In November, we made our first trip to Mendoza, Argentina. This would be the perfect time to buy a piece of land and look for a winemaker. Brady had already made contract with Stephen Derencourt to be our resident enologist and advisor. Perhaps the most evasive, yet successful advisor in the wine consulting business; it was a bold approach, and costly to retain his services, but Brady being the smart businessman that he is felt he was worth his weight in gold; which is exactly what we intended to make. In addition to the wine business, Brady wanted to do some consulting of his own and Stephen promised to show him some of his trade secrets…from vine to glass. Brady had decided that a full twenty-one percent of the profits from the wineries would go back into the business as investments and then be funneled to philanthropic efforts that were yet to be determined. He placed me in charge of figuring out the most appropriate place for that.

               

I came up with what I thought was a novel idea. Similar to the approach used in social networks and network marketing, I decided to develop a sort of “ring of fire” around prayer. Women would unite in groups of seven; (as if there is any other number), and pray over the concerns of each other’s family and children. No family matter would be too big or too small. We were going to allow the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit to drive the bus. It started off small in December, and it would eventually grow nationally and then internationally. First Canada, then Russia, China, and even Malaysia. I began to have each mother pay dues at each meeting totaling $15 each month. This would allow me to hire a staff and a finance director and form a foundation. Brady had too many irons in the fire at the time anyway, so he reluctantly wavered on the idea of doing the finances for the foundation. In fact, for accounting purposes, and to be removed from IRS scrutiny, we decided to let Michael Crawford at the firm of Dixon Hughes Goodman, L.L.P handle all of our business. Brady initially had trouble relinquishing this responsibility, but hiring an expert to handle multiple lines of business and philanthropic areas finally made sense to him. He focused on his work, I focused on mine; we focused on the children, and this move allowed us the flexibility to again spend some quality time together. Lord knows, it had been a while since the word vacation was thrown around, or for that matter even mentioned at our house.

                

We had to find some time to get away soon.

                

This called for a desperate and bold move on my part…so I wrote to Dad

Dad,

It has been nearly four years since Brady and I have been on vacation. Do not worry, as the children and Brady and I are well. We just need some time to relax.

Brady finally gave the reigns to an accountant at a local firm. It has taken some time, but he has followed your advice and hired Mike Crawford at the firm of Dixon Hughes Goodman.

It is with the utmost respect that I am asking you to come to the beautiful city of Asheville, and allow 

Brady and me to slip away for a weekend. I promise there will be food in the house for Mom to cook and plenty of ice cream for you before bed. Please come soon, before I blow a head gasket! The End!

Stephanie

                

This time, I would pick our vacation spot. I wanted to go to the beach, but at the same time wanted to be close to the kids. Daufuskie Island would have to do. I went all out and rented a glorious mansion on the island for a ridiculous $4000 for the week. Money was not an object for Brady and I at this point in our life, and I needed to feel pampered. The place was called Sea Oak Manor I, and it would be our humble (yeah right!) abode for the next week.

                

Brady looked with amazement and a bit of disdain at me when we arrived, but I looked back as if to say, “I need this!”, so he let it go at that. There were enough bedrooms for a basketball team to move in for the weekend, but it mattered not. I had an evil plan to make use of every one of them. When we arrived, I called Dad to check on Liam and Isabella. They were fine, and I mentioned that I would phone often, but did not set any expectations. I needed a break!

               

The house slept thirty-two and had eight bedrooms, a pool, a card and game room, a wedding gazebo, a reunion room, and of course was an oceanfront manor. Puff Daddy would have been impressed with my selection.  The first thing that I wanted to do when I arrived was to take and dip my toes in the sand. Brady and I took a walk that evening, as he had left work after lunch that day, and we arrived about 6:00 PM. Soon we would have to find a place for a suitable meal, but I needed to feel the waves calmly caress my feet.

                

At the South Beach Marina, a Marriott property, we browsed some local shops and finally found a restaurant for the evening meal. Marshside Martha’s Café looked like a rickety old shack on the outside, but on the inside was appealing. Nothing fancy, as the outside was representative of the inside, but the food was amazing. Brady and I opted for a bowl of Shrimp Gumbo for starters. He had a local brew and I sweet tea. There is just something about Southern Sweet Tea that just hits all my buttons. Since I was away from the children and wanted to “cut loos”, I knew that Brady would apply me with some wine, Mimosas or Bloody Mary’s in the morning, but at this point I wanted the local brew of the non-alcoholic type. For dinner I had a Bone-in Pork Chop and Brady a Rib-eye. He loves steak, and is especially fond of grilling them at home on a charcoal grill. He has been working on this master craft for some time, and for some reason must have a beer in hand while grilling. Dinner was amazing, and we jetted back to the house for some rest and relaxation.

                

I took a run on the beach the next morning and when I returned Brady was still sleeping. Since it was nearly 6:00 AM, I checked his pulse, but he was still with us. He had decided to bring his typewriter along for the week, as sitting in front of the beach might give him inspiration. At this point, he was ¾ of the way finished on the first copy of each book. I suggested that he pick one to actually finish over the time spent at Sea Manor, since he had received an advance and the editor and agent would soon be wanting a copy. He decided to finish his memoir, as he thought it best represented his writing style; and since it was more fact based, it would be easier on his noodle while on vacation.

                

Brady typed away at the “machine” every morning after making me breakfast and applying me with a cheese, vegetable and fruit plate. He wrote from about 6:00 AM – 9:00 AM each morning as it was relaxing for him. He thought about work throughout the day, as that is just the way he is wired, but I would whisk him away to one of the eight bedrooms when I could see the steam rolling from his ears.

Brady was smart to put all the businesses in my name. This allowed us to apply for minority owned business grants and additionally made it easier to qualify for loans and lines of credit for our two businesses. Approximately eighty percent of our household expenses were covered under IRS rules that allowed us to deduct that revenue from our income, or gross profit, allowing a more constant and steady flow to the bottom line. We were taking in $75,000 each month, and were able to write off nearly $57,000. It still placed us in the top ten percent of income earners in the United States, but with our investments and capital gains being taxed at a paltry ten percent, we were making out like bandits. Brady also started a “Wealth Building” team at our church, and was the head of the committee. He put a plan in place to pay off the debt of the church in seven years, a biblically sound number, and based his projections on rolling 40-day periods, also significant for raising the capital to retire the debt. He was a master planner when it came to finances, and I always appreciated his counsel personally, even before we were married. Life was good.

               

At the age of forty-two, I became pregnant. God was blessing us with our first child and we had prayed for only ten fingers, ten toes and healthy. We did accomplish our goal, and Isabella was born on Mother’s Day. What a gift from God!!! Isabella Reyna was born with a full head of red hair and was healthy from day one. Brady had concerns that she or our son that would come in two years would be bipolar, but that was something that only God could control.

