A taste of freedom

Surveying the line

 “Noah, can you park alongside Lemon Steroids? I want to take a picture of both cars together.”

Noah slowly and carefully drew up alongside Lemon Steroids, which, in our absence, had been moved around to the back of the house and parked outside a long, oak framed, multi-bay, out-building with a cedar shingle roof that clearly served as both a garage and storage area for the house.

“Noah, Nat, stand between the cars. Yes, that’s good. Lean on them. Cheese!”

That’s going to make a great picture for my album. I might email it to Mandy too. She already likes Nat – ‘Foxy Boy’ as she calls him, now she’ll get to see Noah too. He’s kind of like, sultry? Is that the right description? No wonder Travis’s sister fancies him. I would do too if I didn’t already have Nat. I guess the main difference is that Nat fancies me too, whereas Noah doesn’t. I mean, Noah does like me, but just like Shane does. As a friend. And Noah likes stuff tidy too. All in order. Yes, he can piss me off at times when he answers the question I asked him, instead of giving me the answer I am sure he knows I am looking for, but that’s okay. His brain is wired that way.

“Boots are you going to take all day with that picture? Me and Noah are dying of thirst over here…”

“Sorry Nat, just done.”

Noah smiled. “I can get us some juice when we go inside, Nat.”

“Grab your bag from the trunk, Boots, let’s let Noah show us where we will be staying. We appreciate this Noah, it’s great to stay in a proper house again instead of a hotel room.”

Noah smiled and waited as me and Nat grabbed our bags from Lemon Steroids. I’m using my cadet bergen but Nat has a real nice leather holdall as his travel bag. Hand tooled, fine grain calf leather from Italy. Dead smart. Smells nice too. Maybe one day I’ll get one of those. I mean, my olive drab, Cordura bergen is practical, and holds loads of stuff, rugged as hell too. But well, Nat’s bag oozes class. Not everything has to be totally practical, does it?

We followed Noah across the gravel turning circle and in through a back door of his house. Inside was a light and airy room, with some neat shelves around the doorway for footwear and hangers over what looked like a central heating pipe for drying out bad weather clothing. Noah led the way across the room and through another door which opened out into a big hallway that was clearly the main entrance into the house from the front. A couple of pale green silk Ottoman style chaise-longues lined two of the walls and a flight of ornate stairs curved upwards to the first floor.

“Nice house, Noah.”

“Thanks, Boots. It’s nearly two hundred years old.”

“Who are those guys on the picture, Noah?”

Nat smirked but said nothing. Noah hesitated a second, then beamed with pride when he realised I was genuinely interested. “Those are some of my ancestors, Boots. One of the very early photographs taken here in America. The man in the middle, with the beard and bowler hat, is the grandson of Charles Mason. The other, younger men are his sons. They are my ancestors.”

Nat couldn’t resist smiling as he saw me trying to make the connection that Noah obviously expected me to make.

“Noah is just about the nearest thing we have to royalty here in Pennsylvania, Boots. A scion of Charles Mason. The Mason-Dixon Line?”

What the foxtrot echo? I mean, I’ve heard of the Mason-Dixon line. The boundary that separates the North and South. Unionist and Confederates. Well, it existed before then. Something to do with the King not being happy with the colonial surveyors and sending out his own best men, one of them from the Royal Observatory, to do the job properly. Worked out where Pennsylvania ended and Maryland began. That sort of thing.  There’s even a Mark Knopfler song about them. Best guitar stuff ever.

“He calls me Charlie Mason
A stargazer am I,
It seems that I was born
To chart the evening sky.
They'd cut me out for baking bread
But I had other dreams instead,
This baker's boy from the west country
Would join the Royal Society.

We are sailing to Philadelphia
A world away from the coaly Tyne,
Sailing to Philadelphia
To draw the line,
A Mason-Dixon Line”

Noah smiled as Nat grinned and then put his arm around my shoulder.

“I told you he was nuts, Noah, always bursting out into song for no reason,” said Nat. “He was doing it as we flew over Pittsburgh in the helicopter. Pet Shop Boy stuff.”

Noah smiled at me, ignoring Natters. “That’s him, Boots. Charles Mason. He drew star maps.”

* * *

Me and Nat have been given a big room in the east wing with two double beds in it, just along from Noah’s room. From the landing where the stairs lead, there’s Noah’s room, then a room belonging to his older brother, Jacob, who’s apparently away at Princeton at the moment, which is like one of America’s big prestige universities, then this room. It’s not quite as big as Nat’s bedroom, but not far off. About a million times bigger than my bedroom though.

