Read Online Dog Bless You by Neil S. Plakcy - Free Book Online Page A

and had overcome the brief interruption
provided by the California penal system to resume my lifelong pattern by
falling into my jobs at Eastern.
    It seemed Lili had deliberately made herself into the
person she was, while I had simply taken what came to me. In her view, at
least, I was continuing in that same pattern by accepting the job at Friar
Lake. Could she accept that I was that kind of guy—or would she give up on me
the way Mary had?
    Those were troubling questions so early in the morning.
I was glad that I had a meeting scheduled with Joe Capodilupo, the director of
physical plant for Eastern, so I could avoid considering them. I left Rochester
snoozing in my office when I walked over to meet with Joe.
    His department was headquartered in a converted
carriage house at the back of the Eastern campus, near the road that led down
to Friar Lake. The quaint stone and shingle exterior was a contrast to the
bland efficiency of the inside. To the left, beyond a receptionist’s desk, was
a series of cubicles and one big office. Tall metal storage cabinets lined the
other wall. From the ones with open doors, I could see they were used to store some
of the equipment that kept the campus humming.
    There were nearly twenty buildings at Eastern, from the
original stone ones like Fields Hall and the carriage house to the 1960s-era dormitories
like Birthday House and the brand new, pill-bottle-shaped Granger Hall, donated
by a pharmaceutical magnate, which housed the visual and performing arts. Every
building had its own maintenance issues, and Joe supervised a team of
engineers, plumbers, handymen and groundskeepers. It was a function of the
college that students took for granted—until a toilet leaked, a cockroach was
spotted or a boiler failed on a cold winter day.
    Joe was a gruff, heavyset guy with white hair and a
white beard, and he looked like he’d have been at home with the Benedictines if
you slapped one of those black robes on him. He had already been involved in
hiring the architect to do the drawings I’d seen, and had a contractor ready to
get started as soon as the permits were approved. He was going to handle the
actual renovation process.
    We stood beside a broad plan table in his office and Joe
began to go over the large-sized version of the drawings I’d seen in Babson’s
report. “The whole property’s going to need to be rewired,” he said. “Right now
it’s a firetrap, with frayed wiring, places the squirrels have chewed through,
missing outlet covers. We have to bring the place up to code with sprinklers,
fire alarms, emergency exits, and handicap access. And the kitchen needs to
come out. The appliances there come from the year dot.”
    I laughed. “My dad used to use that expression.”
    He turned to a color-coded schedule hung on the wall
next to the plan desk.
    “Once we have the permits, we start with demolition.
We’ll knock out anything that isn’t going to stay, move on to structural
reinforcement, then MEP-- mechanical, electrical and plumbing. After that we
slap on the drywall, spackle and sand, install the light fixtures and all the
other little crap. Then we paint and carpet and bring in the furniture. We’re
aiming to open right after graduation next May.”
    “That’s almost a year. What am I supposed to do while
all that work is going on?”
    “Oh, there’ll be plenty for you,” he said. “I’m only
handling the physical renovation to the building. You’re going to have to get a
designer to source all the furnishings and décor.”
    My brain was reeling as I walked back to Fields Hall. It
was almost lunchtime, so when I got back to my office I took Rochester out for
a walk downhill to where the lunch trucks clustered along Main Street. I got a
double-patty bacon cheeseburger and fries, ignoring the potential for
cholesterol overload, and sat down on the side of a concrete planter to eat,
Rochester on his haunches next to me.
    I pulled out the extra burger and fed it to