The beginning of Chapter 28

The first three paragraphs of Chapter 28, "High Acres, A Holiday Inn"

Visiting High Acres was not for the faint of heart.  Although it was a great place to relax and get away from it all, Daddy always wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of.  He loved High Acres and loved nothing more than to share it with friends and family, making sure everyone had a great time. And this would start with Bloody Mary's as soon as you rolled out of bed ('Hair of the Dog' as Daddy called them) and the consumption of libations continued throughout the day until bedtime. 

Regular guests learned early to pace themselves, lest they suffer undue bodily harm. It was not unusual to have someone fall off a horse when the horse was standing still or, worse yet, fall off the back deck and roll down the mountain through the apple orchard. Yes, it happened more than once but we would always send the jeep to procure them. 

Daddy had this, apparently, God-given talent to be able to drink all day and rarely get drunk. There were a few people who had the reputation of keeping up with him and that reputation preceded them. Every guest may as well have accepted the fact that there was going to be at least one great embarrassing story at their expense. It was a rite of passage and most guests took it in stride. Heck, some took pride in Daddy’s recount of whatever mishap they had suffered earlier, almost as if it were a badge of honor. And if they couldn't handle it, probably they would never feel comfortable returning. But then chances were they would not be invited back. 

While most guests . . .(The story continues when the book is published)

A Few Paragraphs From Chapter 21

Chapter 21, Our House on High Acres

From Chapter 21, "Our House at High Acres"

When my parents bought High Acres, the farm in the mountains of North Carolina, they immediately wanted to build a house on it. The location was not an issue. The house site offered a 360-degree view of hills and valleys that included three states. Although the sunsets were spectacular, the winds could also be quite stiff at times. But my parents had their heart set on putting their house on top of that hill. Stanbury, the farm overseer, just stood there, scratched his head, put his cap back on, and said, "Warll, we'll have to nail the shingles on real tight."

Now my mother, being very practical, found a grand old 

Victorian house in our home town they were razing to make room for a bank. She took it upon herself to purchase the home and have the company that was tearing it down number the pieces (that is the windows, the staircase, the doors, doorways, arches, mantles, and any other architectural pieces worth saving). Then she informed my father that it was up to him to get it transported to the farm. My father's response was, "Then what?" 

"We'll use the pieces to build the house," was my mother's 

reply.

So the numbered pieces were loaded and transported up to the There was the ornate archway leading into the great room which had all the windows stacked on the floor. Perhaps, I thought, it was going to take some time to come together. I could tell by the look on my mother's face this was not what she had in mind.

"Where are my white columns?" my mother asked quietly. My father pulled her aside for a conference, where he explained that due to the exact location she had chosen to build, unless they had done some very expensive excavation, which was not in the 

budget, the footprint of the house was relegated to its square shape. "But, it's so plain", she said. 

"It just looks that way now", my father assured her. "We just got started. Give it some time."

A month or so later  . . . .

(and the story continues, soon to be published, "Sterling Silver and Dollar Stores")