My latest book, Whispering Woods, is about a New England inn, the people who run it, those who visit, and those whose lives are affected by Cathy and Phil Baxter. It begins in NYC where the power couple is caught up in the “rat race” and the final impetus for leaving is the tragedy of 9.11. Here’s that part of the story:
part of Chapter 5
“So, what’s up?” she queried, tucking herself under his embracing arm.
“No, you first. How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual. I finally got to do my presentation at 4:30, as predicted. Only a few tweaks needed to finalize it…coupla minor details Ole Man Stiles suggested. I always let him have the last word. Sorta empowers him. Funny how we kowtow. Maybe after I’ve done it another twenty years I’ll hate it. Right now, it’s how to play the game. No permanent harm to my psyche or my pride just yet.”
“Perfect segue, Sweet Darlin’. How you would like to give up this rat race and literally head for the hills?”
“Huh? Whadya sayin’? she quizzically glanced at his smiling profile?
“You know I talked with JS a little while ago, right? Well. . . he owns this awesome property in the Berkshires, near Gt. Barrington. It’s close to the camp where you spent your summers, remember?
“Those were great times, Honey. I just loved it there, and every year when Dad’s chauffeur arrived Labor Day, I cried. Hated leaving my only real friends, and my horse, and the sweet air and sunshine. Can’t wait til our kids are old enough to go to the country.” She sipped her wine with that far-away look he loved. “Sorry, I digress. Tell me more.”
“Anyway,” Phil hugged her, “he’s newly divorced, just itching to leave it all behind and retire to warmer climes. He wants me to have first dibs. The land, the buildings, the ski slope. I’m thinking the world’s best resort-retreat you could ever imagine.”
“Huh? Really? You weren’t kiddin’. Head for the hills? You know that’s where my dreamed-up roots are. Are you serious? You want to leave all this?” She gestured, sloshed her wine almost to the glass’s brim, arms spread wide in a dramatic visual sweep.
“I downloaded his stuff to my computer. Let me show you what a goldmine he’s got there. You won’t believe this place.” Grabbing his IPad, and hopefully her attention, he began in earnest an informal presentation he hoped would impress Cathy as he usually wowed his clients.
“I’m thinkin’ this place is so fabulous, I just can’t get it out of my head. Yeah, we’d be paper-poor for a while, but this place has such potential; we can work together for a change, making our own future. Let me show you this property.” Cathy thought, I’ve never seen him this excited, especially at the end of a grueling Monday.
“Here’s what JS showed me. He worked up a whole presentation to sell me this place. He tells me no one else even knows he’s considering selling it.”
J.S. Robbins never does things in understatement. His trademark logo filled the screen. J.S.’s deep bass voice boomed: “Whispering Woods is a destination.” Then the film began. A helicopter flyover, then a dashboard cam weaving through a tree-lined private road, then the voiceover description. What a set up! “Four hundred sixty acres of gorgeous undeveloped forest, complete with New England charm, outdoor beauty, rambling garden walks, a huge elegant Victorian farmhouse, a barn with stables, what could be better? In a coupla weeks, the colors will be just gorgeous, and in the winter, it’s a Grandma Moses painting. Ya won’t believe your eyes!
“Ah, yes, also for winter, tow-rope to three slopes, a popular rustic ski lodge which services skiers who already flock there, by invitation only, of course. Terrific!
“This is the private retreat you’ve been dreaming about, haven’t you? A complete package, just waiting for a new owner’s personal touch. Work from home, if indeed work is what you must do.
“New England lifestyle beats anything the City can offer. Laid back, scenic, just blooming with gorgeous landscaping, a cozy farmhouse. It’s got it all! What do you think, Phil? Want to take me up on this? Offer stands at six million guaranteed until September 20th at midnight. I want it to be yours.”
“Whadya think? Can we get away this weekend to go see it? Anything pressing? I’m really excited about this, as if you can’t tell already! We’ve got a ten-day option, that’s it. Then he shows it to the also-rans.”
“Wow. It looks beautiful. You know I love upstate. Gotta admit, it’s always been my dream to bring up our kids where they can run around outdoors, ride horses, climb trees, kinda like summers when I grew up. Mom shipped me off to camp to get me out of her hair. Didn’t miss the city at all! I just loved it. Wow! It’s growing on me.”
“Well, Sweetie. Here’s what I’m thinkin’. I think we could turn this into an awesome resort. Can’t you just see it? We can indeed make Whispering Woods a destination, and use it to bless other people Elegant but rustic hospitality.”
“Oh, Phil! I love it when you help me dream big. I’d just love that!”
“Yeh, really? I thought I’d have to sell you on it, and here you are, my sweet darling, jumping on board just like I hoped you would. I’m just brimming with ideas of how to make this work!
Let’s pray about it, whadya say?”
Clasping hands, Phil began: “Loving Heavenly Father. You know we weren’t looking for a change. We are so blessed by our life here that You have provided. But somehow, you always surprise us with your ideas, so much bigger than we could even imagine. Is this one of Your plans for us? Would you guide and direct us with clear and certain signs that this is of You, and not just a way for J.S. to sell real estate. He’s so good at that, and yet, why, I’m wondering, would he approach us with this, clear out of the blue, when we least expected it?
