sample chapter

"Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink nor

slumber nor a roof against the rain ...."

...Edna St. Vincent Millay

Halsie and I first met when she and I were both heavily involved in the construction or reconstruction of our homes. We commiserated. We complained. We provided encouragement to each other. She had purchased an undeveloped plot of land outside the city and I was gutting and remodeling a very old house within one of the nicer village neighborhoods. Unfortunately, we were both referred to the same contractor by the same realtor and we both nibbled at the same bait.

Moving to another country, we were enthusiastic about beginning a new life. Full of hope and dreams, visions of sugarplums danced in our heads. It's my nature to trust until someone proves himself or herself untrustworthy. It had been a long time since I'd talked to Halsie and I was anxious to see her finished home and find out how she'd adjusted.

It was dusk when I pressed the bell, located tip-toe height on a brick wall smothered with burgundy bougainvillea. A maid escorted me into Halsie's magnificent Mexican hacienda. I felt like I'd been transported from Mexico into a gracious New England home. The juxtaposition of her tapestry upholstered wingback chair against a background of Mexican-style brick archways shouldn't have worked, but it did.

A captivating bronze sculpture of a mermaid, seated off-center on the rosewood coffee table, complemented her mahogany framed paintings of New England and the sea.

Halsie swaggered in, short-cropped silver hair and deep facial lines proudly proclaiming her seventy-one years. She was fit with an almost athletic build. Her cotton T-shirt made no attempt to camouflage a double mastectomy.

"I don't give a hoot for prostheses or pretensions," she said. "I'm like Popeye. What you sees is what you gets." She smiled a sage old smile and winked, I think, at my discomfort.

"We'll have some wine on the veranda while we watch the sunset. It's not to be missed." Without waiting for a reply, Halsie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a carafe of wine and elegant crystal goblets on an old English silver platter. We sat on wrought iron chairs, around a small Mexican leather-topped table. Birds chirped as water gurgled from a three-tier cement fountain in the center of her courtyard. She poured us each a glass of wine.

Halsie was right about the sunset. The skies looked like strawberry jam and orange sherbet streaked across a gray flannel tablecloth. I raised my glass. "To your life, Halsie."

As she smiled, her crooked face lit up. I knew she'd been slugged in the face by a mental patient while working at a military hospital years ago. Her nose didn't line up exactly straight and the continual pain she had with her jaw and teeth were barely compensated for with disability payments.

"My life?" Halsie smiled. "I've brought a lot of lives into this world--369 babies, including four of my own. That's made my life pretty wonderful and worthwhile. I've got six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. If the medical profession hadn't started putting so much legal pressure on us midwives, I guess I'd still be delivering babies.

"Well," she sighed, "that part of my life is over and this one's just beginning."

"It's this one I want to hear about, Halsie."

She stood up, hands on hips jutting out her angular chin. "This is my dream house, my Spanish Hacienda. I've been designing it in my mind, brick by brick, window by window, for many years. I could never afford to build it in Southern California, so it remained a dream until three years ago, when I decided to retire in Mexico."

"You're widowed?"

"No. Divorced. I've been married three times--most of my life; but no more. This dance is mine."

"How did your children feel about your decision?"

"Man, were they outraged when I told them I was moving to Mexico. They worried about my health and safety. My son-in-law, Carlos, grew up in Monterrey and his horrible childhood experiences in Mexico blinded him to any possibility I could be happy here. They worried how they'd take care of me if anything happened." She tried to laugh, but it came out as a snort.

"You snort just like my mother." We both laughed. Salt of the earth must have been the cliché invented to describe this lady. "So, you just packed up and headed South?" I was amazed at her moxie.

”Not exactly. I arranged to housesit for a friend in Ajijic while I looked around. I bought this small piece of land a few miles out of town and got a quote for building my dream home. I only had enough money for half the house. But, by then, my hacienda was no longer a dream, it was a burning passion." Halsie surveyed her garden with pride. "I just couldn't let go of it.

"I borrowed money from my kids and my friends to pull it off. I was leveraged up to my kazoo, and I was scared to death I'd die before I paid them back." She shivered. "I've never owed money in my life. Being in debt scared me more than the move."

