Blood Ties - A Magnolia Novel Read online

  All Olsen’s attempts to turn Nick into a “manly-man” were to no avail. Nick was never considered more than a puny wimp, gifted only with an unusual affinity for mathematics. He knew it was Olsen’s view of him, for it had been one of his favorite go-to expressions when drunk.

  During the first few years of marriage, Nick watched Olsen struggle to provide for his new family. Nick’s mother, Marjorie, did her best to keep a clean house, extend the life of their clothes with countless patches, and fix meals they could eat without choking on. When Nick complained about his outfits or the bland meals, his mother reminded him once his stepfather finished night school, things would improve. She told Nick so many times he lost count about how he should be proud of the fact his stepfather was going to school for free, courtesy of the GI Bill he earned while serving in the Second World War. A big smile would appear on his mother’s face as she gabbed about how wonderful life would be, once her husband finally obtained his contractor’s license.

  When Olsen did get his license, he lucked into a primo job: construction superintendent for John Flynt, owner of B & I Construction. According to a conversation Nick overheard his mother having one day with his grandmother, John Flynt had a reputation as a stern businessman with a quick temper. He was the kind of man who would sell his own house if the right price was offered. Nick’s mother balked at first when Olsen took the job, since her new husband was cut from the exact same cloth. She worried the two, strong-willed men would butt heads. It didn’t take too long for her worries to disappear.

  Olsen kept telling his little family he just knew Flynt wanted him to take over the business when he was ready to retire. Said he felt like the old man was grooming him, since both of Flynt’s two young daughters were “air-headed dimwits.” Olsen had a habit of crashing at night in front of the television, usually with a beer in his hand, after a long day working with his hands. Nick’s mom would gush and coo, telling Nick they would never eat like paupers again. And soon, very soon, their clothes would come from fine department stores, not the local Goodwill.

  Sure enough, everything changed the night when Olsen stumbled home, drunker than ever. Olsen rolled around on the couch, a big, stupid grin on his face, and told his embarrassed wife and shocked stepson about his crazy evening.

  “Me, Flynt and Darryl Johns, you know, Flynt’s accountant, stopped by like we always do for a few shots of Jack Daniels at The Red Dog Saloon. Darryl and Flynt were busy yappin’, so I didn’t pay much attention, until I saw this crazy look on Flynt’s face. It was like he was sucked in to the words Darryl was sayin’. So, I perked my own ears up. The topic on the table was gettin’ into a ground floor business venture created by the U.S. government. Darryl called it affordable housing for senior citizens. Said it was somethin’ different than the standard nursin’ home.”

  While fixing him a stout cup of coffee, Marjorie asked, “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with Flynt’s construction business? Or you, for that matter?”

  Olsen laughed and nearly fell out of the chair. He pulled a small notepad from his pocket. “Woman, I ain’t done with my story yet. I was so confused at first myself, I took notes. Let’s see, oh, yeah, Darryl said…”

  Nick had gone to bed, rather than listening to Olsen drone on. But as things changed in the Olsen household and the money poured in, Nick decided to investigate this new business venture his stepfather was immersed in. He spent hours researching in the school library. He discovered in 1965, the government started Medicare and Medicaid. The U.S. Department of Aging had created a division called Operation Medicare Alert, which employed teams of older Americans to inform isolated elders about the new financial benefits available to them.

  In 1969, President Richard Nixon’s administration began the Supplemental Security Income program, which was geared to augment a senior’s finances when they reached the age of sixty-five. Senior men and women had a financial windfall to add to their savings to assist them to live more comfortably as they aged. When one added in the military benefits provided to soldiers and their spouses or widows, those additional funds enhanced their financial portfolio in their retirement years.

  The more Nick studied, the more excited he became. As a numbers freak, he could see the potential for making a killing. He understood why Flynt’s business was booming. Their business concept of providing housing for seniors who were no longer able to physically maintain the interior and exterior of their homes was pure genius. Retirement communities, rental housing complexes designed for older adults who were generally able to care for themselves, were beginning to sprout up all over America, and Flynt wanted to get in on the ground floor. The communities provided three meals per day, housekeeping services, activities and socialization opportunities. If a senior needed additional assistance, they could enlist help from a home care agency, at an additional cost.

