Chapter 7, Grand Opening

Benton peered out the living room window. The snow lay thickly like a layer of melted marshmellow. Save for the path made by State15 whose traffic was still continuous but slow, the world looked like one great white panorama. The fireplace was keeping the living room a nice seventy degrees and it cracked and popped occasionally causing Benton to turn for fear a coal was escaping to burn Theresa's good persian rug. It was faux persion, but looked nice nonetheless. Christmas was just a few days away but the house was drab and un-decorated. Across the way, he could see the other occupied houses, one for each of the early birds from the soon to be opened plant and one or two other entrepenuers who had opened buisnesses along the roadway.

The Conoco had opened along with a garage and the owner had even bought a snow plow which was now coming handy. It was a state road and he was getting state dollars for the trouble, but he was also plowing the dirt tracks that lead to the farm houses at a nice profit to boot. Benton had met him the day the service station opened, a Mr. Lawrence Applewood, an affeble enough young man with a wife and a child. They're house was directly accross the street from Benton's and next door to another engineer brought down from Charleston by Petro-Chem. An older man and a widower, Michael Strood, with a son and a little daughter whose mother died tragically in a bus accident in Charleston that also claimed the lives of several others. He seemed to Benton to be a nice enough fellow though a lingering doubt always overtook him whennever Michael was around that Benton had taken the position that Michael was himself up for. George had said nothing but good things about him and the higher ups had made him the offer to move and to have the house built and he arrived.

The realty company, of which Benton had share in had purchased the swath of land fifty feet from State15 for housing development and Petro-Chem had paid for the building of what would amount to twenty houses for Petro-Chem employees and mostly the management types. They also seemed to have followed a pattern for the house that was built, Georges' for example was palacial, four bedrooms, two baths and a large guest room set off from the living room and kitchen. Benton's own house was large for just two people and this morning the fire place could only keep up with the living room, the temprature outside a crisp ten degrees above zero.

Theresa was still in bed despite the time being seven thirty in the morning. Benton sipped at his coffee gingerly it still being too hot to suffer more than a little taste at a time. It was thick and dark and too strong, Theresa getting the combination of grounds to water right every time. This morning he had to make it if he wanted any. The fog of his breath clouded the window and he would move every so often to a different spot to clear the view. There wasn't much to see anyway but a field of white. There was a meeting in an hour at the plant and he had to finish getting ready. Although operations would not start for another few weeks, he was on the company nickle each day though there was really not much to do. He dutifully went in each day and attempted to be his title of Chief Engineer, but it was a stretch even for the most imaginative to pull work out of nothingness.

George on the other hand was always busy and Benton supposed it came with the territory George had carved out for himself. Benton wasn't totally bored each day, but he did manage to find himself driving home early each day as the charade of usefull employment would fade and everyone around him would suddenly get the same idea to head out one by one. He was still being paid for those early days and a tinge of guilt would always ride home with him like a passenger, but he would tell himself it would end eventually and he'd be as busy as he used to be in the Raliegh office.

The coffee cooled enough and he took a big, satisfying gulp. The cold from the windows bathed his face and front while the fireplace warmed his back. The house, aside from the crackle of the fire, was silent and still and but for the persian rug on the floor and the couch, the living room was still bare. Theresa had yet to decorate and although she was idle at the moment had, mysteriously to Benton, remained aloof and uninterested in unpacking but the essentials. He figured it was punishment for dragging her away from the flowershop and Raliegh to this boreing place. They had agreed to do so once his transfer became official and all the talking and planning had seemingly not meant anything when it came time to finally act. He sensed the resistance regardless of even the sale of the flowershop. He had done his part, why couldn't she?

Another gulp and the coffee was almost gone. Standing in his pajamas and bathrobe Benton breathed in one last wiff of the aroma from the mug and drained it. He had enough time to get cleaned up before needing to brave the ice on the road to the plant. He crept up the stairs and felt the cold of the house suddenly collapse upon him, the warmth of the living room fading too fast. Disrobing as fast and queitly as he could he jumped into the small master bathroom and flipped the switch to the ambient electric heater. Goose flesh crept over his naked skin and he shivered. It would also take some time for the water to heat up and he stood shivering until the bathroom warmed from both steam and the heater.