She sat back down and leaned across the table, wine glass in hand. "I bought open land. My friend--the one whose house I was staying in--is the realtor who sold it to me, so I didn't worry about the deal. Ha!" Halsie threw her head back. "I guess she forgot to mention I'd have to put in my own electric and telephone poles and lay my own cable. And water . . . well, I'll get to that later.

So my friend recommended this contractor. She must have received a kickback. There couldn't be any other reason because he turned out to be the worst contractor lakeside. Ask anyone. Ha!" She slapped her knee. "That's what we both should've done before we hired him--got references."

I nodded. It was still a sore subject with me, although I was trying to let it go. There were too many beautiful things and beautiful people in Mexico to carry around bad feelings for one rotten egg. We all have to learn lessons when we move to another culture, and this was a lesson Halsie and I shared.

"I'd remodeled houses and added on extensions with my own hands. I have a garage full of electric tools most carpenters would envy. I thought I was a pretty smart cookie. But, what I didn't know about Mexican construction nearly killed me--literally. Wherever that bastard could cut corners and save money, he did. I was out there every day. I made sure they followed my plans, but I couldn't judge the quality of the work. I was used to wood framing and wallboard, not bricks and cement. If you could call that mixture of dirt and lime they use, cement."

Halsie was a gracious hostess and refilled our glasses as the last of the sun's rays slumped behind the mountains. She was a contradiction--mermaids and tools, snorts and silver platters.

"This is so beautiful, Halsie. Do you get these sunsets often?"

"Yep. Most of the time. And the weather is perfect here. If I just didn't have to put up with these pesty no-see-ums in the rainy season, I'd call this place Camelot. I think they're worse down here by the lake.

"Okay where was I? Ah. My furniture arrived about a month before the house was finished. I hadn't learned yet about the 'manana' factor in Mexican schedules. My stomach turned, seeing my beautiful antique pieces huddled together in the middle of the rooms, covered with tarps and blankets, while workmen painted around them. It cost me $7,000 to get this stuff here, but I brought it all--except for my fourteen-foot ladder and I regret that.

"I've had my furniture, china and crystal since my first marriage and in my mind's eye, each piece had its prearranged place in this hacienda.

"Finally, they finished. Boy, was it beautiful! From the outside it was picture perfect. The windows were put in backwards, and inch-high cockroaches could crawl on their hind legs through spaces under the doors. There were no shelves in the cabinets or linen closets. My contractor didn't consider those things problems, at least not his problems.

"Mas dinero, mas dinero. He always needed more money for this, more money for that. I was almost broke when the first rainstorm thundered overhead.

"Upstairs, in my bedroom, the east wall resembled Niagara Falls. I couldn't mop it up as fast as it came down. The wind whipped more rain under the doors and around the windows. Every towel I had was sopping up the water. Images from Fantasia and Mickey with those mops and buckets and all that water kept going through my mind. This was a brand new house with a brand new roof. Water shouldn't have leaked in, let alone gushed."

Halsie leaned back in her chair and sighed. "My dream house was turning into a nightmare, a soaking-wet nightmare. I couldn't tell my kids. My realtor friend sided with the contractor. I didn't know where to turn or what to do."

Halsie stared at the wine she was swirling in her goblet. She took a deep breath and continued.

"He came and fixed the roof the next day. The next rainstorm, his fix failed. I was up most of the night swabbing the floor again."

There was something, some strength about Halsie that reminded me of Katherine Hepburn. A kind of doggedness.

"The following morning, I climbed on the roof myself. The damn thing was made of sheet rock, covered with tar paper and then topped with those curved terra cotta tiles that look so beautiful. Rats had torn apart the tar paper and the sheet rock was soaked. They should've used cement and bricks on the roof, but they did that part when I was away.

"Within a month, my dining room ceiling started to cave in. I moved my teak table into the living room and propped up the ceiling with pieces of pipe. I did what I should have done the first time. I asked around and found a reputable contractor who gave me a quote of $10,000.

I swallowed my pride and called my daughter to ask for another loan. She said, 'Come home, Mom. It's too much for you to handle down there.'" Halsie pursed her lips and sank back into her chair. "I was beginning to think she was right."

"When the dining room roof caved in, so did I. My nerves were shot and I'd lost my will to fight. He had me licked. An old gringa lady trying to build a house in a macho country is too big a disadvantage.