  Even as a teenager, Nick drooled about the revenue generated by senior communities. Everything from developing the home care services business from top to bottom, all a la carte, so the resident did not need to relocate to a nursing home, was a cash cow. He was fascinated by the statistics of projected need by senior citizens for such an alternative living option. Offering those services, as well as financial projections of owning the land and constructing the property oneself, would be a business goldmine.

  For everyone associated with B & I Construction, it was like winning the lottery.

  Olsen was in charge of all the construction aspects at first, since he really didn’t understand all the intricate details. When Nick approached Olsen and told him he’d like to help, at first Olsen laughed, reminding him of the ladder fiasco. However, when Nick sat down with him and showed him all his mathematical calculations, things changed. That moment at the kitchen table changed the relationship dynamic between stepfather and stepson. Olsen was impressed by the crafty ways Nick found to make even more money, and smiled. He’d slapped Nick’s back with a hardy wallop, and said, “The country keeps producing people over sixty-five faster and faster each year! It’s an unending supply of cash walking onto our properties!”

  For the remainder of Nick’s childhood, thankfully, he didn’t see much of his stepfather. The man was constantly traveling, overseeing the construction of new communities. Olsen was consumed with making money. He spent nearly two years straight in Oregon, which nearly caused Nick’s mom to go out of her mind. When Olsen did fly home for a weekend or call during the week, Nick overheard their conversations. Olsen would remind Marjorie that Flynt owned a number of pieces of undeveloped land throughout the State of Oregon, and they were working hard to follow all the building criteria and licensing regulations required. If they didn’t dot every I and cross all their T’s, all the hard work would be for nothing. Marjorie’s worries ended when Olsen started sending large sums of money home.

  When home, Olsen strutted around like a proud peacock, bragging about the fact there wasn’t another developer in Oregon considering taking on such a new and untried business venture. What he was working on was groundbreaking, and once the kinks and bugs were worked out in Oregon, could easily be repeated anywhere.

  While Nick was in college, things almost blew up when John Flynt found out he was dying. Years of inhaling unfiltered cigarettes and dust from his construction job sites had taken their toll on his body. The first three communities in Oregon were up and running, and four more were in development in Arkansas and three in Texas. But Flynt’s failing health wouldn’t allow him to travel any longer, and the medication he was on screwed up his mental state. He sold the properties in Oregon to Jubilee Retirement for a shitload of cash. At the age of fifty-nine, John Flynt handed the keys to his construction company over to William Olsen, and gave him fifty-percent ownership in the company he formed to run the properties, Happy Days Retirement, Inc.

  From 1980 to 1999, when they constructed their 100th retirement property in the U.S., business didn’t just boom, it ka-boomed. Nick graduated college with a degree in finance in
the mid-80s, so Olsen brought him on board as COO. Nick’s financial maneuvering pushed the business ethics to the red line, but took Happy Days Retirement, Inc., to the level of a multi-billion dollar institution.

  However, Nick considered himself woefully under-appreciated and compensated. Plus, he couldn’t stand the way his stepfather treated him around the other employees. After all, the cash rolled in by the truckloads because of his financial finagling, not Olsen’s. One day at work, a new plan formed. The other fifty-percent of the company was owned by Teri Flynt. Her sister had died in a car accident several years before, leaving the shy, introverted woman with long, brown hair and a bland face, and not much in the brain department, in charge of half of the company. Teri Flynt never balked or questioned the decisions made by Olsen or Nick. She only came to the office once a month to pick up her check.

  The light bulb went off when Nick caught her looking at him in a way she never had before. When it dawned on him Teri was attracted to him, Nick pounced. It was the ultimate career move. He’d wine and dine the woman until she agreed to marry him, and when Olsen died, they would own one-hundred percent of the company. Though hatched through deceit and for a completely different reason, while Nick courted and wooed Teri, he surprised himself when he fell in love with her. It took two years, but when they finally walked down the aisle, Nick was the happiest man on earth.