“We should get a shower to freshen up, Boots, then join Noah again and let him take us down for dinner. I need a shower; I think I’m covered with bugs and caterpillars and stuff from out in the vineyard. Everything seemed to want to crawl all over me. No, Boots, don’t you dare!!!”

Like I’m not going to sing that one!

“Flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker, flicker
Here you are
Cata-cata-cata-cata-cata-cata-cata-cata
Caterpillar girl
Flowing in and filling up my hopeless heart
Oh, never, never go

Oh, I'll dust my lemon lies
With powder, pink and sweet
The day I stop is the day you change
And fly away from me. You flicker and you're beautiful
You glow inside my head
You hold me hypnotized, I'm mesmerized
Your flames, the flames that kiss me dead”

“Boots!”

“Gotcha, Nat!”

Nat doesn’t struggle too hard when I push him back onto the bed. Just enough for show. Like on the day back at college, Parents’ Day, when he pranked me with the jammers and I chased him into the changing rooms and kissed him. That was like our first day together, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.

“Boots, let me go. Noah will be waiting for us soon.”

“Noah will be fine, Nat. He got his parents to put us in a shared room, didn’t he?”

* * *

“Don’t fret it, Boots. Your tie is straight. Come in, let’s go knock on Noah’s door and head down to dinner. You don’t need a tie, nobody else will be wearing one.”

I know nobody else will be wearing a tie. But I will be. It’s hard enough not to wear a jacket. Dad always says it’s best to be dressed one step up from everyone else. I’d love to be wearing my dinner jacket tonight. Prince Philip would approve. Even if he was dressed like a scruff the first time I met him. When dad was serving as his equerry up at Balmoral.  A very classy scruff though. Worn out Barbour jacket and a flat cap that had seen better days.  I was down in the kitchens trying to scrounge a snack and Prince Philip came in to hand over a couple of grouse he’d shot and to check on that evening’s menu. I thought he was a gamekeeper at first. He was dead polite though. Asked me who I was and didn’t seem the least bit annoyed when I didn’t recognise him right away. I soon did though. Maybe he remembered me when he got asked about if it was okay for me to wear the gold AMRC insignia on my cadet uniform.

“Boots!”

“Okay Nat, okay. I’m ready.”

* * *

“This is really nice, Mrs Mason, some of the best tomato bruschetta I think I’ve ever had. We used to get it as a starter at Allegheny, didn’t we Noah, but not as good as this.”

“Why thank you, Craig, that’s so nice of you to say, but please, call me Helena. We grow the tomatoes ourselves, just a little row of course, alongside the vines. Noah has told us a lot about you, he says you were a big influence on the dormitory he was in last year. And also you have connections to the Queen?  You arranged for one of your room mates, Shane – such an adorable boy, we met him and his older brother Kyle last term – to visit the Tower of London privately. Isn’t that right?”

Nat’s glaring at me. He wants me to say the right thing.

“Err, yes, that’s right, Mrs Mason, err, Helena. Shane and his parents, they’re at the State Department you know, came to London and invited me to stay with them. My dad arranged for us to go to the Ceremony of the Keys. That’s where they lock the gates to the Tower every night. Keep the Queen’s jewellery safe.”

I think I said the right thing. Nat is looking relaxed. Noah is just eating his bruschetta. Bloody hell, he looks so cute. He just kind of switches off and goes into his own private world. Nothing bothers him.

“Why, that is so charming, Craig. And Nathan, we saw you on tv a few nights ago, playing at the July 4th celebration in Pittsburgh with your sister, Elizabeth. Wasn’t that you too, Craig, singing with Elizabeth?”

“Err, yes, kind of, Mrs, err, Helena, Elizabeth was better though. She sort of pushed me into it.”

“Well, it looked and sounded very good, didn’t it, Todd?”

Nat laughed and interrupted before Noah’s dad could say anything. “Craig loves to sing, don’t you Craig? Always bursting out with something, usually totally inappropriate…”

“Do not, Natters!”

“He doesn’t, mom,” said Noah, unexpectedly. “Just sings what he loves.”

Noah’s parents smiled at each other. “And you, Nat, what do you plan to do when you finish college?”

“I’m hoping to go to the Juilliard, ma’am, if my pop will let me. Study music and performing arts. But maybe I’ll join the National Guard too, if they’ll let me. That’s down to Craig. Give something back to this country.”