Dressed and presentable he gobbled down two slices of toast with jam and decided he'd get to the plant early before the meeting to catch up the paperwork that was stacking up in his office. Each morning had been the same since they had moved in. He would be the first up and the last one to bed and save for the times he came home early, he would only see Theresa but briefly. Unable to say much about her odd behavior, he just ignored it. Bundled up he exited the backdoor from the kitchen and sprinted, as much as one can in three feet of snow, to the outgarage to his chevy sedan. Benefit number one to the move, no traffic as he had known traffic in Raliegh. The weather had dampened all but the most hardy of drivers and State15 was mostly deserted, but Applewood's plowing job had cleared the road all the way to the plant and the drive was slow but uneventful.

Benton pulled down the short drive entrance from State15 to the plant and passed the empty guard shack. The plant was much to look at. In the front where the offices in a low tin roofed building that was built more for economy than it was for esthetics. A glassed in entranceway bid visitors welcome and a few parking spaces in the front stated visitors only. They did when the snow wasn't covering them. The parking lot hadn't been swept of the snow and Benton had to guess where the management parking began and ended, not that it mattered that much as it was only the management that was working. There where already a few cars in the lot and he recognized Strood's car as well as the new accounting manager, Philip Dowd who had just moved down and occupied his house last Friday.

"At least the office will be warm and have better coffee," Benton said to himself as he hustled the fifty feet from the parking lot to the side employee entrace. Stamping his feet loudly he shook the clingy snow from his trouser legs and shoes and hung his coat and hat upon the row of hooks that lined the entrance way. Already each person working had staked out thier own peg. It was indeed warm in the office proper and the inandescent glow reminded Benton that he was now indeed at work, that glow and smell that could only be the artificial environment of a workplace immediately put him into a work mode. He had upped the ladder to an office, a small one, but one with walls and a door for privacy while the rest had to suffice with mini partitions around thier desks in an open bay where everyone could see everyone.

"Morning Benton," Michael Strood said as Benton walked passed his "office".

"Never got this cold in Raliegh," Benton replied and rubbed his hands together.

"Got cold enough in Charleston, but I don't remember snow like this covering everything."

"Is that coffee I smell?" Benton asked hopefully.

"Yeah, should still be some, Dowd just put some on not but a bit ago," Michael stated.

"Capital, I had to make my own this morning and it was horrible," Benton screwed his face into a bitter pucker.

"Learned to make long ago, it really is an art." Michael laughed.

"I'd better get some of the good part of the pot before everyone else shows up then," Benton said and walked into his office and grabbed his coffee mug from his desk. The management break room was spartan. The large coffee perkolator stood in one corner upon a cabinet along side of a service with the usual cream and sugar dispensers. A lunch table sat in the middle and couches lined the far walls, a paper from Charleston from three days ago sat on the table. Pouring himself a brimming mug, Benton gingerly walked over to the table and thumbed the paper while blowing across the steamy surface of his mug.

"Maybe one day we'll actually get a paper delivered the day it was printed," Michael said with a smile and then headed to the coffee.

"This place might just rate its own paper soon the way it's growing," Benton replied.

"Can't shake the thought that this place isn't as much as promotion as it was an exile. I've wondered what it was that I did to be sent up the river," Michael grinned and sipped at his coffee.

"Yeah, it was a big step to take, going from a big city to almost nothing in comparison. You should have seen it two years ago, there was nothing here but the farms and the Post Office. By comparison, this place is a metropolice!" Benton laughed.

"Don't know what Hattie is going to do with herself once she feels settled in," Michael said.

"That's your sister-in-law, right?"

"Yes, she agreed to come down to help with the children. But she's going to get cabin fever sooner or later if she doesn't find something else to do besides watch her niece and nephew," Micheal replied.

"You thinkin' of having her apply here?"

"No, she wouldn't be able to work full time and watch the children and this place isn't set well for day care. She'd have to find something part time, but so far there isn't anything here offering that." Micheal took a sip of coffee and sighed.

"I hear there's a couple of companies looking to start services here, someone's looking at land to build a diner and a few retail places might go up soon. Those places might be more suited to her than the Conoco," Benton said.

"She's definatly not the grease monkey type!"

"I don't know, could you imagine the buisness a service station could garner if it's grease monkey's where all buxom slender types. Of course it would probably be the worlds most expensive gasoline!" Benton smirked.

"I'd pay fifty cents a gallon just to look at someone other than some pimply faced man," Michael laughed.

"True."

"Somehow I don't think we'd interest Hugh Heffner in the scheme, especially not out here!" Michael chuckled.

