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p to his simple; small and tidy home。 Mike met me at the door。
〃Dad's on the phone; and he said to wait on the back porch;〃 Mike said as he opened the door。
The old wooden floor creaked as I steppedacross the threshold of this aging house。 There was a cheap mat just inside the door。 The mat was there to hide the years of wear from countless footsteps that the floor had supported。 Although clean; it needed to be replaced。
I felt claustrophobic as I entered the narrow living room; which was filled with old musty overstuffed furniture that today would be collector's items。 Sitting on the couch were two women; a little older than my mom。 Across from the women sat a man in workman's clothes。 He wore khaki slacks and a khaki shirt; neatly pressed but without starch; and polished work books。 He was about 10 years older than my dad; I'd say about 45 years old。 They smiled as Mike and I walked past them; heading for the kitchen; which lead to the porch that overlooked the back yard。 I smiled back shyly。
〃Who are those people?〃 I asked。
〃Oh; they work for my dad。 The older man runs his warehouses; and the women are the managers of the restaurants。 And you saw the construction supervisor; who is working on a road project about 50 miles from here。 His other supervisor; who is building a track of houses; had already left before you got here。〃
〃Does this go on all the time?〃 I asked。
〃Not alike; smiling as he pulled up a chair to sit dow