“Lord, we know You direct our pathways. We’ve always trusted You to love us providentially. You have given us blessing upon blessing, abundance we have no reason to expect except that You love us and ask us to serve you with what we are and what we have. And so, Dear Heavenly Father, make clear our pathways. We don’t know yet what you have in store for us, but we leave this in Your hands. Lead us, give us peace about any decisions we make, and if it is Your will, we expect your guidance and direction. In the blessed name of Precious Jesus, Our Savior, Amen.”
“Guess we know why you created that guest services program the rest of the world loves. Maybe we get to use it. Whadya think?” she demurred, obviously proud of his innovation.
“God’s sense of preparation is just awesome. If it didn’t exist, we’d have to invent it. Imagine that! I already did, and all the bugs have been worked out so it’s been field tested and found to be everything I advertised it to be. Who knew?”
“‘K, Sweetie, let’s get some shut eye, whadya say?”
“Sounds like a plan. When dya want to leave?”
“Suppose I call J.S. and ask him to meet us up there for a tour. You have anything pressing on Friday? I think I can clear my schedule. We’ll make a long weekend of it. I’ll text you in the morning and then we can arrange with Gramma Jean to come along and help with the kids. O.K?”
“We do have that art show gala thing we’re supposed to attend on Saturday, but we certainly don’t need to be seen. I could care less about another Guggenheim event. I’ll get to wear my new Vera Wang another day!”
They clicked their glasses, finished their wine, closed the drapes on the City skyline, padded off to their luxurious suite, and dreamed dreams of what might be their new future.
CHAPTER 6
Tuesdays always seemed to be smoother than Mondays at the Baxter house. Gramma Jean made pancakes, so everyone eagerly dashed to the table, dressed and ready, answering the beckoning aroma of crisp bacon. Yummo!
After their prayer for the day, called to the sizzle of batter on the hot griddle and giggles, Jean made Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes complete with a bow tie for Michael’s Mickey and hair ribbons for Kelsey’s Minnie. After the children were fully engaged in their breakfast treat, Phil was ready to ask Jean about her weekend plans.
Jean, eager anytime for adventure, assured them her calendar was free for the asking, and she agreed to go north with the family. Perhaps sometime during the weekend she would have time to tell her employers about her housing crisis, looming ever closer. She knew she’d have to make a decision soon.
Today Phil and Cathy walked hand-in-hand toward the Metro station, chatting excitedly about what could be a life-changing decision they were about to make. The day seemed full of promise at 8:00 on that beautiful September eleventh morning. Until…
Cathy had just finished these verses in Psalm 31:
21 Praise be to the Lord, for he showed me the wonders of his love when I was in a city under siege.22 In my alarm I said,“I am cut off from your sight!”Yet you heard my cry for mercy
when I called to you for help.23 Love the Lord, all his faithful people! The Lord preserves those who are true to him, but the proud he pays back in full.24 Be strong and take heart,all you who hope in the Lord. (Biblegateway, NIV)
As she began to pray, she looked out the office window to the west; she saw to her horror, a low-flying plane crash into World Trade Center #1.
With a shout, she alerted others who came running to see flames shooting out of a cavernous hole. Almost in slow motion, it seemed to them, a few minutes later, a second plane flew into lower floors of Trade Center Tower #2. Gasps and tears and shouts and exclamations of pain and unbelief. Had they really witnessed what they thought they’d seen?
By now billowing smoke poured from the buildings. Immediately, Cathy called Phil, whose office was slightly to the north. Televisions showed disaster in the making. His first thought was safety. He called Jean and told her to get the children as far away as she could, but to keep in touch with him. She had just dropped Michael off at school. The principal and teachers were quickly alerted to evacuate the building and take the children to PS 41 in Greenwich Village. Grabbing Kelsey, Gramma Jean immediately returned to PS 234 and helped the teachers evacuate the children several blocks away where they were more sure of the children’s safety. She called Cathy to tell her where they were and that they were safe. By then, around 10:00, smoke was billowing, papers were littering the streets, and a cacophony of sound blasted their ears. Herding several hundred children was no small task, but danger brings an adrenaline rush which proved just the energetic push they needed. That and a real need for getting away from what was becoming a chaotic scene. No place for children.
Both Phil and Cathy’s offices closed for the day as workers scrambled to get to their loved ones. Forget the subways; no service. Phil immediately called Roberts, ordered him to get to Cathy’s office and get her to PS 41 to comfort the children.
After heroic efforts, using every bit of his vast knowledge of streets and alleys to accomplish that task, Roberts then made his way to Phil’s office to rescue him. The family was reunited, but told by police to stay put at PS 41. That would likely be their shelter until further notice.