Liam was ironically born on Brady’s grandfathers’ birthday and just two days before his on March 5. At the time, his grandfather was ninety-two years young. Vibrant, but healthy by most concerns, Wayne Henderson Durst had been born in 1992 just before the depression in 1929. He had several brothers and sisters and all had proceeded him in death by the time he was eighty-five. Even his wife had preceded him in death seven years earlier. She had lived a full life with “Grandpap”, as we called him, but was stricken with Dementia and Alzheimer’s disease and knew mostly nobody at the time of her death. She was a strong Catholic woman and Brady and his mother, and two brothers, grew up in the Catholic Church. Brady would later learn that an intercessory to God was not necessary and joined the Baptist Church.

               

  As I am now writing about Liam and Isabella, I sit here on the veranda of the Greenbrier Resort. Isabella is now four. With respect to development, she had not and did not experience the “terrible 2’s” but did have trouble with teething. Liam on the other hand is experiencing them right now. The combination of teething and the “terrible 2’s” is about to drive me insane. Brady said he was quite the monkey in his youth, and if genetics plays any factor at all, Liam is sure to follow in his footsteps. He is climbing out of his crib, throwing food at people in restaurants, and riding a motorized John Deere tractor exempt from the consequences of his actions.

                

As I prepare Isabella for school, she is already reading at a 2^nd-grade level. She loves books and is currently into anything Barnes & Noble, including the iced Frappuccino’s, unfortunately. I can see why those in Seattle are now rich and why it has appropriately been named on the street; better known as ““5-bucks”! At the end of the day, Brady takes time to read to them a short verse from the Bible and a short story. All of fifteen minutes puts them both sound asleep, and sometimes Brady will let Isabella and Liam sleep together. Other times, Liam is ushered off to his crib, and typically crawls or climbs, rather, out of it about 5:45 AM. Luckily for me, Brady spends his free time in the morning doing a devotional from “The Leadership Bible”, and then writes a few words for a novel he is working on. If one project is not enough, he is currently working on two. A business at Mutual of Omaha, the restaurant, the personally delivery service, two books for a creative outlet, and two young children is quite the full plate I would reckon. But somehow, and thru the Grace of God, he does, indeed, handle it with grace.

               

Thankfully, I have just the restaurant and the kids. Though I do not see my parents as much as I like anymore, they attempt to come down every two weeks to see the grandchildren, and I make the trek to Roanoke via the Blue Ridge Parkway every two weeks as well.

Mom,

Isabella and Liam are growing like weeds. Liam hates haircuts and the dentist, and is ornery. He typically crawls out of his crib exactly at 5:45 AM religiously, but Brady is there to feed him breakfast. Sometimes, he invites him to the dock overlooking the lake near our home and they bang on the typewriter together. Bray is getting overwhelmed by the fact that Liam is learning everything so fast. He will soon be able to count to ten, and knows how to work an iPhone better than any of us.

Isabella is reading well and even reads to Liam before bed. They are both brushing their teeth and even FLOSSING. Hooray! Yeah, ME! Brady and I have found time to exercise and he is doing better all the time at making it home by 7:00 PM each night. Thankfully, we have a good staff at both businesses, and they are not cranking out the normal hours that a restaurant otherwise might have to. They are usually all packed up with the doors locked by 11:00 PM.

We are making a good income as you might expect, largely in part because of Brady’s financial tutelage and guidance. He is using biblical principles, and not flying by the seat of his pants either.

We will be home for Thanksgiving, and I am excited to think about our shopping excursion. I would like to suggest that we indoctrinate Isabella into the culture, but judging by the way she can order at 

Barnes & Noble and Starbucks, we may want to let the fire burn for another year.

Your loving daughter,

Stephanie

P.S., send me some sheets, as I miss the fall air…as my neighbors made me take down the clothesline L

               

                August and September is probably my favorite two months. Outside of the Thanksgiving holiday with my mother, I have come to appreciate this time of year. Dad has usually stopped running hay for the year and is/was home more often during my youth. He is now more or less a consultant for the engineering firm, and only takes jobs with a high return on investment attached to it.

                

Fall in Asheville, and especially at Biltmore Lake is beautiful. In addition to writing and spending time with Liam and Isabella, Brady has started kayaking in the morning. Typically at 4:45 AM, he has donned his wet suit and paddles for about an hour, or more correctly fifty-five minutes so that he has time to lug that thing home in five minutes before Brady begins looking for him. Oatmeal or cold cereal and fruit is usually what the three of them have for breakfast. Ever since Whole Foods came to town, we have shopped at only Whole Foods and the Ketuah Marketplace. Coffee there is reasonable, the food is 100 percent organic, and the beer, wine and cheese selection are to die for. Brady recently got a four-pack of beer from Sierra Nevada; which recently started construction on a $350 Million project in nearby Mills River, North Carolina. It will house a restaurant, golf course, two private clubs, a brewery and of course a restaurant. Located near the airport, it is sure to attract a multitude of visitors.

               

As September ushers in, it is time to go to the fair. This will be Liam’s first experience and Isabella has been twice. She likes cotton candy and fried donuts and candy bars, neither of which we let her have very often. However, this year with Liam in toe, we will have to let her indulge at the expense of the crying and fussing that would ensue otherwise. Isabella is big enough to ride rides this year, as she has just eclipsed the height and weight requirements. Liam will have to go around in circles with Brady on the carousel or something of that nature.

               

 On the first nite, we took things easy, simply allowing them to eat fries and a cheeseburger. Then we strolled thru the livestock barns and listened to all the sounds and saw all the sights that are associated with the farm. This was Tuesday nite. Mom and Dad were coming for Friday and Saturday night, so I needed Wednesday and Thursday to put on my “French Maids” outfit and clean our humble abode. With our bedroom being on the first floor, mother and father would have the kids and the upstairs to themselves. While it was tradition for Brady, he allowed my father to do the honours on Friday and Saturday nite, as chief storyteller. Dad has many a story and takes a different approach, telling stories from his past and childhood. As I lay in bed, I could quietly hear Dad telling a story, and mother and the children laughing until their little bellies were rolling like jellybeans in a jar.

                

I have been amazed that we haven’t had any major traumatic events to this point. Liam was colic as a young boy, and once or twice Isabella became ill with the flu, but we had escaped pneumonia and massive amounts of vomiting or the passing of blood. I laid awake for the longest time that evening and Brady and I talked about how blessed we were to have Mom and Dad and the children. “Would they always be this happy”, I thought? I knew the answer, but shielded myself from the natural outcome that would imminently come into my little pea brain. After all, Brady was the head of household and the real brains of the operation.

                

Brady finished his first book that year in November. It was just before the Thanksgiving holiday and he had hoped to have it on the bookshelves for the Christmas holiday. He had found an agent and received an advance of $25,000. We thought this to be more than reasonable, as this was his first attempt as a novelist. He was happy with the extra income that month, and donated all of the proceeds to the Autism Foundation and the Wealth Building Team at the Church. In the four years that Isabella had been alive, they had already retired 5/8th s of the debt owed. They were ahead of schedule, but decided that no matter what, the debt would not be repaid except within the parameters of the 7^th year.