“That’s so noble, Nathan, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Noah’s dad, Todd.

Does Nathan really mean that? Or is he still playing politics? I’d love to think he means it. Why would he play politics here? We are all friends round this table. I really do think he means it. What was it dad said? “Trust your heart, Craig.”

* * *

Noah and his mom cleared our plates away and then served our main course, grilled sea bass with roast potatoes, tomatoes and green beans. Noah’s dad, Todd, poured us each a small glass of white wine and smiled. “Just for scientific research, boys. I understand, Nathan and Craig, your parents won’t object.”

 I smirked. “My dad might prefer me to be drinking beer, Todd, but wine is fine. For science, obviously…”

“It’s one of our heritage whites, Boots,” said Noah.

I took a small sip of the wine, chilled, no doubt, to the perfect temperature. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t strong. The flavour was, well, sort of subtle. Kind of like, well, it’s hard to say. There was definitely like a hint of peach in it. Not strong and sweet. Just like an acerbic, nutty taste. The sort of taste that makes you want to take another sip. To double check that you got it right first time.

“Bloody Hell, Noah, this tastes nice.  Not like supermarket stuff. But why do you call it your ‘Heritage wine’?”

Nat’s smiling at me. Approving.

Todd smiled and took a sip from his own glass, then began to speak. “The grapes we make this wine from, our signature wine, are descended from stock believed to have been brought over from Europe by William Penn himself and crossed with indigenous vines. It’s an old wilding, maybe even one of William Penn’s very first, unintentional crosses between Bordeaux vines and the native species here.  We’ve had DNA analysis done on the root stock to try and confirm its origins. It’s definitely ancient, and partly from Bordeaux.”

Nat smiled. “I can see why you say ‘Keeping the line’ on your marketing, Todd,” said Nathan. “Awesome branding.”

I took another sip of my wine. I don’t think it’s just marketing. It’s deeper than that. I don’t know a lot about wine. To me, it just tastes good. Kind of subtle. Not kicking your taste buds in. Kind of creeping up on you and saying ‘I’m good.’ Really works well with this sea bass. Noah’s mum has pulle dit off to perfection. Got the skin crispy, but the flesh still soft and juicy.

Todd walked over to the counter and poured a small amount of wine, another white, from an opened bottle. “Try a sip of this, Craig. Tell me what you think.”

The new wine was sweeter, with a kind of fruity flavour. It’s nice, but I preferred the first stuff.

“It’s good, Todd, like the kind we get at home. The sort of stuff my mum likes. I think I actually preferred the first one though”

Noah beamed. “The second wine is just our standard white, Boots. A Pinot Gris varietal. We make hundreds of barrels of it every year. It’s good, but nothing like the heritage wine.”

Helena was smiling. “The difference is mainly down to soils, hand crafting, and careful blending. Very labor intensive.”

“Not to mention about $170 dollars margin per bottle,” added Todd with a smile.

I was about to say something, I’m not sure what, but I was definitely going to say something. $170 for a bottle of wine! And that’s just the profit! Nat beat me to it.

“I guess that’s part of the reasoning for hand tending the old vines, building up the brand, making it stand out as a premium product,” said Nat, savouring the small amount of wine in his glass like an expert. “I guess with modern machinery and cultivation practices it would be possible to grow those old grapes on all your land, but then it would lose its cachet.”

Todd nodded and grinned at Nat. “Sure would. Makes more sense to keep it small, restrict supply, make it desirable. We increase our acreage slowly as the market builds, but always keep it lagging demand.”

“It sets a marker for our standard wines too,” added Helena. “Everyone knows that if our heritage wine is good, the rest of our output is going to be good too, lets us sell that at an additional price premium over the competitors’ products. Now, who is ready for dessert?”

Dessert was good, a big slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream. I don’t think it was shop bought either.

“Now, boys, what plans do you have for tomorrow?” asked Todd.

“I don’t rightly think we have any solid plans, Sir,” said Nat. “I was basically thinking we could head over to Philly tomorrow and I could show Craig around. I’ve been there with pop a fair few times, so I know all the main places to go, but maybe you would like to suggest some ideas for us? Noah, would you like to come with us too? Be our guide? I’m sure you know it better than I do.”

Noah smiled as he looked up from his last spoonful of ice cream.

“We have a vineyard tour coming round tomorrow, Nat. I help pop out on tours now.”

