With both his parents passed away and two siblings who had their own new families to start, Chris Stiles had no reason to stick around. Fixing up the house and putting it up for sale was a non-issue for him. Sentiments be damned, life is for the living.
With his fathers Mercedes 560 SEL sold and all the old furniture auctioned off by his parents estate lawyers, he was in position to do as much or little as he wanted.
He quickly dumped his longtime girlfriend who had the gall to wonder if she was included in his fathers will. Suspicions on his part put aside, she did not.
The fucking bitch had actually seduced his dad, he laughed to himself. "Well he went happy," was all he could say to others offering their condolences.
In the hand carved mahogany and teak-wood inlaid grand foyer, he took one last look around the house he grew up in and could see all the people who had lived there. He closed the door behind him and never looked back.
In his dress blues he drove to Bethesda where his dissertation on Upcoming Asian Naval Powers was to be proofread by none other than his best friend and colleague Benjamin Irons. Gunnery Sgt. Irons was bedside, wounded in Baluchistan trying to disrupt an enemy supply line.
Irons and Stiles had attended Brown University together, meeting freshmen year as roommates. Both were upper-middle class kids who had no real sense of direction in life other than doing and being proper, at the proper times.
They were both extremely patriotic in and both were in very non-military families. Save for Chris's granddaddy who fought with the 1st Div marines in WW2 and saw action in Guadalcanal before returning stateside for duty as a DI. Chris loved to hear his grandpa speak of the 'esprit d' corps' and how the marines made him the man he was.
This is going to be an on-going story. Sex is involved, dont worry lol