                

The restaurant was doing better than expected, and from all sources of income, we were tithing twenty-one percent of our income to missions at Trinity Baptist Church. A multiple of three and seven, Brady had come to the conclusion that this was the perfect number. We saved an additional nineteen percent by funding our IRAs, 401k's, the Keogh’s for the businesses and then an additional amount went into life insurance and investments each month. Brady wanted to raise $2 Million for his vines.

My 40’s

                We were only in Asheville a few months when I hit the 40-milestone. While depressing, I look at people like Cindy Crawford, Jennifer Aniston and others, and I can see why folks say that “40 is the new 30”. I have even ordered Meaningful Beauty, have found a new stylist in Grady Parham on a recommendation from Mike’s wife, Joy. Brady began to flourish right away in the business and made over $30,000 in the first six months. This qualified us for a trip with all expenses paid to Paris in March, just after his birthday on the 7^th. We decided we would open the restaurant in April and the personal delivery business in August. Additionally, Brady and I vowed to give ourselves a few years to enjoy our marriage, each other, develop a stronger bond between ourselves and God, and TRAVEL!

                Asheville has much to offer in the way of food, so we began having “date nite” each Friday to begin to see how we could be different. Our concept was different, but we needed our food to be also. We began search for a chef. While Brady insisted that he come by the restaurant each nite at 5:30 PM, I also made him promise that he would be on the front steps of 377 Quill Gordon Court by 7. He reluctantly agreed, but did so knowing that he need to grow his financial planning firm thru Mutual of Omaha. The Oracle might come into town and request Brady to manage a few billion. One can dream, right?

                March came quickly and we boarded a plane going to JFK in New York and then on to Paris, France. I imagined eating the fresh pastries, drinking espresso in Palazzos throughout the city. It is the “City of Lights” after all, and I would have to do all the tourist attractions as well. There was the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower and of course the food and wine. This is where we would find Michelin Star chefs and wines that date back to the 1800's. I dreamed of drinking Sauternes with dessert and watching Brady enjoy a nitecap of Navan with a Cohiba cigar from the balcony of our hotel. Brady would have to attend a few meetings, of course, but he would mostly be free to browse the city with me. We would certainly take advantage of all Paris had to offer.

                The Michelin guide showed twenty-seven 3-star restaurants in Paris with many also being on the James Beard Award list. It would not be hard to find appropriate vittles, I surmised.

                While we were in Paris, one restaurant that I wanted to visit was that of Jose Andres’. A Spanish chef, he was trained classically, and not by trade. He had become the biggest proponent of the molecular food movement and was perhaps the second most renowned chef in the world at the time, behind the infamous Thomas Kelleher. I had never been to Napa, and I had never been to the French Laundry; but Brady and I vowed that we would make reservations and travel there the following year.

               

                Both Guy Savoy and Jose Andres’ (Ceasar’s Palace) had opened restaurants in Las Vegas. For some odd reason, the revitalization of “America’s Playground” had been successfully courting chefs for nearly ten years; and they were coming without precaution in droves. Marcus Samuelson, Anthony Bourdain, Tyler Florence, Chef Morimoto, and others, just to name a few. It remained to be seen who Steve Wynn would court to be his “5-Star, All-Star”, but he was on the prowl. I imagine it will be someone who could entertain the Asian population, as he had also opened a new casino location in Macau as well. It would be someone that could deliver the appropriate cuisine for his clientele in both locations.

                

Wynn Hotel was the hottest on the strip at this time. Brady and I had even been looking on Travelocity and Trivago for last minute deals to Vegas with a flight and hotel option just to visit Wynn Casino, Steve’s hallmark property. I mean, I’m not sure how he found a prime location on the strip and managed to raise a $2 Billion behemoth in a matter of months; but, if anyone can do it, it is Steve Wynn. He was perhaps the best businessman on the planet. Polished, mercenary, intelligent and with the sole intent on making large amounts of profits for himself and his shareholders. Arguably, Warren Buffett is the smartest businessman on the planet, followed by the late Steve Jobs, the Visionary; Larry Ellison of Oracle and also Bill and Melinda Gates, who are now philanthropists instead of the sole owners of Microsoft.

                Brady and I would not find any deals, so we decided that we would just pay a fair price to visit Wynn in the near future.

                The Louvre in Paris was perhaps my favorite, the Eiffel Tower came in as a close second, and the food and wine….well, a tie for first. It was only a 6-day, 5-night vacation, but we managed to cram as much into that vacation as we could. It was also like a second honeymoon.

                April came quickly and soon would be time for rainy days and May flowers. We were doing some landscaping around our home. We had purchased quite the home at $650,000 and it had become our single largest asset. I intended to run the restaurant for a few years, sell it, and then we had plans to again sell Brady’s practice and move to Walla Walla, Washington; as Brady’s ideal job is to become a Master of Wine, Sommelier at least at some level, and operate wineries and a B & B in both Walla Walla, Washington and Mendoza Argentina. Both were up and coming AVA’s, and we wanted to purchase the land and capture the rise in market prices even before we bottled a single run of vino.

                We called the restaurant “Cibo”. It is an Italian name, but we planned to offer cuisine from all different styles from all over the world. Local fish from the South, Europe and Argentina. Brady decided that he would prepare the wine list and also pick the pairings for the three-course meal each night. At first, he was not making it home till about 7:30 PM, but with a few tongue lashings, he managed to begin to make it home by 7. The way our restaurant was set up, even the chefs and servers were finished at a decent hour. And as you may or may not know, most people in the restaurant industry are also purveyors of fine wine and spirits, and tend to imbibe too much as well. But a short schedule from 4:00 PM to perhaps between 10 – 11 PM, would keep them on their toes and allow them time to rest each day; and nite if they so chose, and to return to work the following day.

                The summer was short and August came quickly. We began turning a profit on the restaurant in September, and the goal was to use the profits from the restaurant and the personal delivery service to purchase the land and begin planting grapes in February the following year in Mendoza. Then grapes would be planted in May in Walla Walla.

                

I came to appreciate Brady’s business acumen. While I mentioned earlier that his father was an engineer, numbers was Brady’s main focus. He knew how to turn a dollar into ten. The personal delivery service became profitable within the first three weeks as we had no overhead. We used our own vehicles initially and within three months Brady was able to buy cars for the business. We paid our employees by the hour and gave them bonuses for scheduling their own runs. It seemed like everything was falling into place.

                

Brady had taken in $12 Million in assets in his financial planning practice in the first twelve months. Not unheard of, but certainly a valiant effort was made, and the plans he placed in motion came to fruition. In addition to that, he had written quite a bit of insurance in the months of October to December 15, as that is the open enrollment period for Medicare Supplement and Part D prescription drug insurance. Obamacare had changed the rules in the insurance business, and was basically hamstringing the economy from an insurance prospective.

