Forgiveness

Susan was flying up on a Friday morning and staying through Sunday. Katie and I went to pick her up at the airport, but not before the four of us had another long talk. This one was no less passionate, but the undertones of anger were gone. Still there was tension in the air, especially from Leah and Melinda. They decided to stay home instead of going to the airport with us.

We were waiting when Susan came down the jetway. She looked . . . tired. I don't know if that's the right word, but Katie's mom seemed worried and haggard. I gave her a friendly hug and Katie put her arm around her mom and never seemed to let go. I drove and Katie sat in the backseat of our hybrid Camry. We gave her the grand tour of Asheville and then drove out to the house.

I noticed Susan fidgeting more and more as we got closer. When we pulled into the driveway, I smiled to myself as I saw Susan's eyes get wide.

She didn't fully understand how successful we were until that moment and that made me feel a little smug. Yeah, I know it's petty. So sue me.

When we still lived in Jacksonville, we made a fair amount of money flipping houses. We invested that money in the mid-90s dot-com boom, then right before that bubble burst, we went back into real estate when we moved to North Carolina. We got in at the ground stage and invested in a couple of the vacation communities that have sprung up around town. After Bryan and the twins came along, we sold off everything except the house where we live now and got out of the speculation markets.

Sure we could have stayed in for a few more years, but then I figure we'd have lost a bunch of money in the subprime mess that sent everyone's investments in the tank. As things stand now, most of our assets are locked up in low-risk bonds. We don't make a lot of money, but we don't need to, either.

Melinda, Leah and Katie all work full-time and since we don't have any real debt—the house and cars are paid off—we can maintain our lifestyle on any two of their salaries. The third income is essentially our rainy-day fund.

When the quads were born, we built a huge addition on the back side of the house that added four more bedrooms and another play room. That doesn't include the two master suites and four bedrooms for the kids that were already in the house. Or the guest house/woodworking shop/painting studio/car garage that's out back. And the pool.

At the rate we've been building, I figure it won't be long before our house rivals the Grove Park Inn once we add a golf course and spa.

The way I see it, playing the stock market and investing in real estate is basically legalised gambling. You can make money or you can lose money in either. Now that the four of us are sitting on a small fortune, we don't have the luxury of risk. Not with eight kids to provide for. All of our shared accounts are dedicated to maintaining our lifestyle and steering clear of financial trouble.

On the side, I do some speculating, but that's with "my" money. Each of us has a separate account that is no one else's business. In essence, once all the bills are paid we each have an allowance. I collect Star Wars action figures, muscle cars (ask me about my '65 Corvette Roadster and '70 Chevelle SS sometime) and I invest in the stock market.

Leah pours most of her money into her art studio. She used to be a full-time anchor and reporter for one of the local TV stations, but cut back on her work once the kids started growing up. She only works part time now, just appearing on the 6:00 news. She's also a painter of some local repute, and does very well in Asheville's thriving art scene. With her money, she co-owns a gallery showcasing up and coming young artists from the area.

Katie has a gazillion Longaberger baskets and a thing for shoes. Of the four of us, Katie works the most. A veterinarian by trade, she operates an animal clinic that has another vet, two animal nurses and a couple of clerical workers on staff. There have been some years when the clinic didn't turn a profit, but that's not why she does it.

Melinda likes to travel, seeking inspiration for her writing. Most of the time, she'll take one or more of us along, but sometimes she likes to go someplace by herself. She started up a small business that develops young writers and tries to get them published, both in print and on the Interwebs. Plus, she's a bestselling author of trashy romance novels that she writes under a pseudonym.

So to say that our home is worth more than the combined values of all of our parents's houses is a little bit of an understatement.

I pulled into the main garage and Katie led her mother into the house. She got the 10 minute walkaround and I took her things to the guest suite.

The younger kids were down for their naps and the older kids were still at school. Mrs. Harris gave Susan a warm, welcoming hug, and I think Katie's mom was relieved that there was someone in the house who didn't want her dead.

We made some small talk, but at some point, Leah and Melinda got Susan on their own in the basement. There were tears in Katie's eyes, but we both knew our other two wives needed to say their peace or they would just stew all weekend.

"They're only doing this because they love you," I tried to tell her, but Katie didn't want to hear it. I don't blame her for being upset, but I also understood why Leah and Melinda were so angry.

A little while later, all three came upstairs, which was a good thing. Of course, it might also mean that Leah was plotting to kill Susan in her sleep.

Katie's mom didn't say a word to me. She looked beaten down and tired, although I think in an odd way, she may have been a bit relieved as well. She and Katie went out to the back deck to talk.

Leah stalked off to her art studio and didn't come out until the kids got home from school.

Melinda and I stood in the kitchen, not speaking. She poured herself a generous helping of wine.

"She sat there and took it." My wife answered my unasked question. "Leah and I unloaded on her with both barrels and she took her lumps. She didn't try to defend herself or justify anything she had done. All she did was say that she was sorry."

"Do you feel better?"

"A part of me does," Melinda sighed. "But about half way through, I realised that she really does regret missing out on all these years. I think she gets it."

"So Susan is going to make it home?"

"I can't guarantee that," Melinda smirked. I could tell that things were going to be okay. Maybe not today, but soon. "If she disappears and Leah and I have to take a road trip for a couple of hours, don't come looking for us."

"Just make sure you leave your phones here so the GPS locators don't give you away."

I took my wife in my arms and held her for a long time. I thought about going out to see Leah, but I've known her since middle school, and I didn't want her to throw anything at me.

The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. Melinda and Susan seemed to make a kind of peace between them. Leah and Susan at least came to a truce, although the two would never be close.

The kids accepted their new grandmother without question, although when she was in middle school, Kaylee asked why Susan had been absent from their lives for so long.

I don't know that Susan truly accepted or approved of our lifestyle, but she never said anything to me or the kids about it, and she was present for her daughter and grandchildren until her death several decades later.

When that weekend was over, the four of us had another conversation, although this one was much more subdued and less aggressive than our blowout fight a couple of weeks earlier.

And then we got to have four-way make-up sex.

Despite all of life's twists and turns, once we got past the hurt feelings and angry words, everything is just a bump in the road on the way to Happily Ever After.