Wobegon Boy by Garrison Keillor

Author:Garrison Keillor [Keillor, Garrison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101640210
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 1998-11-01T05:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Rome

I drove out to the farm with Howard the week after Thanksgiving, Howard talking about opening a bed-and-breakfast in the farmhouse and getting some cash flow going. Something was better than nothing, he said. He wondered if maybe I would like to move into the house, bringing my own furniture, and be the innkeeper. The Gibbs Farm checking account was gone, he said, flat broke, and of the other partners, seven wanted to sell out their interest, even at a loss.

“Who could they sell it to?” I asked.

“Well, that’s just it—they can’t. What they don’t realize is that Steve now has a de facto majority interest in the place. We owe him so much money that he’s negotiating directly with the bank. Steve, I think, would be open to the idea of us leasing the house from him for a B-and-B, and eventually a restaurant, and he could have the barn for his meditation center. He’s holding a men’s retreat in the spring. You’re invited, by the way.”

The fields of corn stubble flew by, a meadow where two horses raised their heads to watch the car pass, a farm with a bright-blue silo.

“Steve meditates by sitting very quietly and watching his prey,” I said. “And we’ve been retreating from him for three years.”

“Let’s not be unpleasant,” said Howard. “We may need this guy.”

The restaurant sign out front was gone. The house sat empty, majestic, in the yard. A truck was backed up to the barn, and Steve and his crew were unloading big round maple tables and antique church pews. The interior of the lobby had taken a great leap forward: the curved wall was finished, and the cornucopia stood on its pedestal, and the crew was busy setting up furniture in the dining room, which was mostly finished.

We sat on a window ledge, cooling our heels, and eventually Steve tore himself away from the unloading and walked over and said he was glad we had come, he had good news. He had spoken to the bank, and they were willing to refinance if the partnership was reorganized. The bank had suggested that he, Steve, become managing partner and that the other partners divide up a quarter interest in the property. Steve said he had argued with the bank, but they said take it or leave it, so he took it. The deal would be signed the next week if the partners didn’t come up with two hundred thousand dollars. So that was where it stood. The good news was that we could continue as partners, howbeit silent ones.

Steve recalled a time he had traveled to India, to a little village called Rajapathaparamagudi, where pilgrims in their white robes streamed up the dusty road to Dharamudram, and how he had faith then that though he was penniless he would find food and shelter, and so he had, and now he had the same faith that the place would open in the spring. He did not care to have us operate a B-and-B in the house.

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