                Notwithstanding, Brady was building a large practice at a rapid pace. I was running the restaurant and we had three cars and six employees for the personal delivery business. Brady projected that we would make about $750,000 that year and the goal was to pay off the house and be free and clear of all encumbrances and debt. The Bible says, that it is not good to owe. And with over 650 monetary biblical principle in the Great Book, Brady intended to follow each one to the letter. Brady began to focus his practice on single women and widows. He even purchased a limousine to pick up the widows in his book of business to get them to their appointments and even additional appointments around town. He had taken this idea of a personal delivery service to the next level. Because of this level of service, the widows in his business grew in droves. Additionally, for the younger single women; focusing on divorcees and those that were single and needed financial advice, he started a seminar series based on the popular book, “Smart Women Finish Rich”. Written by an author by the name of David Bach, he covers financial principles designed especially for women. While diversity has certainly helped women in the workforce, they still earn approximately thirty percent less than men in the same level, or position of employment. Whoever said that life isn’t fair was absolutely correct, and that is the singular reason why I wanted to cease my employment with Crook & Chase and become and entrepreneur.

                

After pictures, a light snack was served. Brady was the one to choose this course and of all things chose sushi. California, Philly and Salmon rolls. He had paired it with a nice Riesling from the Mosul region of Germany. At 3:15 PM, I prepared myself to walk down the aisle. The infamous “Canon in “D”, “played and the guests stood to their feet as my father walked me down the aisle. It may have been a second time, but this time was special. As mentioned previously, the weather could not have been more perfect.

The bride; me that is, wore a 1950s vintage dress that was purchased locally in Charleston. The men were outfitted in Khaki pants, a blue and white French cuff shirt, and finally a green and blue striped tie with the covering of a Navy Blue Sport Coat. Brady’s gift for the men had been there outfits, and he even purchased shoes from Aldo for all five.

As I continued down the aisle, the eyes began to focus from back to front as I was going to meet Brady in front of all to see. All was quiet as we exchanged our vows. Halfway thru, we paused for a song and John Legend’s “All of Me” filled the air with the most pleasant musical sound I have ever heard. The vows were quick it seemed, and Scott did an appropriate job of officiating. He spoke a lot about faith and love, both appropriate subjects for us and our wedding nuptials. Corinthians 13 was mentioned as was the faith chapter, Hebrews 11.

A short ceremony was conducted, a song played, and soon after; a long silence before a loud, thundering “Hooray” from the crowd and clapping could be heard for what seemed like a country mile. Rice was not thrown as it harms the birds. Instead, we gave away favors of Andes candies. Chocolate is something that everyone enjoys anyway; and it is an aphrodisiac; Blamo! However, the flowers were thrown and Dad has purchased a beautiful bouquet for me.

The people had set up a tent with hanging lanterns at the corners and underneath on hanging string. Tables were outfitted with both a royal blue and white table linen. Orchids garnished every centerpiece and there was a different variety for each to take home. The dinner was five different types of barbeque that had spent the day underground roasted in a fire pit, and then prepared in the five different ways by a master chef. Additionally, there was Prime Rib or Rib Eyes for beef lovers and Chilean Sea Bass for those who will not eat beef or pork. Not saying they come from the wrong side of the tracks, but who doesn’t eat beef and pork.

We laughed, we danced, we sag, we ate, and we imbibed. A good time was had by all. We raised nearly $350 on the “dollar dance”, and as everyone wanted to dance with the new bride. I on the other hand, only had a few dance with me. My mother, Stephanie’s mother, and a few ladies from the bridal party. Stephanie, on the other hand had a multitude of people standing in line for the opportunity to take a spin. We had to play three songs for her line to get to zero.

We would soon be heading out to our honeymoon destination. I was excited and would be surprised, as this is something that Brady had picked on his own. I would not know the destination until we arrived, and I had planned to sleep on the plane, or in the car; as I knew not whether we were flying or driving to our final destination.

We landed several hours later, and I did sleep. As we loaded our bags into a Jeep, there was island music playing. Neither Brady nor I had been here, but I knew I was in for an adventure. We were to stay eight days and seven nights, but Brady would talk me into a few more before it was all over. Bora Bora was the place. It even sounded magical. After all, I was just happy to be a new bride. I couldn’t wait to see what life would hold with Brady. And even though Graham had inherited a large sum of money from his father who died prematurely, I would never reap the benefits from any of it; and I truly believe that even the security of the money never had any emotional impact on him personally.

We checked into the Thalasso Spa, Bora Bora, at about Noon. The water was as clear as I had ever seen. You could see fish below swimming as if it was the cleanest water in the world. Sadly, they looked healthier than me in their own environment. The hotel was essentially thatched-roof huts that fanned out into the ocean in a geometrically sound shape. If this was not the picture of Japanese or Chinese health; whichever you want to apply, I do not know what was. All of our Chakras were right, and nothing was wrong.

Brady had scheduled a couple’s massage for 3:00 PM the first day. On beds overlooking the ocean at the top of a mountaintop at Nui Resort and Spa, I watched the gentle ocean waves crash against the 800 meters of white shoreline while a French Polynesian man relieved Brady and I from all of our stress; not that there was much to be had in a place like this. Similar to the first time I married, I was wondering about our guests, but I knew that my father and mother would ensure that a good time was had by all. For some reason, I had brought my iPod and I was listening to John Legends CD as this man with wonderful hands worked on me for about an hour. He started with a very simple Swedish massage technique and moved quickly into deep tissue. At the end, he would again finish in a gentle style, with essential oils and lotion to make my skin smooth and fresh. I began to wonder what our first meal in French Polynesia might be, and I was hungry after the long journey.

We had reservations at Villa Mahana the first night. It continued on the theme of majestic. As we ate, a classical and contemporary type of music with a heavenly vibe filled the air. This was no “run of the mill” eaterie. The white tablecloths adorned the table and the chairs we were ushered into were French-styled wingbacks which seemed to have the patina of a bygone era. The glasses for water has a blue rim that fired for about an inch from the top. One could notice that they were made by cutting the top off of a wine bottle and were shaped and colored by a master craftsman. The wine glasses were appropriately Reidel, and there were paintings that covered the walls. Most were a contemporary style that paid homage to the Roman-style, as most of the figurines were a little distorted from the wide paintbrush and showed nudity.

The chef had studied in France and was classically trained in Paris. If the wine list was any indication, I felt sure that a sommelier was retained. Brady and I both opted for the same meal and ordered a bottle of Guigal for sipping. Rare Tuna steak garnished with a few blackberries with a side of Bibb lettuce finely dressed with a pineapple citrus marinade instead of a dressing. This was no ordinary Tuna. The chef had sent out a complimentary appetizer and later visited our table to recommend the Tuna. It was freshly caught just two hours before preparation by a local fisherman. He was paid daily for the daily catch. Sometimes I wish I had a job so simple and so easy. It would be a wonderful thing to know that I was delivering the famous French Polynesian fish each day at the market price.

Brady knew that I had a concept for a restaurant at some point that I would open in my life. Thirty-two place settings each evening and one appetizer, entre and dessert. When the reservations are booked, the show is over. It would give time for the chefs to plan a daily menu that would always be local and fresh. As a woman growing up watch my Father work his guts out, I decided that I would take a softer approach to work, but still retain the work ethic that he had taught me. As we dined, I talked about the opportunity to Graham as I had about had my fill of “Crook & Chase”. We would be treated like royalty no doubt, and we ate like the King and Queen of England throughout the week. Brady thought the opportunity interesting, as there was not such a concept in Roanoke. Neither of us had any strong ties to home, except for my parents that I saw religiously on Saturday and Sunday, so we also talked about a move to Asheville. I could start the restaurant, and Brady could either sell his book of business, or retain it as an annuity and visit Virginia once a week to service his client base there.