"It was very painful. I made the mistake of paying up front for what I wanted. The money disappeared and I didn't get what I paid for. I had a contractor who put my house together with spit and glue. His attitude was, 'If it looks good, then don't complain lady, you got what you wanted.'

"Then I had a mild stroke. The doctor told me, 'No more stress.' My daughter lent me the money and I stayed with her in California while my new roof was installed. I recovered, but I'm not sure all my brain cells have returned to their assigned slots."

"Sounds like that stroke was a wake-up call. Did you follow the doctor's orders and eliminate stress?"

"I tried. My house was supposed to cost $58,000. I paid that crook $63,000 by the time it was finished. Repaired, replaced and restructured, I've now got another $14,000 in it and I'm deeper in debt."

Halsie lowered her head and looked at me through her thinning eyelashes. "I know, you're thinking the house will belong to my daughter when I die, but it was very hard to ask her to bail me out when I never should've gotten myself into this situation. I felt like I'd failed and created a financial burden for her. One of my loans is paid now and I can take a financial breather; so yes, the stress is mucho reduced."

"No, Halsie, I was thinking that you've got $78,000 in this house. Surely it could sell for almost twice that. So, at least you'll be compensated for all your stress. I've just about the same in my house and feel I could double my money. But, I looked at it as an investment and you've obviously got your soul wrapped up in this house."

She put both goblets on the tray and shoved her chair back. "It's cooling off. I just baked chocolate-chip cookies, so we'll go inside and have some." Halsie scrambled towards the kitchen before I could object. I turned off the recorder wondering if I'd have that much moxie when I was sevemty-one. It was probably a metabolism thing. She set the cookies and some coffee on the dining room table and reached over to start the recorder.

"Well, Halsie," I said, admiring the painted Mexican tiles in her kitchen. "The house looks great now. Are you happy with it?"

She looked a little sheepish. "I'm embarrassed to admit it, but as soon as the roof, water damages and structural repairs were completed, I decided enough was enough. The contractor had won. I put the house on the market, hoping to get $140,000. The profits would get me out of debt and I'd consider the rest a persecution payment."

The cookies were still warm. I took a bite. Soft on the inside and crispy on the outside. "Delicious. Thank you, Halsie." After a few more bites, I said, "You obviously didn't sell the house."

"My friends talked me out of it. 'The worst is over,' they said. 'Stay and enjoy your dream home' They were right. As time passed, things became easier. I'm a survivor and I love my house, my friends and the weather. My daughter would like me to come back to California, but I feel good here. So, here I stay.

"Each day it gets easier. Communication is still a problem though. Because of my limited Spanish, little things sometimes turn into big things."

"Can you give me an example?"

She snorted. "Yesterday. That's a good example. I asked my gardener to move a bench into my back patio. Later, I looked outside and he was digging up a tree. I really thought he understood and he did too. We both laughed. That was a little thing."

Halsie thought a minute. "Here's a big thing . . . the water story I promised to tell you. My contractor threatened to cut my water off. He owns the only well in the area. Mind you, it's not registered, so he can't legally sell water from the well. He's put tree branches over it and built a fence in front of it so the water company won't find it.

"He wanted me to pay for a year in arrears because his workmen used his water to build my house. My Scottish stubbornness surfaced. The cost of water should be included in the construction cost. Then, on top of that, he wanted me to pay double the going rate, starting from the day I moved in. They don't have water meters here. Costs are calculated per square meter of land and I had done my research.

"We were at an impasse.

"My friend had told me to hold out, to threaten him with exposing his illegal well. She thinks I'm such a tough broad, but I have less strength than I used to for fighting battles."

I imagined Halsie had a fair share of tiger left in her tank.

"That week, we had a meeting--him and his wife, me and my interpreter. His wife said to me, 'You paying for water!'I said, 'Tell me how much was used and I'll pay you.' She said, 'You pay or no water.'

"I was up the creek. I needed water. My purchase agreement includes nothing about water rights. She screamed at me, wagging her finger in my face, 'You bad.'I could hardly breathe. My pulse was racing. 'Stay calm,' my friend had coached me. 'Just find out what his bottom line is.' I don't think with my head in situations like this, I react with my emotions. Next thing I knew, I was standing up, face to face and wagging my finger in front of her nose. 'No, you bad.' I felt light headed and sat down to keep from fainting.

