Page 3 of Backwater Justice

Patricia

For Patricia, Milton wasn’t like any other man she had met before. For one thing, he wasn’t a politician. For another, he wasn’t looking for favors. Maybe that was the same thing. Milton was a man with a mission that wasn’t “inside the Beltway.” She liked the idea that he was an ambitious young man; a man who had to earn his way, without the benefit of rich and influential parents, even though hers were exactly that. When it came to the dating pool, she had had enough of the pretentious posers in search of benefits for themselves or family members. For Patricia, Milton Spangler would be a good provider, especially if she had anything to do with it. She set her sights on him, and the two formed an alliance. It appeared they came to the same conclusion at the same time. Each of them would get what they wanted from their union. It wasn’t emotionless, but they each had something to gain from it.

As a wedding gift, Senator Wakeman bought the couple a piece of property in Mountain Valley, a suburb of Salem, with the unspoken understanding that it would be a wonderful place to raise a family. Two years later, they had their first child and named him Benjamin, after her grandfather, who had left her a tidy sum. Soon after, they broke ground to build their first house. It wasn’t quite a mansion yet, but was designed for future expansion. The senator saw to it.

Patricia returned frequently to Washington, D.C., to visit family and friends and enjoy social activity with high-puffery politicos. She couldn’t help herself. It was in her blood. The more often she visited, the more she was disenchanted with Salem. She needed a project and decided the family should have a vacation home on the Oregon coast. Bandon was the perfect choice. It took very little coaxing for Milton to agree, since his sister, her family, and his mother were there, and there was plenty of property to build a showcase home, as big and as lavish as the Salem residence. She decided it would have five bedrooms with en suite baths to accommodate weekend guests, family or otherwise. Milton gave her full control of the project, which eventually ran over a few million dollars. She had a professional photographer submit photos toArchitectural Digest, which ran a story about the senator’s daughter and her brilliant project, even though she had a team of designers work on it.

She planned a lavish housewarming party and rented another house for the guest list overflow. Her father thought it would be a good opportunity for a mingling of political rivals. Not that the gathering would encourage getting more done in Washington, but it would make a good story about politicians playing nice in the sandbox.

The Secretary of State, several congressmen, a handful of senators, and a federal judge were on the list. It made national news: “The grand hostess at her spectacular vacation home with the sensational view.” Nothing was mentioned as to who paid for the transportation, but some of Senator Wakeman’s rivals muttered it was the taxpayers. And they were back to the usual news cycle of name-calling, in-fighting, blaming, finger-pointing, and a whole lot of nothing getting done.

A year later, Oliver was born, an unplanned surprise to the family. Patricia was thirty-four. Patricia took it as a “sign” and Oliver was a “gift.” It was clear she connected with him more than she had with Benjamin. She coddled Oliver—something she’d never done with Benjamin. Milton thought she might be maturing.

With the difference in their son’s ages, it was natural that Benjamin spent time with his father while he waited for his younger brother to be old enough for them to enjoy activities together. But when Benjamin turned eighteen, his younger brother was only nine. It was going to be two decades before they were on the same page. If it ever happened.

Over the years, Milton and Patricia formed a mutual understanding, and a satisfactory relationship. They rarely argued. Milton simply let Patrica do whatever she wanted.

* * *

When Milton turned sixty-five, he began to delegate some of the operations to Benjamin, who took to the work like a duck to water. He had his father’s DNA and was equally sharp and insightful. Oliver was second in command and dabbled in the Cascade Inns and transportation end of the business.

With Benjamin at Milton’s side, the company continued to show profits, but there were times when Benjamin questioned some of his brother’s expenses. Oliver would give him a few lines of double-talk regarding negotiations, and Benjamin would look elsewhere in the company to cover the deductions.

But things began to get murky after the first fourteen-year-old went missing. Oliver denounced the reward, claiming it would focus too much attention on the family business. “We don’t need people picking through our rubbish for a story.” Milton wasn’t as concerned. He had nothing to hide. If anything, he wanted the family name to be cleared. It troubled him that the witness recalled a pickup truck with the company logo.

Milton decided to call a family meeting. He had a number of items to discuss. Oliver was the first to arrive in his father’s study, followed by Benjamin. Patricia came in to say hello, then turned and said, “I’ll leave you three to talk business.”

Milton picked up his half-filled glass of brandy. Oliver was having his favorite tequila. Within a half hour, Milton started to breathe heavily and complain about a pain in his chest. Moments later, he was going into convulsions. Benjamin called 911 and then loosened the collar of his father’s shirt. He was about to administer CPR when EMS arrived. After all, this was the Spangler family. All hands were on deck.