Within two weeks of returning from vacation, we decided to pick up stakes and move. I was thirty-nine when we became Ashevillians, and I was happy to begin a new life in a new home with Graham. We took a few short visits to see where we might like to live and landed in the same community as Brady’s friend, entrepreneur Mike Lintz. It was called Biltmore Lake. Our new address would be 377 Quill Gordon Court, Biltmore Lake, NC 28715.

Mom,

We have started a beautiful new life in Asheville. Brady was offered quite a price to sell his practice so we decided to do so and put the money toward our home. It is not fully paid for, but we have plenty of equity as a security blanket. Brady has joined Mutual of Omaha, and he says it is the strongest compensation plan he has ever seen in the financial services business.

It is Saturday, and today I will hang a clothesline in the back yard whether the neighbors like it or not. It is getting chilly here in the evenings, and the days shorter and shorter, but I am happy to report that my laundry will still be done as we have always done it on Saturdays; as it is a tradition I will never break.

In addition to Brady’s new employment, we are opening a restaurant. Brady also has an idea for a personal delivery service, but that remains to be seen how the details will come together. In “Beer City”, I feel sure the concept will catch on quickly.

Your daughter, with Love,

Stephanie

Brady has always had a strong, positive opinion on the wares from Jos. A. Bank. Their deals are truly unbeatable. Who can afford to run a, “Buy 1, Get 3 Free” suit sale and stay in business? Somehow, they are able to, as witnessed by the small fact that they recently merged in a partnership of equals with Men’s Wearhouse. A good move for both, I would think. Brady is frugal, and decided on only three shirts that day. Besides his muscle shirts and polo shirts, I have never seen Brady wear a shirt that buttons up the front with short sleeves. It is simply not his style…and I do have to say confidently, his style is impeccable when it comes to taste in clothing.

Brady also wanted to frolic in M. Dumas & Company; just to look. He someday dreams of owning a single Canali suit, but who pays $3000 for suit and walks away without buyer’s remorse. I certainly couldn't do it. Now a bag from Coach may be different, but it would have to be a gift and not a purchase.  There was plenty to like in M. Dumas, except the price. They had all the styles and brands that you find in Macy’s on 5^th.

We browsed a few more stores and I bought a few more items to include a sundress that was forty percent off at Ann Taylor Loft. Brady was also nice enough to allow me the option of upgrading my undergarments as well at his and my new favorite, Victoria Secret. He had always purchased these things for his girlfriends at that particular store.

Brady introduced me to a new type of dinner at a local seafood restaurant. Having had some not-so-good and certainly not-so-sophisticated relationships in the past, all of this was new to me. Brady treated me like a Queen, and was able to share with me the finer things in life. He ordered some Sweet Teas and Low-Country Boil for dinner. The price was attractive at $29.99, and boy was that some fine eating. Dungeness and Alaskan Crab Legs, Shrimp, Corn on the Cob, Muscles, Lobster with butter, mushroom, potatoes, and everything seafood except the kitchen sink. You simply lay out a brown paper cloth, dump the pot, and go to town. I was simply amazed at how all the flavors came together by boiling the ingredients in one singular pot.

 After dinner, a rickshaw ushered us back to the hotel and we again visited the lobby bar for a nitecap. To our surprise, there was a sign or poster door hanger on our hotel door handle in the shape of a wine bottle which offered us free wine bottle service for the evening. Brady was quick to take advantage of this kind offer and we enjoyed a Tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain. The wine showed tastes of Mulberry, Black Cherry and had a Smoky nose and finish to include white pepper. To date, it is my favorite red.

Sunday morning was a sad day. We had so much enjoyed our weekend that I did not want to make the trip back to Roanoke and leave Brady. After enjoying a cupcake at “Cupcake down South”, it was time to hit the road; as we would have to actually go back to work on Monday. Brady decided we would take the scenic route, and we traversed the Blue Ridge Parkway instead of the more direct interstate route. While it added time to the drive, we were certainly happy with the choice.

My thirties was perhaps the best decade of my life. And at this juncture, I think it appropriate to ship to the best part. Are you ready? Ready or not, here it comes.

Unbeknownst to me, Brady mad a trip to my mother and father’s house in Fincastle just a few short weeks after our trip to Charleston, South Carolina. Like a true Southern gentleman, he had gone to ask my father and mother for my hand in marriage. Mom was ecstatic and wanted to call me and confidently tell me that a surprise was waiting in the wings, but Dad has made her promise to hold her tongue.

It was July and it had been a brutal summer. Temperatures were nearly topping 100 degrees on a daily basis. Dad was getting tiresome from keeping up the farm and bailing hay to take to horse sales in nearby Lexington, Virginia; horse country. Even in the dead of nite, temperatures never made it below 76 degrees that hot July summer. Brady devised a master plan to propose. There was a summer blue jean ball which supported a local food bank charity. I had never gone, and it was in Asheville, North Carolina…somewhere I had only visited, and more correctly drove thru. I had seen the Biltmore House in photos and knew that it was the hallmark gem of Asheville.

Thankfully, it was a cooler August evening, and we arrived at the somewhat famous Highland Brewing Company around 6:00 PM. Cocktails would be sold until 7:00 PM, and the music would start around 7:30 PM. They had vittles from about twenty local restaurants. Everything was incredibly tasty, as Asheville is known to be a thriving food-to-table restaurant community. All of the proceeds would support Manna Food Bank’s operations in a continuing effort for awareness of the hunger issue in Asheville and also to support their mission to feed Asheville on a daily basis.

A local jazz band played until 11:00 PM that evening. Around 9:30 PM; (I still remember the exact time), Brady went to get me some ice cream from the bar that was there from a local creamery. To my surprise, after a few bites, I bit into something round and incredibly solid. I nearly broke a tooth; which would not have been pretty for the impending wedding photos. When I reached into my mouth and pulled out the object that had protruded and been mixed in my blackberry crème sorbet, it was a diamond. And I mean a DIAMOND! Brady would never tell where he had purchased it that evening, but I later learned that it was certified thru Blue Nile, upon obtaining insurance for it. There was no way I was going to not insure a $4000 diamond; that was already valued at $7500.

At Blue Nile; an online diamond exchange, you van design the perfect diamond for your mate. The color was “C”, clarity “S-1”, cut, a perfect round with eighty-four facets, carat, “2.25”. Brady had thought enough of me to design the diamond that I still wear to this day. It seems to have gotten more radiant with age, like a fine wine that Brady and I loved so much; as we shared many a bottle over our many years.