"Oh, not out here for certain. That'd be the first thing the locals would run out of town. I'm surprised nothing has happened to anything else that has gone up. The local farmers aren't exactly the friendliest bunch," Benton said and took a drink of his coffee.

"I haven't had much contact with any of them save for at the grocer. They all seemed affable enough."

"There's some who'd just as soon ride you out on a rail than say hulo."

"Hattie's already commented to me that there's not any husband material out here for sure, least not from the locals."

"More people coming for sure, she's gettin' in on the ground floor of the whole thing. Plenty of husband material headed this way in the next years," Benton grinned. "How about you? Have you thought of re-marrying?" Benton realized his question too late and felt a tinge of regret at his impertinence.

"Oh, yes and no," Micheal replied uneasy. "Not an easy proposition. I'm already old as old comes in these matters. Not exactly in an area where one can window shop either."

Feeling the air become uncomfortable for both of them, Benton mumbled about getting ready for the meeting and walked back to his office. Closing the door behind him and settling into his chair he thought a moment about his new subordinate and the difficulties of living alone in some far away place from the rest of polite socieity. It struck him then at the enormity of the sacrifce he had asked Theresa to make. Before, it had just been something that seemed to lead naturally into something else and as a matter of course he would pursue it. It was, afterall, his career that he had to think of. The move and the schemes and the prospects of gaining something from this greedy world had enticed him to picking up everything they had and move to a dreary cross roads and try to take up roots once more. He wasn't sure, but Theresa was not unlike Micheal's Hattie, stuck with the circumstances life had dealt and not really able to do much about it.

It dawned on him that perhaps she had left more behind than just her buisness back in Raliegh. Perhaps it was time to call in a few markers with George and the realty. He wasn't in a position to command much in the way of control, his portion mitigated by his inability at the start to contribute more than just a fifteen percent of the capital needed to get started, but that fifteen percent might be enough to leverage something out of what was fast becoming slim pickings along the roadway.

The stack of forms and other paperwork sitting in his in-tray beckoned his attention. The clock on the wall showed he had thirty minutes before the meeting in the conference room. Behind him the high windows bathed the office in an opaque glow as the sunlightt forced its way through the thick cloud cover. His office was also spartan; he had hung his engineering diploma and a certification in hydrolic design from his former position in Raliegh. The walls begged for more decoration, thier stark white paint clashed slightly with the outter walls that faced the side of the office building. These were just metal framing with a thin layer of insulation between. At times he could feel the cold of the metal siding projecting upon his back.

***
The coference room was half full. Of all the rooms in the office building, this and the GM's office where the best. The room was tastefully decorated in a warm brown. The walls where painted brown and waynescoating of oak lined the walls to four foot in height. It was also one of the few rooms that was carpted and the wood table was new, it still had the slightly oily feel of the stain upon its surface. It also had that newly stained odor to it and the room smelled of it despite the cigerettes. Ash trays lined the center of the table and several of the attenders kept up a constant puff.

"I trust everyone had a nice weekend," George said as he shuffled a few papers in front of him as if looking for something. "As far as I know, we are still on track for startup in three weeks, the inspections are still going and I trust that we'll pass certifications?" George asked as he looked at Benton.

"We should, Michael and I have made sure all of the fittings and machinery is up to code, the state inspectors will be back here tomorrow to look at the storage facilities, but so far they've not found much that was a show stopper," Benton replied.

"I think we are scheduled for our first shipments of chlorine and phosphine for the cutting processes in two weeks in time for the start up," Brett Long stated. Brett was also brought down from Charleston to manage the production operations and employees. He had been busy promoting the start of the plant around the area towns and interviewing applicants the last three weeks and had hardly been in the office.

"How is the recruiting coming?" George asked.

"Slow, there aren't a lot of qualified people in the surrounding areas, I've had to go further afield to the larger cities to find anyone, and at that I think I've only filled a quarter of the roster. Most won't move from where they are, and I don't blame them. We need to offer some sort of housing if we're going to attract qualified machinists and operators."

"We've got to get those people signed on, we can't certify until all positions are full. Come meet with me after this and we'll talk to Charleston and see what we can do to make the offer more palatable, I'm sure the company will do what it needs to, it's sunk enough into this operation already," George said.

"They'd better come up with something quick or we'll be pushing back our start," Bill added.

"You say you've got a quarter?" George asked.

