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WES
“You boys really did dogreat work out here.”
Dad was walking the perimeter of Beaver Hole Park with us to evaluate exactly where the water runoff was happening and assess which of our ideas from our brainstorming the night before might work. As we walked, he got his first good look at the finished landscaping around the edge of the pond, which had been accented with water-loving plants and encircled with a rock barrier that helped it stand out from its surroundings; the new picnic and play area that had been installed, complete with shade trees; and my favorite part, the gazebo, which had been surrounded by shrubs that would flower at different times of the year, ensuring a beautiful setting for wedding receptions or other special occasions. We’d expanded the park into the previously vacant lot, enclosed the driveway there, and planted grass and bushes to create some privacy screening between the park and the neighbors.
Unfortunately, enclosing that vacant lot had only worsened the water drainage problem that had already existed. Before, some of the water had escaped through a driveway. Without that exit point, it now had nowhere to go but toward the other yards as it continued to run downhill.
“I wish people at the town hall could have seen this, instead of us taking a public beating,” I said.
“Well, son, running a business isn’t for the faint of heart,” Dad said. “When mistakes are made, you take a flogging, and you have to learn to take it gracefully.”
“Sucks though.”
Dad chuckled. “Sure as hell does.”
By the time Tucker and Paul arrived—along with the reporter, Linc—we’d assessed our options and agreed on a plan. It almost seemed too easy in the end. Because most of the go-to options required too much money, heavy machinery that could damage the landscaping, or were just plain ugly, we were going for a more natural, less invasive approach.
“Tucker, Paul, thanks for coming out. You too, Linc,” Dad said, shaking hands with each of them. “I know you’ve all got better things to do.”
“No problem,” Tucker said. “This problem is at least half our fault, and after the shitshow at the town hall, we had to loop in Linc to set the record straight.”
“Well, I hope you can make us look a little smarter than that meeting did,” I said.
Linc smiled easily. “Hey, you were put on the spot. That’s never easy. I just hope to provide some clarity and update everyone on the plan going forward.”
Paul cleared his throat, sounding sheepish as he said, “I really can’t believe I didn’t think to mention the drainage issue in my talks with Wes. I assumed the park redesign would mitigate it and was focused more on the new ways the park expansion might affect the neighborhood. I didn’t do my due diligence, and that’s on me.”
“Me too,” Tucker said. “The city did get complaints. I’ve spent the morning looking into it. The complaints were filed by the former property owner and dated years ago. Somehow that little detail fell through the cracks, even with our public input meetings.” He rubbed at his eyes, looking almost as tired as I felt. “I apologize you had to be the scapegoat for our mistakes.”
“Sounds like a lot of miscommunication all around,” Linc said.
Tucker smiled wryly. “Yes, we’ll be revisiting our research policies before we break ground on future projects. Please be sure to print that.”
“The important thing now is that we fix it,” Dad said. “Why don’t you walk them through your plan, Wes?”
I felt a little flush of pride, along with an uncomfortable sprinkle of guilt. “Well, Beck deserves most of the credit. I got the idea from a landscaping plan of his out at the Fleming place four years ago.”
“It’s your idea, Wes,” Beckett said, giving me a nudge. “You’re good at this, so just take the compliment.”
“Okay, okay,” I said with an embarrassed chuckle, knowing he was right. Designing landscaping plans would never be in my comfort zone, but my years of experience did give me insights I hadn’t fully appreciated. “It’s not that impressive, but here’s the gist of it…”
I explained that we couldn’t give the water a place to drain, so we needed to give it time to absorb into the ground without affecting the neighbors’ homes. A larger-scale rain garden—which would involve digging to create a depressed area of ground for the water to pool and planting native plants that could capture and temporarily hold the water—could give us that time.
Of course, there was still the matter of ensuring the runoff ended up where we wanted it, but Beckett had been quick to piggyback the idea of digging swales—or shallow trenches we could hide in the landscaping—to channel the excess water toward the rain garden and away from the homes.
“It’ll mean giving up some of the green space in the expanded area of the park,” Beckett said, “but we can make it look intentional with a little work.”
“I’m going to leave that part to Beckett,” I said. “Maybe I’ve got some ideas, but he’s got the magic touch when it comes to design.”
Beckett looked as if he might scold me again, but Dad nodded. “It’s a smart man who knows how to play to people’s strengths. I agree Beckett will do a good job.” He looked at Tucker and Paul. “Assuming you both sign off on this?”
“It’s better than what I was expecting,” Tucker said. “I worried we’d have to go back to the City Council and get more financing, perhaps even extend the project timeline. We’ve got enough discretionary funds for this, though, so I’m all for it.”
Paul nodded. “I think the neighbors will love it, assuming it won’t be ugly since it’s going to be within their line of sight.”
“We’ll make sure it’s not,” Beckett said.
“Well, then, I think we’ve got a plan,” Tucker said.