 The wedding would be held in Charleston. I had decided on having a small gathering and a large reception. Intimate weddings are by far my favorite and my special day would be no different. Brady had become my perfect match. There was no other man on Earth that I wanted to be with. From the twinkle in his eyes when he looked at me, to the way he opened my car door, and by far the way he had opened my eyes to the finer things in life; he would soon be mine, and I his…forever.

I had picked Magnolia Plantation for the site for our nuptials. We had been to visit and had a consultation. We picked out a place under the Magnolia and Spanish Moss trees to exchange our vows. The site had room for about fifty guests and we were expecting an almost undo-able number of 300 plus for the reception. Thankfully, my father had done well this year in the hay season and would be able to pay for the many expenses that come associated with his daughter’s special day.

As I envisioned, all eyes would be on me at precisely 3:30 PM. I have heard it said that the couple should be married on the “Uptick”; highly appropriate as it is a sign of moving forward in time together, for as many years as God will allow. In addition to his boss, Brady’s manager, Scott Burgess, was a Baptist pastor. He had only officiated a half-a-dozen weddings or so during his tenure as a pastor. He was a 6’9” strong, black man with a family consisting of his wife, two daughters and a son. He had played college basketball in Upstate New York and hailed from Buffalo. Ironically, in this time, Buffalo had become a renewed and even burgeoning town with some life attached to it. However, he had moved from there years earlier and had spent some time in Tennessee before landing his current role in Asheville, North Carolina.

When we arrived at the plantation for pictures, guests were already there and enjoying either a glass of champagne or Sangria in the gardens under the trees for shade. Since we were married in the early fall, the weather had died down a bit with respect to the heat and there was a light breeze that day. The humidity was low, and the combination of the three made for a nice fall afternoon. At exactly 2:30 P.M., I arrived in a horse drawn carriage, and we had his father’s car to drive away in. It was a 1969 Chevrolet Impala SS with 427 horses under the hood. A real man’s car. The seats were white leather and the exterior color was a baby blue. Brady’s father had purchased the car in the fall of 1971, after returning home from a two-year tour in Vietnam. Brady had not been thought of yet, but knew as a child that he wanted to have the car; either by inheritance, purchase or gift.

The guests were brimming with excitement as they saw me arrive. A few snaps; or rather a lot of them, and the wedding ceremony would proceed. I had only four on my side and Brady had five as he had decided on two best men.  Thomas beck and John Hughes, Jr. would be his best men. John was a “on the rise” university professor in the Midwest in bio statistics and Tom was in the finance business like Brady. While Tom was an Ashevillian, they had met thru common friends at a conference. At the time, Brady and Tom were considering a career with MetLife, but each chose a different and better direction. John, however, had chosen the most appropriate university for his work based on the strength, breadth and depth of the university’s program.

After dinner, we decided to open the Pinot Grigio and sit and continue our conversation on the front porch. There was a softness in Brady’s eyes that evening that I had never seen. It was love for sure. It made me feel like I was the only person on Earth, perfect for him; and perhaps a perfect union in the making. “Would he propose in Anguilla?” I longed to hear him say the words and I had decided at that instant that I would offer myself to him forever with a resounding, “YES!”

Brady was unaware, but I had already made plans for the wedding to be held in the “City of Love”, or Charleston, South Carolina. I imagined myself walking thru a small party of guests in lawn chairs all looking at me with a gaze of wonderment. Taking each step with care toward Brady, I would become his wife for eternity beneath the Magnolia trees and Weeping Willows. The weather would be perfect and even a light rain might start at the very moment that we leaned in to kiss each other as husband and wife for the first time. Our guests would not need umbrellas as the rain would simply be small kisses from the heavens. Flowers would be throne and the after party would commence. I imagined small plates consisting of South Carolina barbeque and a compilation of all styles. Memphis Dry-Rub, Carolina Gold, South Carolina Vinegar style and your typical barbeque style.

                

We would definitely have asparagus; my favorite, as a side and perhaps some grains as well. Another option would be Low-Country boil that would be spread out across picnic tables with a paper-bag style tablecloth so that those enjoying crab would have a place for the mustard that could either be eaten as a garnish or scraped, as most people do. Orchids would be the flower of choice, and each couple or family would have one to take home in remembrance of the occasion. My mind raced with plans of grandeur…but of course Brady would have to ask for my hand in marriage. That would be step one.

                

As the night wound down, my thoughts were of a wedding; and I could see in Brady’s eyes that he was desiring to fulfill the next step toward making our relationship exclusive and official. As a woman who can multitask, I had my mind on both. Brady did inquire that evening, and I said “yes” to a fully committed relationship.

                

We designed a schedule. We would spend weekends together trading places; one weekend at his home and the next at mine. We had planned small getaways each weekend leading up to our summer vacation. It would not be long until we would reach the seashore, but it seemed like an eternity, waiting. Each day at work got longer and longer, but I was counting down the days to Anguilla.

                

We would fly from Roanoke regional airport to Miami, Florida, and then on to the Carribean. As the time neared, the days did actually seem to get shorter and I prayed each night for a safe trip and a formal proposal. Brady WAS the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my days with.

With this new found commitment between Brady and I, I was prepared to take a toothbrush and a few smaller items in the event of a “sleep-over” offer. The next day, I went into the office and directly marched into my boss’s office and demanded the day off. He kindly agreed and I decided to have a “Day of Dreaming.” Off to Barnes & Noble I went. I went straight away to the magazine rack, grabbing everything from Southern Living to Charleston Wedding Magazine…and everything in between I might add. To name a few more there was Wine Spectator, Dwell, Food & Wine, Travel + Leisure, etc.; and I had picked up a few that I thought Brady would also enjoy; Architectural Digest and Whiskey Advocate.

                

The next stop was Starbucks as I began to pour across the pages of Charleston Wedding magazine. If you thought the dreams were flying last evening, the thoughts in my head were scattered but free flowing today. I decided to dig deep into this particular magazine, and then at lunch time call Rona and perhaps go to visit my mother. It had been awhile since we saw each other anyway, as I had been skiing in the Northeast. Around 10:00 A.M., I phoned my mother and she answered. “This is Wednesday”, she said; and that was the first thing that came out of her mouth as she answered the phone. I took a few minutes to honestly apologize and we agreed on having lunch at Panera Bread.

                

While the trip to Killington was a highlight of our conversation, nothing was more exciting than the news that Brady and I were an item; significant others! Mother was ecstatic, as she knew what I had endured with Graham in my twenties. Perhaps this time it would be different. Boy meets girl, boy gets the girl, they live happily ever after, “The End.” Mother decided that after a cup of soup and a cold, crisp salad that we should go shopping. And who was I to turn down such a novel idea? I had tomato bisque and a ceasar salad and Mom opted for the black bean soup and a garden salad. We each paged thru the magazines with care. It seemed as if I had earmarked nearly every page in Charleston Wedding magazine. While unbeknownst to Brady, Mother was ecstatic that I had picked the “City of Love” as a wedding destination. Charleston is not terribly far from Roanoke, so it would be easy for family and close friends to make the journey.