"Yes, about ten people who have accepted offers and that has been it from a thirty mile radius. They're qualified machinists or ex Army Corps of Engineers types and don't have to relocate so that is a plus, we can at least get the skeleton crew started and the machines tested," Bill said as he closed his notebook. Bill Smoot had been brought down to recruit only and would be leaving once his project had been filled. Benton could tell he was anxious to get back home and away from the "sticks" as he called it.

The meeting dragged on as George fired out questions and the person responsible reported in like soldiers sent out on a mission. The room filled with smoke as the chain smokers went through stick after stick and the minutes turned to hours. Benton tried to look interested, but once he was finished reporting on the mechanics of where the machinery and the controls stood he lost interest in the other items of great interest to George. Aside from miscilaneous calibrations during the inspection process, there was not much for either he or Micheal to do. They had climbed all over each piece, inspected each control valve, fiddled with all the control panels and stations until they ran out of excuses to take something apart. Both had given up any pretense to even go out to the shop floor as the inspector would not be back for several more days.

"Oh, I'll be having a christmas party at my house christmas day, I hope all of you will be available to attend, I know Charlene has been pulling out all the stops for this one," George said and folded his own notebook closed indicating the end of the meeting. "George, come see me before you leave for the day also."

"Uh, ok," Benton hesitated. Bill Smoot and Brett Long both looked at him and whistled as they exited the conference room. Uneasy, Benton walked back to his office and closed the door behind him. It was too soon for it to be bad news or anything, but the nagging sense of foreboding wouldn't leave him. Unable to concentrate further with the doubt, Benton packed up his papers and opened his office door. Micheal was already gone for the day, his desk tidied up and in order and Benton noticed that Bill was also absent from his desk. Making his way to George's office he let himself in.

"George? What's on your mind?"

"Benton, so, do you think we'll be ready to go with the machinery?"

"So far everything checks out, it runs now. We'll have to see once we bring people in to run them and how they take to the safety proceedures," Benton replied.

"Well, we'll see if in these last few weeks we can get the rest of the positions filled. I got the company to agree to put people up in the Regent Hotel in Charleston until more suitable housing can be constructed here, the hotel will be ok for the next several months if we run with the minimum of crew," George said and scratched his temple.

"We'll have to watch how we staff it, people will get sloppy if they are working too many hours on the floor," Benton added.

"Right, we can open if we have eighty percent crew on the floor, put them up in the Regent and truck them down here for swing shifts then release them in waves to go back home for an extended weekend with family before repeating it. We don't have the houseing here to do it yet."

"I wouldn't do it for longer than a few months, even that will get old for most people, but I suppose if we offer enough men will do anything for the money."

"I'd imagine we'll go through people pretty quickly that way, but unless we have houses to offer them, the money will be the only incentive. If we have company houses we can pay less unless the people want to build, then the realty will be there to offer those services," George said and winked.

"I'd rather have the money," Benton said.

"This first wave will get a hefty wage for sure. Look, the real reason I wanted to talk was to find out about Theresa. How she adjusting?"

"Well, decent for suddenly going from a busy schedule to doing absolutely nothing every day," Benton responded.

"She miss running a buisness?"

"Somewhat, I think she's just bored here to be honest."

"Well, after talking with the big cheeses in Charleston I suggested to them that the best way to resolve our manpower issues for the next several years would be to subsidize a motel here, some place where the company knows visitors can check into and transient labor can be put up while they work away from home. It would be on an investment agreement, Petro-Chem fronting the money to build with a note to be repaid on operating expenses of course, but I think we have the land in the realty trust for it, we just need an owner operator for it. You think Theresa might want to take that on?"

"Oh, I don't really know. Selling the flowershop took a lot out of her, I don't really think she wanted to let go of it to move," Benton said sheepishly.

"Well, ask her about it. Petro-Chem will do it anyway but I wanted to give you the heads up on it, would rather have someone we know and trust running it than have someone come out of the woodwork to do it. You and Theresa were the first people I thought of when the topic came up a few days ago," George said and smiled.

"Well, I will certainly talk it over with her. She might just welcome the diversion. I think she has really missed running something on her own," Benton said.

"Good, let me know as soon as you can before Petro-Chem starts casting about on thier own for a company to run it," George said and stood.

"Ok, we'll do," Benton, taking the hint stood as well.

"See you on Christmas day?"

"Certainly, I don't know what else we'd be doing but trying to keep from freezing to death," Benton replied and laughed.