  His life changed, for a while, when Olsen died. For a few years, Nick enjoyed being the big man at Happy Days. Teri stayed home with the kids, and he had the freedom to run the company as he deemed fit. Of course, it didn’t last long, all because of one, ill-fated trip to Illinois.

  Oh, if I could just go back to one moment in time and not make that trip to Chicago…

  Things went from horrible to downright unlivable not long after. Being in bed with a mobster was never something Nick could have foreseen. Nick had just been blind and greedy, drooling like a Pavlov dog at the staggering amounts of money Caesar Calvanio had access to–all from “private” investors who wouldn’t care about the shady, underhanded dealings conducted by Happy Days. Before he could really grasp what was happening, Caesar Calvanio swooped in and devoured Nick’s soul. In one bite.

  On top of the nightmare of knowing his ass was owned by a mobster, business was starting to falter. Not because of the side body parts sector. That arena was booming. When headlines across the nation screamed about a California jury awarding close to twenty-five million dollars to a family of an eighty-seven year old woman abuse victim, things changed. The civil suit followed on the heels of the criminal case, where the owners of Jubilee Retirement were convicted of manslaughter. Jubilee spent millions on a slew of top-notch lawyers on both cases, but it didn’t matter. Soon after the verdict, TV stations started showing interviews with family members and former employees of Jubilee with sickening rapidity over every news outlet coast to coast.

  The horrifying details of how a lady resident was cruelly neglected by the staff at the senior property outraged listeners. Photos of the large numerous bed sores covering the senior lady’s buttocks and back were leaked to the press by one caregiver, who had begged the managers to transport the woman to the hospital. Her request fell on deaf ears and, during her tear-stained interview on Current State! she cried, “They actually told me to mind my own damn business. My manager said the company couldn’t afford the loss of revenue if she moves out.”

  Jurors were interviewed by reporters, stating they were shocked and deeply angered by the testimony brought out at trial. They bemoaned the systemic understaffing and a lack of care training. They mentioned how it seemed Jubilee’s retention policies were designed to keep heads in the beds, putting profits above the care of their residents. Another juror, a retired teacher, said she, and other jurors, were stunned to learn in the punitive phase of the trial that Jubilee hadn’t paid any federal income taxes in three years, despite balance sheets that showed annual revenues climbing to $1.25 billion, profits reaching $116 million and a stock market valuation soaring to $1.34 billion.

  Calls for immediate government investigation and new rules governing the senior industry were trumpeted by politicians seeking re-election, as well as senior advocacy groups. These same groups had been warning the states for years of these types of egregious care failures in the larger companies, some who owned hundreds of senior communities. Jubilee’s financially aggressive property acquisitions, which totaled in the hundreds of millions of dollars, were spotlighted by the family’s attorneys as proof the company was more interested in expanding their empire than providing proper care services to their residents.

  Nick rubbed his grumbling stomach at the memory. He read online two weeks ago Jubilee’s attorneys filed appeal. The case was a business nightmare of epic proportions for Nick’s business. Happy Days Retirement’s financials suffered as many of the adult children of his communities immediately relocated their loved ones, and the fall in monthly revenue made his ulcer twitch with painful spasms.

  A car horn from behind him brought him out of his funk. Nick pulled forward and struggled to find his voice to request a wire transfer from the impatient teller. Irritated, she informed him he would need to come inside. He groaned.

  This day just can’t get any worse.

  13

  Learning from Past Mistakes

  “I can’t believe you did so much today, sweetie! I wish you woulda told me you planned on bein’ outside, though. You’ve got so many bug bites, it looks like you’ve got the pox! Next time you are gonna work outside, I’ll give you my secret weapon against those nasty bugs: Skin-so-Soft. Works like a charm, keeps your skin smooth, and smells good. Now, hold still while I put this poultice on you.”