Mom knew exactly where to take me to outfit me with some new clothes. We first ventured into White House|Black Market. As I probably mentioned previously, I have always been a fan of the classic and timeless look. This simply means that Black and White are great colors for any occasion, and colors that never go out of style. Some would also add Navy and Red, and I would have to agree; but Black and White can always fit the bill for any occasion, happy or sad. Every woman needs a ”Little Black Dress”, no?

As usual, Mother and I spent too much money shopping. There was WH|BM, Ann Taylor Loft, Banana Republic, New York & Company, Eddie Bauer, Dillard’s and the run of the mill department stores.

                

I was now prepared to meet Brady head on as I was armed with what seemed like a new wardrobe. So as to not let my dream for the weekend getaway, I had made a suggestion that our first weekend away be in none other than Charleston, SC. We arrived about 2:00 P.M. in the afternoon on a Friday. Neither of us worked much that week. Brady had taken off just Friday afternoon, but I had taken off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. We found public parking and a rickshaw.

                The first order of business was to make a reservation for dinner and then find a suitable hotel or Bed & Breakfast, my favorite. I have always enjoyed camping; I just prefer it at places like the Hilton, the Plaza or something along the lines. So much for starting a fire in the woods…not my cup of tea. On the corner of King Street, we happened to find the Francis Marion Hotel. The bell hop said they were fully booked, but Brady decided to enter and inquire. To our surprise, they had one room available and Brady said that we would take it. It was a 4-star hotel, so I knew in an instant that the accommodations would be suitable. The restaurant was just as highly regarded so we made a reservation for the evening.

                

When he returned, Brady had mentioned the interesting discussion had between he and the reservation agent. It seemed as if he had been quite a long time securing a room and I was starting to get nervous. Surely with so much time they had had at least one available. With that million-dollar smile on his face, Brady explained. The normal cost for a room at the Francis Marion on a Friday night would be $399. However, because there was a particular dysfunction with the toilet…may overflow, but definitely has a splash…we were able to get the room at $129 per night for two nights; a considerable savings. We come to find out that closing the lid before flushing kept the Lochness monster and the water from jumping out of the toilet upon flushing.

                

Dinner was scheduled for 7:00 P.M. and we arrived about thirty minutes early to enjoy a cocktail. I was in the mood for fish and to my surprise, Brady was as well. We ordered a bottle of Riesling from Germany and Brady ordered a whiskey as well. He had never enjoyed a Sidecar even though he had seen it ordered by George Clooney in movies several times. It was a likeable drink, quenching, and not heavily laden with a whiskey taste. An appetizer was ordered and dinner would follow shortly.

                

I ordered the Pecan-Crusted Salmon over a bed of rice with asparagus spears and Brady had an Open-Faced Chilean Sea Bass. The head, eyes and all were prominent from this fish from South America. We had eaten Chilean Sea Bass at Metro on several occasions in Roanoke, but this was some good eatin’. Every bite seem to burst with flavor, and we added a bottle of buttery Chardonnay from the Napa Valley to go with dinner. Bite after bite, we rejoiced with pleasure an applauded the chef and especially the bartender. She was a young girl, raised in the South, and had chosen Charleston against her Father’s wishes as a place to attend school. Apparently, he would have rather had her attend somewhere closer to home.

                

Dinner ended with dessert. Tiramisu…my favorite. Brady opted for a Starbucks coffee alongside his dessert and it would soon be time to call it a nite, hit the scrubber, and then the sack. We would make love for the first time that evening, and I would be brimming with ecstasy for what seemed like hours on end.

                

Morning came too quickly, but the order of the day was shopping on King Street. What a pity! Brady had even picked some places that he would like to go. His go-to store for his attire was Jos. A. Bank. In addition to that store, there was Dumas & Sons, which had been a Charleston landmark for fine clothing for nearly seventy-five years, Here you can find $3,000 Canali suits. One of the finest accoutrements made in Italy, you will pay thru the nose; as they say, but as the saying also goes, you get what you pay for. Allen Edmonds shoes, which every President since the 1950's is outfitted with, are also prevalent.

                

To my surprise, we also found Polo shirts made by a local entrepreneur that we knew personally at a clothing store in Charlotte. Mike Lintz was a close friend and had started a clothing line with a partner in the early 200s, True Flies Clothing, LLC. He had been trying to get into Dumas & Sons for some time, as his wares would have an attractive price point alongside the other lines of clothing, but they had yet to come to a formal agreement. I advised him to keep trying.

                

We found parking on King Street, but it was not without a hitch. While Brady is an excellent driver, parallel parking is usually not the forte of anyone with a driver’s license. He managed to scrape the plastic bumper of a Nissan Armada at about 9:00 A.M. in the morning. I applauded him for keeping his cool, as now the Kia Optima that he drove had an additional blemish. A quick buff would fix this error, but it would not be done for quite some time. Character for now, I surmise!

                

The goal for Saturday was shopping. King Street is a small 5^th Avenue-type shopping district in Charleston. Almost any high end store you want to find is there. Additionally, there are the local business owners that have been the cornerstone and hallmark stores on the district for years. Brady was a little septic from the night before…too much imbibing on his part…but he was a trooper nonetheless. Store after store we shopped until we would drop. One of my favorites was Aldo. I purchased a crème and black purse which had a fold-over clasp with a bow. Brady was actually the one that spotted it and decided that I needed to own it for myself. He also purchased some shoes and a watch and I a blue and white striped clutch and some small jewelry items. The sale was amazing and even though Brady’s shoes were full price at $84.99, we still managed to get out of there for just over $200.

                

By lunch time we had already spent nearly a grand, so we decided to slow down and take in some lunch. We decided on a cocktail and appetizers and landed at a little Irish Pub for some relaxation. Brady ordered and Oban and Ginger; hair of the dog I suppose, and I had a refreshing, fruity Sex on the Peach. A couple of appetizers were enjoyed and the service was unfortunately “muy malo”, or very bad! Not to allow it to ruin our day, we once again hit the streets with an economic passion.

It was traditional Italian with a wonderful flair for the extraordinary. I could immediately understand why this was considered a gem within the restaurant scene in Killington. We all decided on the same meal as it was a clear choice. Braised Wild Boar with bow tie pasta. The boar was done perfectly as it literally fell apart when meeting the edge of a fork. The pasta was homemade and one could tell that it was made fresh that day. With a garnish of rosemary, the entire dish paired well with the Brunello di Montalcino that we had ordered. Dinner was amazing, but we didn’t stay for dessert. The men had scheduled one more event for the evening. Enter the Pickle Barrel Night Club. With four bars, three levels, and two stages, this particular entertainment complex was sure to please our appetites for entertainment and make for an unforgettable ending to our trip to Vermont.

                

On that particular evening, they had several comedians scheduled in the comedy club and live music from a local band. In another area of the nightclub, there was a DJ to provide a forum for dancing. We first enjoyed the comedy and then went dancing. The local band was first on our list for dancing and then we finished the evening dancing to the DJ. Brady was athletic and also had rhythm. We danced until nearly 1:00 A.M. The night had gone by too fast, as morning would come early and the beginning of the end of our vacation was near.