Todd smiled proudly. “He sure does, Nathan. Puts me in my place too when I forget to mention something at the right point in the day. You’ve always accompanied me on tours, haven’t you Noah, but this summer is the first time you have started speaking directly to the visitors. I reckon that’s down to you and Allegheny in no small part, Nat.”

Noah smiled a little but didn’t otherwise respond to the comment.

“Nat and Craig might need you more tomorrow, Noah,” said Todd. “I’ll be able to do the visitor tour okay tomorrow, I’ll just spend a little extra time brushing up on my notes before the coach arrives. If you’d like to go and spend the day in Philly, that’s fine with me. Make sure you bring them back safe though.”

“I can do that,” said Noah. “Maybe we can pass by Valley Forge, then head on into Philly, see the Art Museum, The Liberty Bell, the Penn Archaeology Museum – you’ll like that, Nat, the Fireman’s Hall Museum, the Seaport Museum…”

“That’s us settled then,” said Nat. “We’ll head into Philly tomorrow and show Craig around. We’ll be good with Noah in charge. We might even need two days to see all those things.”

* * *

After dinner me and Nat followed Noah up to his room. Spread across his desk by the window was a large sheet of paper, really thick, creamy, heavyweight paper, that he had started drawing on. At its centre was a pencil sketch of me and Nat working on the vines out in their vineyard. To one corner was a picture of Lemon Steroids and Noah’s Beetle parked together outside the garage.

“I started it before dinner, when you two were getting changed, Boots. I will finish the other corners when we get back from Philly. It’s for Ella-Marie. I always draw her a picture every week, showing what I have been doing. Send it to her by post. Then she phones me to ask about it. She keeps them all in a big book.”

That’s perfect! I can just imagine Travis’s sister getting the picture, seeing what Noah has been doing, then phoning him to ask about the details. Noah would be much better at that than if he had to phone her and tell her stuff from scratch.

“Noah, do you mind if I call Will?” asked Nat. “I promised to get in touch while Craig was with me. Just for a quick Board meeting of our company.”

“That’s okay, Nat,” said Noah. “Will was here just a week ago. He stayed for a few days. We went to see the Wings train. He’s set me up a screen, you can use it to talk to him.” Noah pointed to a large flat screen, maybe 48” across, over to one side of the bedroom with a couple of chairs near it. “He’s on my speed dial list. Turn on that laptop there. We chat about tactics and how we are going to build up the lacrosse team next season.”

Nat smiled. “Noah and Will both got themselves elected to the Lacrosse Club Committee for next season, Boots. Jackson nominated them.”

“I didn’t know Jackson was in the Lacrosse Club, Nat.”

“He wasn’t,” grinned Nat, “But when he turned up at the end of season meeting last semester to thank them for helping deliver a Golden Year and nominated them for positions on the new committee, nobody objected.”

* * *

“Hi Will, how are you? I have Craig with me, Noah too.”

“Hi Nat. I thought I recognised the room, you’re at Noah’s place, right? How you doing Noah?”

Noah leaned further into the camera view and nodded to Will. “Hi Will, I’m good. I’ll just keep quiet in the background to let you have your meeting.”

Will smiled at us from the screen as he settled back in a big leather chair. “Okay guys, let’s keep this short so we don’t intrude on Noah too much. Can’t wait to get together again at college in the Fall, Noah. Now, as President, I call this Board meeting to order. For the record, present are myself, Nathan Bauer and Craig Wright.”

Nat and I exchanged glances and smiled. Will likes starting things formally. I guess he can, it’s his company.

“Craig; Nat and I had an online meeting last week before you got here. Decided what we want to do next, so this is to bring you up to date and get your buy in. And hear any ideas you might have. Mr Vice President, can you start with the financial report? It’s good, Boots.”

Nat smiled and cleared his throat before looking directly at the camera and Will. “The company finances are in good order. I’ll give Craig a printed summary of the accounts we discussed to read later, but the key points are simple. First, Will delivered our third - and biggest - coverage survey to Three Rivers Telecom and it was well received. Their payment has cleared in the bank and we now have a total income this year of three-seventy-five thousand dollars.”

