave me a raised eyebrow before prancing out of the room.
"I'm sorry, Andy. She can be quite irritating at times."
"I didn't mind a bit, but then, I wasn't the object of her needle. She gave me the impression she's very proud of you."
"I know ... I'm lucky I guess. She is a good kid and I don't have to worry about her too much. No more than any mother does I guess. They grow up so fast these days that I almost wish I could slow it down."
"I've been thinking the very same thing about my sons. Our oldest, Neal, is going into his third year of college and Phil will be starting his first. It won't be very long before both will be out on their own and leading completely independent lives."
"You told me your youngest was living with his mother in your old home," Fiona said.
"Yes. My ex-wife decided she wanted something more out of her life. She found our life boring. Our divorce was final just before Christmas. We were married nearly twenty-three years. I'm still getting used to being on my own. This new job will help me keep my mind off the past for now."
"Boring? I find that hard to believe," she said with a shake of her head.
"What she was saying was that we found we had little in common among our interests. We co-existed for the sake of the children and when that became unnecessary, she decided to strike out on her own. It was a pretty painless divorce as divorces go. We still get along fairly well, just not together."
She nodded, but didn't probe further.
"So what are your interests?" she asked at length.
I shrugged. "I like to read. I'm more likely to pick a non-fiction book than fiction. I'm a football fan, a modest hockey fan, and a late-season baseball fan. I play golf, but not well. I walk and try to preserve some fitness at an exercise center. I pretty much did my knees in playing football and skiing. I'm fascinated by politics at all levels, but I would never in my lifetime run for office. I can eat almost anything except Brussels sprouts. I guess that about covers it."
"I guess it does," she laughed. "You forgot your shoe size."
"Ten," I chuckled in reply.
"So, who's your NFL team?"
"Seahawks, of course," I stated, almost indignantly.
"Oh no! Not another one."
"What about you?"
"Silver and black. Just win, baby. The Raaaay-duhs!"
"Talk about a lost cause," I harrumphed.
"You just wait," she taunted. "One of these drafts we're going to get a quarterback."
"Well, you could be right," I laughed. "You keep finishing last and the law of averages says you'll get one sooner or later."
"And your hockey team is the Canucks, I assume," she said.
"Naturally. And yours?"
Grace
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