                

I decided that I was not going to let my affection for Brady go unnoticed. As he said goodnight and retreated to his room, I too bid him goodnight. However, I had secretly planned to go and visit him shortly. I went ahead and did all the things I needed to get ready for bed. I was in need of a shower since I had been dancing for several hours. I showered and shaved my legs. Dried off, applied a scented lotion and pulled back my hair. Finally, I brushed my teeth and took one final look in the mirror before exiting my room for Brady’s.

                

I caught him by surprise as I knocked on the door. I entered and he was wondering what I was there for. I explained that with his commitment made to me that I felt we should spend the evening together. My explanation was more in my actions than my words. I crawled into bed with him and asked him just to hold me. He agreed, and we caressed and kissed each other before lying down to go to sleep. I felt secure in his arms, and while we did not make love that evening, I could feel a sense of connectedness to him all evening. It was not long at all after I closed my eyes that I fell into a deep sleep.

                

Morning came too quickly. We decided to have breakfast before getting on the road for the long drive back to Roanoke. We found a quaint little café, and I had my last waffle with Vermont syrup. It had become my standby during our stay. As I sat there in the café, I took time to reflect on the events of the week. Most importantly, it was the memory of Brady in the art glass store as he had asked me to commit myself to him that was at the forefront of my mind. We had enjoyed many things during the trip; the skiing, the evening in the hot tub with snow falling on our heads, the restaurants and good conversations over dinner, but it was that moment in time with Brady that I remembered most.

               

                

Not a minute went by it seemed that we did not have something to talk about on the way home. Jack and Rona were on their way back to Knoxville, Tennessee, and we were on our way back to Roanoke. For a while, we were able to drive in tandem with each other. We planned to have lunch with them one last time during the trip home. We stopped at a Cracker Barrel in Pennsylvania and this would be the last time we would see each other for some time. As we got back in our cars after lunch, hugs and kisses were given. Additionally, Rona explained how excited she was for Brady and I. We were beginning a new relationship after all, and she was happy for me.

                

The drive was not as bad as I thought. While it was nearly twelve hours, it didn’t feel like we had wasted a whole day in the car because of the conversations we had. We talked about our next vacation ideas and what they might be. I suggested a summer getaway to somewhere that I could be in the sun and wear a bikini; but you probably already knew that this suggestion would be at the top of my list. Brady was even ok with the idea of taking me somewhere where I could shop. He was just an all-around good guy. I could see myself with him for many years to come if God would allow it.

                

Twelve hours later, we pulled up to my place. Brady had just less than thirty minutes to go home, and we both needed a day of rest before going back to work. It had been a memorable week for me and I felt that it lived up to Brady’s expectations as well. As he drove away, I was calm, but at the same time missing him at that very moment. I did not want him to leave. Surely we would get together the following week for lunch, but for me that wouldn’t be soon enough…or so I thought.

               

It seemed hard to go back to work after a week in Killington. Monday was a long and arduous day, but I made it through. That evening Rona called. I explained that Brady and I had talked the whole way home from the restaurant to Roanoke. It seemed as if we never missed a beat. We also had spent time listening to music and singing along when we knew the words. We talked for what seemed to be hours that evening, reminiscing about our blunders on the slopes, the time spent in the hot tub, the restaurants we had eaten at and the late nite conversations by the fireplace. Sadly, it was hard to come back to my more than empty fridge and attempt to re-create something of value compared to the scrumptious vittles we had had on vacation.

                

Brady called on Tuesday, and as normal, we met for lunch. I could tell that something was pressing when we met. He seemed somewhat distracted and even a little bit removed as we talked over salads. Much to my surprise it was a good distraction. After taking some time to get his words together, he explained that he both wanted and needed to move our relationship forward. He wanted to pin me down a bit.

               

I was all for it, so decided to take things to the next level. I had made a commitment in my mind during our time in Vermont, and was prepared to move forward, however; I was waiting on Brady to make that particular decision. Over lunch, I invited him to come over to my humble abode after work and I would cook for him. I suggested 7:30 PM, giving myself a little time to make it to the grocery store after work.

                

I drove to the Fresh Market after work and had decided on fish. I would buy a bottle of buttery Chardonnay to go along with salmon, some cous cous and asparagus. It seemed like a well-rounded meal to me, light and fresh. I did not want to set the bar too high on the idea that I would have to continue to cook for him, hopefully, for the rest of my life, God willing.

                

Brady made it to my home around 7:15PM. I appreciated that he was early, but not too early. I knew in my heart that I wanted him to stay the night, but was not prepared to ask. I decided to let the nite play out and just see where things led. Undoubtedly, I was not going to let Brady attempt to drive home after one too many a glass of wine. When he approached the door, I could see a flower and a bottle of vino in hand. He had brought a Pinot Grigio and a Rose’, as he was unsure as to what I was cooking that evening. He did, however, err on the side of caution by staying on the lighter side of the spectrum with respect to wine choices. Perhaps as a sign of understanding, he stayed away from the bold reds like a Malbec or Cabernet Sauvignon, knowing and drawing a parallel toward not being to bold. “Great choice, Brady”, I thought to myself. And I additionally voiced it in words as he stepped in.

               

I’m not sure how he knew, but he had brought me my favorite flower. I have been a fan of Orchids since the first time I saw them. They are delicate, intricate, simple, colorful; and of course, beautiful. Brady had brought me one from a local florist and had chosen a white five-star prong leafed Orchid with a light peach and pink hue.

               

I place the Orchid as a centerpiece on the table. We sat at my breakfast nook, and there was just enough room for two. Brady suggested that we open the Chardonnay that I had purchased and that we save the Pinot Grigio and Rose’ for our next dinner. I cranked the oven up to 350 degrees and prepared the salmon with light salt, pepper and a splash of teriyaki sauce which I lightly brushed on for taste. The asparagus would take twelve minutes exactly as I had perfected the way to make it so that it comes out crisp every time. I had gotten to the point where I even ask at restaurants when I dine out to cook it my way. I season the asparagus with salt pepper and olive oil. I also add a few Portobello mushrooms for flavor and place it in the oven in a rolled up, closed, paper bag for exactly twelve minutes. Grains are always a challenge, but I delivered a perfect cous cous that evening.

               

Over dinner, we too reminisced about our skiing adventure in Killington, Vermont. We had only been home for three days and it seemed as if I needed another vacation. At the very least, I desired deep in my heart to have another vacation with Brady. We revisited the idea of a summer vacation, and had decided on Anguilla. A ten day vacation would be the order of business this time. “Back to the gym”, I thought to myself. More Pilates and Yoga for the next three months, and lots of core exercises so I would be ready and prepared to look my best for Brady!

               

Jack and Rona would have to stay behind this time, as this was designed to be a romantic getaway for just the two of us, no pun intended. The Carribean is a beautiful and magical place. As we talked about the planning process over dinner, my mind drifted to thoughts about the clear water, white-sandy beaches and laying in a cabana while watching the waves crash across the shoreline. I would have to wait for several months, but I was already starting to get excited as we ate our dinner.