As Milton lay connected to tubes and wires in a hospital bed, he had time to reflect on the seventy-five years of his life. He thought back to the trips he and Benjamin had taken and drifted off to sleep, wondering if he would make it through the night.

CHAPTERTHREE

Benjamin Spangler

Benjamin was a curious child. He wanted to know how things were made. At six years old, he relished going to the lumberyards with his father, just as Milton did with his dad. Mill saw a lot of himself in his son. By the time Benjamin was twelve, he began taking scraps of two-by-fours to try making something. Anything. His first project was a stool that listed to one side. That’s when he discovered the use of a level. A few misses with the hammer caused shouts and black-and-blue fingernails, but he never whined or complained.

Patricia would sigh in frustration. She didn’t want her son to grow up to be a blue-collar carpenter. One afternoon while she was bemoaning her son’s future, Milton interrupted her. “Jesus was a carpenter.” She never uttered another word after that.

Besides woodworking, Ben had an ability to see the big picture. He learned by studying blueprints and was able to envision projects in three dimensions. As he grew older, he considered studying architecture, but business was also one of his interests. The best school was in Austin, Texas, but Benjamin had no interest in going that far south. Another option was Miami, which was also too many miles from home. He was accepted at Washington State University in Pullman, Washington, which suited him. It had a student population of 22,000, large enough to provide diversity without his having to leave the Pacific Northwest, a place where he wanted to stay.

Nowadays, Benjamin was a family man with a wife, Danielle, and three children, Logan, Addie, and Eva. Danielle had been an account executive at an advertising agency when she was assigned the Spangler account. She was twenty-six at the time and considered one of the brightest newcomers at the advertising firm. When she first met the Spanglers, she was prepared. She gave them an overview of how her firm could expand the Spangler Enterprises brand. She showed them a sketch for a new logo that was a die-cut fir tree, overlapped by a rooftop to signify the inns, and a wheel for the trucking line with the letters S.E.I. as the hub cap with the spokes tying all three together. The icon was surrounded by the slogan “Building a World Together.” Danielle also made several suggestions for increased community involvement. Milton was quite impressed, as was Benjamin. A year later, Danielle and Benjamin were married.

Shortly after the honeymoon, Milton offered Danielle the position of Director of Marketing for Spangler. With the increased visibility of S.E.I., the company had grown by leaps and bounds. Someone had to promote the company image. He wasn’t a fan of poaching employees, but in this case, it was a family matter, provided Danielle wanted to continue to work. She accepted the position and held it for two years until she and Benjamin had their first child, Logan.

Now, at forty-eight, Danielle was the mother of three teenagers: nineteen-year-old Logan, seventeen-year-old Addie, and fifteen-year-old Eva.

Benjamin’s kids were good students and active in sports. Logan had always been interested in computer science and was in his sophomore year at Stanford University. Addie was a high school senior and had been recently accepted at Pratt Institute in New York. Her plans were to pursue interior design. At fifteen, Eva was still on the fence between pursuing professional soccer and playing guitar.

They lived in a custom-built, four-thousand-square-foot, two-story home surrounded by nature’s beauty. The main level had floor-to-ceiling windows allowing the scenery to be the focus. Beautiful French doors opened to a wraparound deck for indoor-outdoor living and entertaining, with serene views of mountains and trees. The house was not at all ostentatious but beautifully appointed with simple lines and design.

On the second floor, each of the kids had their own room, with an adjoining bath for the girls to share. Growing up, Logan had a bathroom to himself, with a walk-in shower, which was just fine as far as the girls were concerned. They didn’t want boy cooties in their double-bowl vanity. The master suite included a stone fireplace, balcony, large marble-tiled bath, and dressing area.

The lower level of the house had a guest room and home office, and an ample entertainment area with a wet bar, pool table, and large-screen TV. It opened out to a meticulously landscaped yard and patio that surrounded a pool. On the opposite side was a pool house that served as Eva’s music room when she wasn’t playing soccer. It was a house that was built to live in and enjoy, not a museum piece on display.

Benjamin was like his father. He had a strong work ethic and was satisfied with an unpretentious vehicle. While his brother wore Rolex watches, Benjamin wore Seiko. Not that his wasn’t considered a luxury watch, but it cost ten thousand dollars less than his brother’s.

Benjamin rarely, if ever, pulled the S.E.I. card to get things done. He didn’t have to. People were always ready to please members of the family. The only time Benjamin or Danielle used the Spangler influence was to get donations for charity, such as the local animal rescue association, the children’s hospital, and the food pantry. Each year Danielle would chair fund-raising events for all three, and she made sure her children were involved. Community service was important, particularly if you had the means to do it. No one was allowed to take anything for granted. All in all, it was a relatively normal family, albeit a powerful one.

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