We hit the housing market hard. I'd gulped during my own house-hunting experience; a small condo in a nice building had cost $750 000, which had scared the pants off me, but that was in a really desirable neighborhood. Still made me a little light-headed. That was nothing compared to house-hunting with a former NFL star who still had a lot of name recognition in the city. He'd had to change realtors before we got going together because he wasn't interested in the huge mansions that the realtor kept showing him. Apparently nothing that he'd been shown came in at under ten million and it was all vast and ostentatious, he'd said. His new realtor was still showing him pricey properties, but that was the market, and the houses were smaller. He wanted a couple of guest rooms for family and friends to visit, good for entertaining clients, and a home office. Beyond that, anything was negotiable. On our fourth day of hunting, the realtor showed us the perfect place on our third stop. It was in a gated community, which we weren't wild about, but it wasn't a deal breaker, but the first selling point was its location, on Redondo Beach. The house was a vaguely Mediterranean style, on an acre of land, nicely xeriscaped, with a pool. That was pretty much inescapable in a huge amount of houses, and Will murmured that we could always fill it in. It was ridiculous to have, with the beach right there down the cliff. There was a great entertaining area outside, with a big fire pit, a designated dining area with an outdoor kitchen, and a couple of multi-level places to hang out and chat. There was a fountain and a covered terrace, stairs down to the beach, and great views. In addition to the guest rooms in the house, there was a surprisingly spacious little guest house out across the back yard, with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, utility room, and a nice living room with a lot of windows.
There was stone tile in the entry, but wood everywhere else except in the bathrooms. High ceilings, not a ton of architectural detail in the ceilings, crown molding, that sort of thing, just enough to be interesting without being ornate. It was definitely a home for entertaining; the first couple of public rooms at the front of the house were vast, more hotel-like than homelike, but once you trotted through those, there was a cozier room that we could use for hanging out together, a small theater where we could watch TV, a frankly sublime master suite that was bigger than my whole current apartment, what with the bathroom and closet-- the windows in the bathroom looked out over trees and sky, very peaceful (it had a steam shower big enough for two), a fitness room that was shown with a TV opposite its mirrored wall and rubberized coating on the floor in case weights were dropped, and a small octagonal wine cellar. Neither of us were that into wine, but Will would be entertaining a fair amount due to the nature of his job. There were four bedrooms, a big, top-notch kitchen, central vacuum, and a three car garage. There were solar panels as well. It was still on the big side and impersonal, but that part could change. It was a good fit for his job, not too ostentatious, and we could both envision living there, so Will wrote up an offer. It had been on the market for a few months, and the bid was low, but not insultingly so. The next day, he got the news that his offer had been accepted.
Right after that, I reported to work, and started the upward slope of the learning curve there. It was utterly engrossing and it was great to be with other scientists, finally working full-time on my interests. I'd been there a month when Will closed on his house and we moved in. We went furniture shopping and selected a nice king-sized bed with a headboard padded in velvet, the rest of the bedroom furniture, and a couple of recliners to go in the cozy room with my sofa. We decided to use one of the guest rooms as a joint office; it was big enough for two desks, a lot of space for an uncluttered feel, and we turned the walk-in closet into office storage, set up as our technology hub as well, with the printer and router and all. We decided to take our time furnishing the rest of the place. Our old bedroom furniture went into the guest rooms, and we celebrated Labor Day with a party for our friends. I liked it; there was good surfing nearby.
We settled into our new living situation pretty easily, all things considered. We didn't fuss at each other much, and the few disagreements we did have were conducted by the rules we'd established in the first stage of our relationship and handled pretty well. We invited my family down for Thanksgiving; Stan wasn't able to come, but my parents and Grandpa did. He loved the kitchen, as I knew he would, and we made a great feast. For Christmas, Will's parents came in. We had lots of space to put up a nice tree and went shopping for ornaments and decorations. We stayed in for New Years. In the spring, Will and his partners leased office space in a hot part of downtown LA and hired someone to come decorate it. It wasn't too fancy, since the clients didn't have to come out to see them; the partners went to see them. They built up lists of professionals that could help their clients with virtually every contingency, from the best realtors, yard maintenance, and cleaners, to lawyers for a variety of circumstances. They found out where the best dry cleaners were in each city, good restaurants, car dealerships, all of it, so that their clients, when moving to a new city, would be able to hit the ground running. Will graduated with his MBA in June, and we hosted his family for the occasion, having his graduation party as our first big party. His family, friends, classmates, and partners were all there and the house was a big hit. I had to admit I still loved to be introduced as Dr Knight. His studying continued; he had to take a couple of big tests to be able to provide financial planning for his clients, but his hard work paid off in September, when he passed everything and was ready to perform all his duties.
Will didn't do as much traveling as his partners did, but he saw each client that the firm had at least once a year and contacted them frequently. He found a lot of pleasure in getting them set up in a financially responsible manner; finding ways to gratify their immediate desires, which often included buying a house for their mother or grandma as well as big houses for themselves. He created individualized investment plans, portfolios, and did it in such a way that the clients didn't feel deprived, lectured to, or handled, but empowered.