So, they, like other resilient New Yorkers, made the best of an awful situation. Vowing to keep their children away from television coverage, Phil and Cathy helped the teachers entertain the children in their new surroundings. They even stepped in as the cafeteria workers prepared meals for their usual students plus hundreds of newcomers. Roberts was put to work carrying dazed walkers to safety on ferry boats, to the park in lower Manhattan, and helping first responders get as close as possible to the site. The gorgeous Rolls, pride of Phil’s life and his, was covered with layers of dust and ash, and was now packed with riders who looked more like ghosts than the well-put-together workers who usually inhabited Wall Street and the classy workplaces in the area. Only when the gas tank was noticeably heading for the red did he return to PS 41, joining with others who were caring for little ones away from home. He had done a yeoman’s task, as many others had done, on this eventful day.
Phil called the Super at their residence, anxious to know if the building had sustained damage, whether the power was on, inquiring about the possibility of returning home. Maxwell told him the streets were closed off, littered inches deep with refuse from the building collapses, and that thick toxic smoke enveloped the entire area. Phil wisely decided to keep his family safely where they were, and requested that someone be dispatched to the penthouse to feed Pixie. Max assured him that generators were allowing the elevators to work, and that he would personally attend to Pixie’s safety as long as he needed to, until the family could return. He would, as usual, protect their assets, although he soon discovered, the penthouse balconies were strewn with refuse and layers of debris. What a mess! He told them the streets were blocked off, credentials were necessary to prove pedestrians lived on the blocks where they were, and access to the area was cordoned off and blockaded. He kept their contact information and was pleased that they had somewhere to go. The events of the day created havoc for area workers, residents, businesses, indeed the world.
Telling Roberts he’d need the Rolls for the next week or so, Phil called JS to set a date to visit Whispering Woods the next day. The family left with just the clothes on their backs, drove up the West Side Highway northward, and left the scene of the worst national terrorist disaster in history behind them. The children thought they were just taking another of many frequent vacations.
Following a necessary shopping trip in White Plains, the family booked a suite of hotel rooms for the night. They wished Jean a good night, although the adults would sleep little, and gave strict admonitions to protect the children from TV coverage and conversation about the day’s events.
After the children were soundly asleep, Phil and Cathy watched television coverage of what was clearly a dangerous and tragic scene. Weeping, Cathy thought about colleagues who worked in those buildings; several PR firms, advertisers, clients, and contacts she’d fostered over the years, worked in that complex. She feared for their lives and welfare.
Phil wondered out loud how the structures could simply collapse like that. What happened to the built- in fire shields, the state-of-the-art sprinkler systems, the structural steel mandated to withstand fire, and the buildings’ designs? Of course, given the heat of burning jet fuel, could any building withstand that assault? The implications for architecture were daunting.
Like all America, indeed worldwide, they were glued to television coverage of the day’s events. In picture after picture of their neighborhood, they saw their building and their beloved St. Paul’s Chapel, now a refuge, a shrine, and a place of mercy.
They watched in horror the repeated shots Cathy had witnessed first-hand, of planes targeting those doomed World Trade Center Towers, and the devastation to the surrounding smaller buildings of the once-beautifully-conceived outbuildings. They cried, watching people they knew, fleeing the scene through layers of paper, debris, ashes, and smoke-clouds. Sobered, they knew their Metro complex would not operate again, thinking about all the days they’d taken that service for granted as they headed back and forth to work.
They heard Michael’s principal interviewed, and rejoiced that they had been involved in shepherding children away from the danger to safety at PS 41. That school was now housing refugees, and the strong volunteer efforts of hundreds of others showed the resiliency that harried human-interest reporters were trying to showcase, filling cable news stations with fresh insight into the changing tableau. None of them had ever witnessed a live story like this one.
As their sweet children slept peacefully near them in a borrowed too large hotel bed, protected from the graphic scenes Cathy and Phil and the rest of the world watched. They too were sucked into the captivating whirlpool that grasped them and wouldn’t let them get away. Cathy and Phil held hands and prayed. “Dear Lord, Protector, Shield, Defender, and Lover of our Souls, we come to You, Abba Father. We know You are Sovereign; we know you love us with unconditional love because You have called us to You. Help us to understand this tragedy. Help us to serve your grand purpose in all of this. Help us to focus on Your direction. Help us to follow the plan you have laid out before us.
“We pray comfort for the bereaved, rescue for those still trapped in the rubble, wise counsel for our leaders and those in authority, strength for the responders and the countless volunteers who are showing loving brotherhood for others, and rest for the weary. We pray your comfort on our coworkers, on our friends who are bewildered, on our Nation, and on our neighborhood so devastated by this tragedy.
“Most of all, we thank you for our safety and for the guidance you are providing. Is this, Lord, direction for us to begin our new life in a new place? We pray for peaceful sleep, even as our children sleep, and help us to shield them from the tragedy which has brought us to this place. Amen.”
Thankful that they had options, they assured each other that their new life upstate was looking more and more promising. Rightly, they both predicted dire consequences to the business scene on Wall Street, and feared for their own personal business fortunes as a result of this dreadful occurrence which had shattered the lives of so many.
The book is available from LifeRich Publishers, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com in paperback and ebook formats. See the book trailer at https:??www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pz_MptVkiKY
About the Author