  LiAnn stifled a laugh watching grandmother slather granddaughter’s neck, shoulders and arms with the white concoction. It looked like cocaine paste. The look of embarrassment on Karina’s face was hysterical.

  When the first dollop was applied, Karina wiggled her nose in disgust. “Ugh, that reeks Gram. What’s in this magic potion of yours? Skunk oil?”

  Ruth smiled as she continued to cover Karina’s neck. “Never you mind child. I’ve gotta teach you to cook before I start sharin’ my medical potions with you. Just hold still. In a few minutes, the smell will disappear, and you’ll be thankin’ me once the itchin’ stops.”

  “Let me see your thumb, honey,” Junior interrupted.

  With a sheepish look on her face, Karina held up her swollen thumb. She shot LiAnn a look that screamed “help me.” LiAnn turned her face away and busied herself with setting the table for dinner before she burst out laughing.

  “Ouch!” Karina yelled, jerking her hand back. “I’m…it’s okay Grampa. Nothing is broken, I promise. Just split my thumbnail. It’ll grow back. I’ll just wrap it up and make sure to baby it for a few days.”

  Junior patted Karina’s shoulder. “Honey, I appreciate everythin’ you did today and am pleasantly surprised by all the hard work you put in. But I can’t bask in the excitement for too long, knowin’ you injured yourself in the process. You ain’t used to farm work, so let’s talk about the best way to tackle the next project before you start, okay?”

  LiAnn saw red seep into her daughter’s cheeks, so she intervened. “You missed an interesting visit today at The Magnolia. The place is simply spectacular. It was like walking back in time. When we toured the gardens, I almost expected to see ladies in long gowns holding umbrellas over their heads as they sipped tea. Don’t see architecture like it anymore. There is a three-story staircase made of teak that is breathtaking. Oh, and get this: they even have art lessons every Tuesday and Thursday of each week. Free of charge to non-residents, as long as you bring your own supplies. And the man teaching the class has years of art experience. I know how much you love to paint, so you need to come with us next Tuesday. Did you leave out your painting stuff, or is it in storage?”

  Karina faked a smile as she left the table. “Really? Now there’s a first. An art room with a teacher w
ho knows what he’s doing? This I’ve got to see. And yes, my art box is in storage. Got to make a trip there this weekend. I think I left some of Ranger’s toys in one of the boxes, too. If I don’t retrieve it, he will eat all of our shoes before the end of the week.”

  Junior let out a snort. “Oh, don’t let your ma get you all riled up about it. Yeah, it’s a nice place and the room has perfect lightin’ to paint by, but that ain’t the reason your ma wants to go back. It surely ain’t.”

  “Really?” Karina arched an inquisitive brow. “Oh, do tell, Grampa. I’m tired of being the topic of conversation for my lack of outdoor skills.”

  “Pop!” LiAnn wrinkled her nose “Seriously? What are you talking about?”

  A huge grin spread across Junior’s face, followed by a coy wink at Karina. “First day out in public and your ma done found her a suitor. One who’s quite enamored with her, too. I believe I overheard lunch plans for next week bein’ made before we left.”

  “Junior, enough!” Ruth exclaimed.

  Karina laughed. “Oh, Gram, not even close to enough! Mom has a date? Already? Must be the blonde hair and those huge boo…”

  LiAnn cut Karina’s words off before she finished. “All right, Karina Ruby, that is enough! Pop, I don’t have a date with Jimmy! He will just be joining us at lunch on Tuesday with Cecil, and he offered to have Karina and I attend his painting class. That’s it! Suitor. Pft!”

  “Jimmy? On a first name basis after just one day? I’d say he’s a suitor for sure,” Karina joked, and then laughed out loud. “Does this Jimmy have a last name, or should I just start calling him Daddy?”

  LiAnn slammed the last plate on the table, indicating the topic of discussion needed to be dropped.

  Enjoying the banter, Junior said, “Now sugar, don’t ya go gettin’ all excited about rilin’ your ma up about her new love life. That would be like the pot callin’ the kettle black.”