Dissolved Matrimony
Mr. BC dumped all shared property on the MRS and the matrimonial dissolution was complete. The properties included the family compound, the country property, and the beach house. It was an unknown sum of money set aside for upkeep of the properties and the three boys but imaginably sufficient. The country property was their bastard stepchild, bought in the early days of acquisitions but never really loved nor was there ever a certainty about whose idea its acquisition had been. She thought it was his idea and he thought it hers.
The permanent staff included one caretaker to oversee duties and one man and his lawn mower to manage the 4 acres of cut grass on the 40 acre mini estate. As the reality of expenses for a never used property began to grow on the MRS she suggested to caretaker that he fire the one man and his lawn mower and find somebody cheaper. She had put the property up for sale, was hoping to clear 2 million or so and saw a cheaper mower man, one who would not take advantage of her as this current one clearly was, as a way to save possibly 3 or 4 thousand dollars on the way to that 2 million.
The caretaker, who in the early days of the job had commented on the absurdity of expenses to Mr. BC and was told not to worry too much about it had put the idea of absurd expenses behind him, but not completely and had cut his own pay by a third long ago in hopes of easing the burden of absurdity. Furthermore, the caretaker would retire from the property and his compensation at every given chance in hopes of one, easing up on the finances and two, separating himself from this silly job with no real client or customer or boss for that matter and rarely even someone who had the time or inclination to just come out and lay by the pool or knock a few balls around the tennis court. Lets be clear, the silliness and absurdity were also balanced by the pure enjoyment of having the 40 acres almost always to himself, he was the loner this caretaker, but the announcement of every proposed sale, this current one he thought was the third one, brought him a certain amount of hope for escape, albeit combined with a be careful what you wish for wariness.
The mower man was in his ninth year of employment, had five kids, one who had been born with a brain malfunction and operated on successfully and pro bono by one of the worlds top childrens brain surgeons at Johns Hopkins, one of his last cases before retirement. Mowerman was a friend inasmuch as he represented a breathing soul who came out periodically to break the monotony of the caretakers hermetic existence. They would laugh over a beer or the occasional Percocet and the caretaker would work in the half acre of gardens while the mower man mowed for eight hours, every 10 days or so from late April to October. So he had told her no, a simple flat out no when she suggested he find another mower man. And there had been no explosion of emotion or immediate firing of caretaker. In retrospect he realized he should have seen her calm reaction as a warning. For the next morning her and the new boyfriend decided that the 100 foot stretch of bramble out front by the pond, consisting of thin spindly 15 foot trees intertwined with the vines of blackberry, poison oak and ivy, honeysuckle, mustang grapes and poison sumac must be cut clean to the ground to open up what with other obstructions would amount to 1.5 more seconds of drive by view from the road. The next week he had off and when he returned he was met with wooden stakes winding through the cut grass and a note telling him that one side of the stakes would be cut and the other side to be returned to hay.
While the caretaker was for awhile apoplectic because he would now of course have to cut mower mans pay (a kind of fuck you and your five kids and 9 years of loyalty), the mower man calmed him down, hugged him even and said all things must pass boss man, the rich are not like you and me. I never liked mowing that bumpy assed back pasture anyhow.