$375,000? Am I hearing Nat right? Will’s just banked $375,000 for his company? Okay, so that’s including the earlier payments, but $375,000 is still $375,000! That’s a fortune. And we’re all still at school. I get 5% of that! So that makes me $18,750! No, actually it doesn’t. I only get 5% of the profits. So less than that. There are costs to take out. Money to put aside for a cash reserve for a rainy day. Then the ‘operating fund’ as Nat called it. And taxes and stuff. Will I have to start paying taxes? I got $1,250 dollars as my share at the last accounting quarter. I haven’t spent any of that yet. It’s gone in my saving fund for when I leave school. This quarter sounds like we have done better. I might get a couple of thousands after costs and stuff. I’ll buy mom something though, not save it all.

“Boots?” Nat’s just snapped his fingers in my face.

“Sorry, Nat, I was just thinking.”

Will laughed. “I know, I can hear the gears grinding and smell the elastic bands burning from here. Dreaming of spending your profits?”

Nat’s laughing too. “Don’t dream too hard just yet, Boots. We have costs to pay and investments to make. Though the second key point in my Financial Report is that costs are well controlled. Apart from some more computer hardware for Will, we haven’t spent much – we’ve been living off the survey data we got for free. A few legal and accounting fees, and your flight upgrades to come to this meeting, are about all we have spent. Will and I are proposing we only take out $25,000 for our shared earnings, just like last time. So, you’ll get $1,250 again, if you’re happy with that. Keep all the rest in the bank as our operating fund. Life in future could get tougher, we’ve picked the low hanging fruit.”

Another $1,250? I can go with that. It’s not like I’ve actually had to do a lot to earn it. Basically, nothing at all. Just had the original smart idea. Like Nat said, low hanging fruit. Dad was right about taking a share in the company instead of a one-off payment.

“l’ll agree to that, Will, Nat.”

“Third key point, is that we need to think how to use or invest our operating fund. We struck lucky in getting the survey data for free from Travis’s plane but now we have just about exhausted all we can do with that, for Three Rivers Telecom at least. We need to find a new customer if we want to exploit that data further.”

“That’s your job, Nat,” smiled Will.

“I’ve got some ideas I’m working on,” said Nat. “And it’s not like we’re in a rush. We don’t actually need the money do we?”

“Noah, did you say Travis and his whole family were coming to visit you before the start of the next college year?”

Noah looked up from his desk where he was back working on his picture. “Yes, Boots. Just a few weeks away from now.”

“Are they flying in? In their own plane? Or taking a commercial flight?”

“Their own plane, Boots. Travis’s pop and my pop were talking about doing a survey of our land when they are here. They said it could highlight the best growth zones, where we need to improve drainage, add fertilisers more accurately. Reduce how much we use. Maybe even go organic. That kind of stuff.”

“And you said you had seven vineyards, Noah?”

“Yes Boots, spread all around here, and some counties further north.”

Nat and Will are looking at me. Trying to figure out where this is going.

“Guys, I have had a thought. If Travis’s pop is going to be flying here, and doing a vineyard survey, he’ll have the cameras fitted, right? So maybe if we ask nice, he’ll let us have some new data. Could we even pay for it, Nat? That would be an operating cost, wouldn’t it? We could actually commission some new survey data. If we can afford it. What’s it cost per hour to do a survey? Can we find that out? Maybe book a few hours?”

“I can ask that,” said Nat quickly. “That’s business development. It comes under my job.”

Will was nodding eagerly. “Yes, Nat, but don’t forget, I know Travis’s pop real well. Helped do some surveys when we visited them, didn’t I Noah? Might be best if I ask. You can work on the detail after. Do a contract or stuff.”

“Maybe split the costs with Noah’s pop,” said Nat, his brain racing. “We both get a lower cost per hour by sharing, and Travis’s pop doesn’t have wasted time flying between the different vineyards. He’s hoovering up data in transit for us. We all win.”

“Leveraging relationships and assets,” smiled Noah form his desk. “That was in chapter 17 of our economics text book last semester.”

 “Will…”

“Yes, Craig?” asked Will.

“If you ask, can you see if Travis’ pop will let us add a couple of phones linked to a laptop in the plane too? Use them to log signal coverage, see where it’s already good and where it’s weak. Can you write some scripts or stuff to read signal strength from the phones and plot it against the GPS position, Will?  Even identify who the providers are? That’ll help Nat target potential new customers. It’s called SigInt. Signals Intelligence. We can get Travis’s plane acting like our very own Rivet Joint.”

“What? Rivet Joint? What’s that, Boots?”

“I’ll tell you later, Nat. Will, could you do some scripts like that, or is it way too hard?”

* * *