'You want to stay here or go back to the White House?' Joe asked.
Jill looked around the enclosed garden and just listened for a moment. Silence. Blessed silence greeted her ears. She turned back to Joe. 'If you're ok to stay here I'd actually love to sit a while longer', she admitted.
Joe smiled, the lines of his face deepening as he did so. He leaned towards her and touched his forehead to hers. 'I was kinda hoping you'd say that', he said and she laughed in response.
He settled back in the seat, tucking one leg underneath the other he turned to face her as he continued with his story. 'You asked what's gonna happen to them', he said looking back in the direction of the cottage for a moment.
'As I said, it'll be one of three things. Number one, they're all bulldozed and the sites sold'. He laughed aloud at her horrified expression. 'Don't worry, that won't happen', he assured her.
'Number two, they're taken over by the National Parks Service and used as recreational areas', he said. 'But that's tricky because they don't all have gardens and things to see. Plus we'd have to put in modern facilities like car parks and public restrooms and ticket barriers', he explained. 'And that's also complicated because then we're caught with the national monuments legislation; the houses could only be conserved really, not restored'.
'What's the difference?' she asked intrigued. He'd obviously done his homework and she was delighted to see him so relaxed and engaged.
'Well if they're conserved then basically we have to keep all the original features which is fine, we'd likely want to do that anyway but we can't go adding in modern things like, say, security systems and we couldn't build any extensions, stuff like that. It's really just maintaining them as they are, kinda set in a time capsule and folks can look at them', he said. 'And while there is a case to be made they're not all gonna fit too well into that category and it's just a very difficult and complicated and expensive road to go down. We'd have to have conservation architects and engineers and real specialists doing all of the work and at the end of the day if people are not going to visit them what's the point, except to pay a lot of money to keep them looking good', he said, taking a sip of his drink.
'I understand', she said, running her hand along his leg, knowing that the decision needed to be one that could be sold to a lot of people with diverse ideas.
'Number three', he began, putting his mug down and turning to face her. He took her hands in his. The darkness was closing in on them now and they were almost lost in the space, agents and staff unseen in the shadows.
'Number three we restore them', he paused, and fixed his eyes on hers, 'using veterans to do the work', he said, watching her closely. 'Kind of like a rehabilitation project. Wounded service members get trained up in trades and crafts and just, you know, we build a community. A community of folks who've served our country and now are a little lost, need a bit of camaraderie, a bit of companionship, some direction. People who are so used to being part of a team, doing important and intricate work and now feel cast aside. Folks with physical and mental scars who just need a bit of understanding, a bit of patience, some guidance but folks who need to do an honest day's work too. To feel needed. Give them a reason to get up and out there', he explained passionately.
'What do you think?' he asked when he was done, his voice quiet now.
She wiped her hand across her eyes. The tears were visible like drops of silver running down her cheeks. 'I think that's a beautiful idea. Whoever came up with that is a one of a kind person', she said, wiping her eyes again, suspecting she may know the answer.
Beside her, Joe just smiled in the silence.
'And what happens to the houses after they're restored?' she asked. After Joe had wiped her face with his handkerchief for the second time that evening.