"Finally, as preplanned with my interpreter, I agree to pay his exorbitant rates if he gave me a receipt with the registration number of his well on it. He blanched. They spoke rapidly in Spanish. The interpreter winked at me. We ended up with a compromise. The contractor waived all water payments prior to the date I moved in and reduced my monthly rate by half. He gave me a receipt. It had no registration number."

Halsie pretended she had a cigar in her mouth and flashed her eyebrows at me, Groucho Marx style, obviously proud of herself. "Not bad, eh?

"If I'd been a businesswoman like you, instead of a midwife I could probably have handled these problems better--at least with less stress."

Thinking back to my own remodeling experience, I wasn’t so sure.

I had moved into my Mexican home two months after construction was scheduled to be finished. Completed were the guest bedroom and bathroom; installed were the electricity, plumbing and a front door. I owned one mattress, two bar stools and a refrigerator.

Workmen swarmed around me from morning to night, Monday through Saturday. I wore a white paper mask to filter out the cement dust. On the seventh day, in the quiet and calm, I rested. Sometimes I cried; sometimes I marveled at the miracles accomplished the preceding week.

Finally, it was done. But the gas company wouldn't fill my roof-top tank because it had been installed too close to the chimney and might explode. The water heater caught fire because no ventilation had been provided for it. The light fixtures in the house soon burned out because there was insufficient air space around the wires. My Bose stereo stopped working because, instead of running the cables inside the walls with the electrical, they strung them, unprotected, across my roof where the sun and rain destroyed them.

When the phone doesn't work, the water runs out, or the electricity is zapped by lightening, who do you call? Where do you go for help? Things seemed so difficult at first, but when you let go, adopting the Mexican attitude of, 'It may not get fixed today, but it will get fixed', then life is much simpler.

"No Halsie, I don't think being a businesswoman would make any difference. My belief is that what makes life easier here is giving up control and realizing we have plenty of time for all life's little surprises.

"I think we all learn to cope differently. Maybe we need to change our expectations rather than trying to change the reality. Maybe adequacy is okay and excellence is unattainable. Don't you find yourself reordering priorities and letting go of the small annoyances?"

"You have to. Ha! You couldn't survive here if you let all the small things get to you. There's only enough of me left to worry about the big things." Halsie slapped her flat chest and I understood that for her, a big thing was cancer.

"Finally, after all my house disasters, I have some free time to enjoy. I've paid off one of the loans. I'm sculpting and painting again, decorating and doing some entertaining. I sculpted that bronze mermaid in the living room."

"No! Halsie, she's gallery quality. It's absolutely fantastic." I looked around the dining room. "And that young boy?" She nodded, an embarrassed, yet pleased grin creeping across her face. "I am truly amazed and in awe. What else do you do?"

I bought a set of miniature tools so I could make furniture for my doll house and, of course, there's that pewter soldier collection I paint myself." She waved her hand towards the antique desk, atop of which, the miniatures stood ready to battle.

A woman of many talents, contradictions and surprises, I thought. "If you had it to do over, would you, Halsie?"

She took a minute before answering, curling her lower lip around the upper one. "No, not this way. I was far too trusting and got myself in way over my head--emotionally, physically and financially. But I'd move here again in a heartbeat.

"My belief is you go for it and iron out the wrinkles as they appear." She lowered her voice and put her hand on her heart. "Sometimes the wrinkles are permanent. Dealing with betrayal and losing a friend over money was hard for me. I guess I'm just a crusty old pie shell with whipped-cream insides.

"Bother, I sound like a sentimental old fool. If I weren't so mulish, I'd be back in California now. But, this old lady's got it made." Halsie walked to the front door and turned around. "I have my dream house. My garden is magnificent. The higher altitude has improved my health. My roof no longer leaks. My retirement and disability dollars go a hell of a lot further here than in California. I've made wonderful friends. And, I've got some interesting new neighbors."

She motioned for me to join her outside. "Hear that?" She asked, cupping her hand around her ear. It sounded like a fox had sneaked into the chicken coop. "Twenty-six roosters just moved in next door. The guy who rents that property imported them from Oregon and says he's training them for the Mexican Olympic cock fights.

I shook my head. Being a light sleeper, I was certain I'd have poisoned them by now.

Not Halsie. "Maybe," she said with a you-gotta-love-em grin, "he'll give me free admission tickets."

The indomitable woman.