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“Why don’t we build an extra floor? Or maybe a couple extra floors? After all, once you’ve got your contractor nailed down, and your architect, it’s not going to cost you a lot more money to add a few more walls and windows.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Mom, as she took a tentative spoonful of oatmeal pudding and nodded appreciatively, giving her daughter a nod of approval.

“Well, if we build another three or four extra floors, we can rent them out and make some extra money is what I was thinking.” When Dad started protesting, she held up her hand and yelled over him, “It’s sound business sense, Tex!”

“It’s impossible,” said Chase, shaking his head.

“Another naysayer,” said Gran acidly. “See what I gotta deal with?” she asked her granddaughter. “One person in this family who’s got all the brilliant ideas, and a bunch of negative nellies who can’t wait to tear ‘em down. So please tell me why it’s impossible?”

“Because local zoning ordinances won’t allow you to build those extra stories.”

“And why is that?”

“Because. You can’t build an apartment block in this neighborhood—you just can’t.”

“Says who?”

“Says the zoning laws!”

“I’m afraid Chase is right, Ma,” said Mom. “You can’t build apartments here. It’s not allowed.”

“I don’t get it. It’s our land. Why can’t we build whatever we want to build on it?”

“Because you just can’t, all right!” Dad exploded.

“It’s to do with urban planning,” Odelia explained for her grandmother’s sake. “If everybody just built whatever they wanted, things would quickly look a mess. This is a neighborhood of family homes, and an apartment block will stick out like a sore thumb.”

“And our neighbors would complain it blocks their view,” Mom added. “Or that the sewage system or electric grid or the water supply wasn’t built for all those extra units. And so it needs to stay the way it was originally planned by the zoning commission.”

Gran’s face had taken on a mulish look, and she said, “We’ll see about that.”

“No, we won’t,” said Dad. “I don’t want to live in an apartment. I want to live in my own house, and not have to deal with a bunch of tenants.”

“What you’re really saying is that you don’t like money, Tex,” Gran pointed out.

“I don’t want to be a landlord!”

“See? You don’t like money. But I do, and I think I can make this happen.”

Dad made a scoffing sound and returned to reading his newspaper.

“No, I think I can. It’s all about making the impossible possible, and that’s what I’m all about.” She took another bite from her toast then dropped it on her plate. “I’m going golfing, and while I’m at it I’m going to be networking the hell out of all of those movers and shakers.I’m bound to hit on someone on that zoning thing who’ll be only too happy to give me the permit I need.” She wagged her finger in her son-in-law’s face. “I’m gonna be winning friends and influencing the hell out of those people. Just you wait and see.”

The moment she was gone, the four remaining members of the Poole family all shared startled looks.

“You don’t really think she’ll do it, do you?” asked Dad.

“I’m afraid she just might,” said Mom.

“But I don’t want to own a bunch of apartments,” said Dad. “I just want to have my own home back, just the way it was before it got destroyed.”

“And you will,” said Mom. “No way is she going to get permission to build an extra couple of floors. And besides, even if she did, we’re the owners, honey. My mother can’t apply for a permit without our permission.” She cast an uncertain look at her daughter. “Can she?”

“I’m not sure,” said Odelia. “She’s not a co-owner, is she?”

“No, she’s not,” said Dad decidedly. “She may live with us, but we never signed anything over to her. We’re the owners, so she doesn’t have a say in this—none.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Chase, always the voice of reason in any family crisis. “First off, she’ll never get permission, not without the say-so of the owners of the house, and not without the council breaking its own zoning laws, and secondly, if by some small miracle she does manage to get a permit somehow, you’ll simply put a stop to it as soon as she does.” He shrugged. “Who’s paying the bills for this renovation? You or she?”

“Why, we are, of course,” said Dad, looking a little less glum already.

“See? Problem solved. It’s the person who controls the purse strings who decides.”

“Though it would be nice to make some extra money,” said Mom suddenly, causing her husband to give her a startled look.

“Not you too!” he cried.

Mom smiled and patted her husband on the arm.“Don’t worry, honey. I’m kidding!”

Dad put his hand to his heart and said,“I think I just had a heart palpitation.”

“Do you want me to get you a doctor, Dad?” Chase quipped.

But Dad wasn’t smiling. In fact he looked like he always did when Gran came up with another one of her cockamamie ideas. And somehow Odelia had a feeling the fever hadn’t yet passed. And it wouldn’t pass until the house that Mom and Dad were building had actually been built—which hopefully would be very soon!

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