"Because fuck you, that's why," I said as I stood up from the counter and shoved my plate across the surface. "Thanks for the eggs. I appreciate you not hiring breakfast out."
"Dammit, Adam!" Bugsy shouted as I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to take a shower.
#
As usual, Bugsy and I resolved our differences through a complex mechanism of silence, peace offerings and falling back on business talk to smooth over the rough edges, and after a week of camping out in his guest bedroom, I'd gathered all the information I would need for the trip to Corner Grove.
Ten days after I’d moved in with him, I decided it was time to head out and get to work. I caught a cab to the car rental office and signed an agreement for weeklong rental of a black Mustang. Despite Bugsy's warnings about costs and keeping a low profile in Corner Grove, I figured that if he could afford to hire hookers for me, then we could also afford the cost of the car that I wanted to drive.
"What the hell, Wallace?" Bugsy yelled when I tossed the receipts for the car rental on his desk. "I told you we don't have this kind of money to be throwing around!"
"Yeah, but you had enough to rent a hooker for me?" I shot back. Bugsy said nothing as he fumed in silence for a few minutes.
"Fine, the car is it, though," he said sternly. "We seriously do not have a lot of money, Wallace. We have to conserve resources if we're going to land this deal and make it generate a profit."
"Understood, boss," I said giving him a mock salute as he handed me the paperwork for the bed and breakfast I'd be staying at in Corner Grove. "What is this? Don't they have online check in?"
"You've got to be shitting me," he said shaking his head. "You're going down to Amish country, Adam. You'll be lucky if you can find a phone down there. Forget about online check in and anything related to the modern world. Speaking of which, don't forget your phone charger."
"Oh please, I've read about the Amish in those communities, Bugsy," I said giving him a skeptical look. "They're not nearly as backward as you think they are. How the hell do you think they do business down there?"
"I think you're in for a major surprise, my friend," he said shaking his head. "But, whatever."
We spent the next hour hashing out the possible appointments I'd have over the next two weeks. Our goal was to land enough farmland to be able to install the twenty turbines, and in order to do that we'd need at least five farms to agree to sign on. I was optimistic that I could sell the technology based on what little I knew about the Amish and their way of life.
"I hope you're right about all of this," Bugsy said as he rubbed his chin.
"C'mon, man, they hate government involvement and they don't take energy from the electrical grid," I said trying to convince him I was right. "There's nothing here that says they wouldn't give it back to the grid and make some money from it. Look at all their businesses in this area! Furniture manufacturing and grocery stores, forget about the farming they do. It's gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel!"
"I hope you're right, Wallace," Bugsy repeated with a worried look.
Later that afternoon, I watched Chicago's skyline disappear in my rearview mirror as I headed down to Corner Grove. The drive down provided an interesting contrast in landscapes as the city quickly gave way to miles of lush, green farmland stretching out in front of me. I noticed the air becoming cooler the farther south I drove. Halfway to my destination, I rolled down my windows and breathed deeply, filling my lungs with clean, fresh air.
I thought about what Bugsy had said, and grudgingly admitted to myself that he might have had a point. I didn't have a good track record with women, and there had been a long line of women I'd thought I could love, but the reality was that I had never trusted any of them.
I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and stepped harder on the gas pedal, and quickly drove the thoughts from my brain. Now was not the time to be doing self-analysis about my romantic failings; I had a job to do. I chuckled as I thought about the fact that I was headed into a community largely made up of Amish people. Women were not going to be a problem there.
I arrived in town just as the light was fading. I flipped on my lights as I drove through the small town to get familiar with its layout. Corner Grove was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it towns where the stores and restaurants were centralized in a few blocks along Main Street. I quickly found the place I would be staying at the end of the strip.
"Oh, hell no," I muttered as I double-checked the address on the paperwork Bugsy had given me with the address on the front door.
I sat outside the large, white house with the meticulous garden in front and a sign hanging from the front porch that read, "Yoder's Lodgings. Doing the Lord's work since 1987." Bugsy had conveniently picked the most traditionally Amish bed and breakfast in town. I cursed him under my breath as I looked up and down along the street to see if there was a Best Western or a Holiday Inn somewhere around. When I realized that I was out of luck, I climbed the stairs and went to check in.
The desk clerk looked up from her knitting, pulled a pair of half glasses off the bridge of her nose, and let them hang around her neck on a black lanyard as she smiled warmly at me.
"Welcome! Welcome! Are you looking for lodgings?" she cheerfully inquired as she stood up and walked around the desk. She was a plump woman in a purple dress, wearing a starched white cap pulled tightly over her white hair. "If so, we've got a room for you!"
"Yes, I do need a room," I nodded. "For a couple of days."
"We can most certainly do that! I'm Mrs. Elsa Yoder," she said in a cheerful voice that put the emphasis on the Mrs. and had the hint of an accent I couldn't quite place, but knew was related to German or Dutch. "Welcome to Corner Grove."
"Hello, Mrs. Yoder," I said holding out my hand, which she ignored. "I'm Adam Wallace."
"Did you have a long drive, dear?" she asked as she looked around for my suitcase. "You don't seem to have any things, do you?"
"No, not long. It was a short drive from Chicago. My bags are out in the car," I said waving toward the street. "I'll go out and get them."
"If you like, I'll have my son, Gabe, go bring them in for you," she said with a wide smile as she gestured to me. I shook my head to discourage her from calling Gabe to get my bags, so she shrugged as she continued, "Come and let me get you registered, and then show you around our establishment, Mr. Wallace."