I was proud of him, but all the travel he was doing meant that I was alone more than either of us really had anticipated, and when Will was gone, the house was really lonely. So one weekend we went to an animal shelter and adopted three cats. At work, the opportunities that I'd been assured were coming were not, in fact. Funding was diverted to other projects, and I was doing work that wasn't really in my field. But at an alumni event, one of my old professors told me that they were looking for an assistant professor, tenure track, and urged me to consider it. It was in physical oceanography, my broad field, and I'd be able to conduct my own research. So I applied. I knew I was a pretty good lecturer, and I'd be able to teach upper division classes too. Just before Christmas, I got the job offer, to start over the Summer quarter. Will was thrilled for me.
"I thought you were done with school," Zayna jabbed at me over a phone call, and I laughed. But I wasn't the only one with a new job. She'd accepted a job as a full editor with Phoenix Books, here in LA and would be moving back at the end of January after she finished up projects at her current job. I invited her to stay with us while she looked for a place. I mentally reviewed my old friends. Maya was still in Washington working with the National Park Service, her dream job. Carol was at the CDC down in Georgia. Keshondra's employer had wanted her to get a PhD, and she hadn't wanted to, so she was looking for new work. Couldn't blame her, I wouldn't want to get a doctorate in economics, either. I sent her a job listing for an economist at the state Department of Labor. Cass had joined a dentistry practice in San Francisco, so I didn't get to see her much. Paul was working for Boeing up in Seattle, and John and his wife were in San Diego. Will and I had dinner with them every few months. My brother was applying to doctoral programs; it was apparently more reassuring to people if he had a Dr at the front of his name. He wasn't too enthused about it; he liked doing more than studying, but it would allow him more freedom in his work. He wanted to attend West Virginia University in Morgantown, one of the top programs in the country, since he'd be license-eligible and learn from a faculty that closely aligned with his goals. I was glad Zayna was coming back; it had been far too long since we had been able to hang out and do things together.
My start back at UCLA felt much less stressful than it had been as a student, and I settled into a good routine easily. It was kind of fun to be faculty, and one of my tasks was to get academic regalia for commencements and official occasions that involve faculty processions. It was expensive, almost $700, but I'd be wearing it several times a year. Bonus: I got a robe with pockets. It made me feel like a real academic. My office was small, with a tiny closet and just enough wall space to hang my terminal diploma. I didn't have nearly enough books for all the bookshelves, but that would probably change as the years went by. The bound copy of my dissertation was the first volume I placed on the shelves, in a rather inconspicuous place. The desk was fine, but I bought a more comfortable chair. Will sent me a dozen yellow roses with small blue flowers in a pretty vase for my first official day of work, and they occupied pride of place on my desk.
Will spent most of August and a good chunk of September without any travel at all, to the delight of both of us. We took turns cooking and spent our evenings mostly at home. UCLA was kinda/sorta on the way into his office and we often drove in together. His office suite made me laugh; while his favorite things from his career were at home, displayed in the office, there were pictures of him from his college and pro days and his framed Packers jersey joined the cluster of jerseys from the other agents who'd been players. They framed photographs that their clients sent them, too, so there was quite a gallery of action shots accumulating on the walls. I'd had his MBA diploma nicely framed and it had pride of place in his office; he'd had my doctorate framed and I returned the favor. Our other diplomas were on the wall at home, a little gallery of Bruin pride.
In early October, Grandpa tripped on his stairs and broke his hip. There were complications; he developed pneumonia and the bone was slow to heal. Mom was a mess, Stan was pissed that he was across the country and couldn't do anything, and I was really upset. He had to go into a nursing home during his recovery. Will presented me with some papers over dinner one night. "What's this?" I asked.
"Estimates on having the guest house fixed up for Joseph," he said tranquilly. "Widening the doors enough to allow for wheelchair access, if necessary, an entry ramp, little touches like grab bars in the shower, a taller toilet. Taking the carpet up and hardwoods installed. He could stay with us for awhile until he's back to normal, or he could move here permanently. Plenty of room for him and his cats." It was so thoughtful that I started to cry, which hadn't been his intent. I immediately got on the phone with my grandpa--well, once I'd calmed down, anyway--and made the offer. When Will assured him that he was looking forward to getting to know him better, he accepted the offer and we immediately got moving on the improvements. By the time Grandpa was ready to be released from the nursing home, we'd gotten it ready. Will came with me one weekend and Mom and Dad helped us pack up some of Grandpa's things and the cats; it wasn't certain yet whether Grandpa would make a permanent move down with us but he needed some of his books and other things, and of course his kitchen stuff. We had quite a caravan going back; my parents came too to help him settle in, and they stayed in the main house with Will and me. Mom was relieved, and Stan relaxed, although he hounded me for updates on Grandpa on a weekly basis. And as a welcoming gesture, Will had several of the photographs I'd taken on my trips with Grandpa framed. Grandpa settled in nicely and cheered up even though he had to use a cane. I browsed around downtown and found a stylish antique cane for him, ebony wood with a carved silver handle. It looked less like a medical appliance and more like an accessory. I loved having him so close, and it was especially nice when Will traveled. Shuri and Invisible Steve settled in nicely, loving all the sunshine to sleep in. But he started to build his life, finding activities and friends of his own, and when Will gently pressed him to consider relocating here permanently, it didn't take much convincing. In November, he arranged with my parents to sell his house in Duke's Crossing, paring down his things a little, and a moving truck arrived at the same time my parents did for Thanksgiving. We moved the furniture that had been in the guest house into the main house's guest rooms, which was an upgrade over some of the furniture Will and I had had before moving in together. Stan came for Thanksgiving too, and It was wonderful.