Gus knocked on the front door. “I want to see your kitchen.” Confused but agreeable, Tony ushered him down the hallway and into the kitchen Gus had visited hundreds of times before. As if never having never seen it before, Tony glanced around the room, wondering what Gus was looking for. The kitchen and its living area were warm and inviting. Tony loved coming home to it. Normally.
Today the space felt more crowded than usual, and Tony realized they had gradually been increasing the amount of items in the room. The kitchen end, with its old wood-burning stove and the modern one, was somewhat cluttered with baby bottles, but the living end was packed with extra stuff. In addition to the normal chairs, television, video games and Theo's quilt-in-progress and slippers and books, there were his books, magazines, and the whittling project he'd found intriguing. Plus a trash can. Added into the mixture was a playpen, bouncy seats, a high chair, and swing. Balls, cars, trucks, stuffed animals, and a couple of empty cardboard boxes littered the boys' area. Currently the family couldn't build a fire in the raised hearth because of the overflow. Heaven help them, they were drowning, and there was no lifeboat was in sight. Tony couldn't even see room for an oar.
Gus cleared his throat, almost like he was nervous. Not Gus's style. Tony felt a vague sense of alarm. His brother was acting peculiar.
“Can I ask you something?” Gus fidgeted and didn't make eye contact.
“Sure, anything.” Tony couldn't imagine what was going on. His older brother was supremely self-confident, sometimes to the point of arrogance.
“Well, Catherine and I have been talking, and here's the deal.” Gus paused. “We want to put an addition onto your house. This place is a claustrophobe's nightmare.”
Tony could only stare. He certainly couldn't dispute Gus's assessment about feeling smothered.
Gus waved a hand. “We could build off the back of the house.” He pointed out the window. “We wouldn't lose the light from this window. You've got a huge lot. If we angle out between those trees, you'd still have plenty of yard even though it would eliminate the historical purity of the exterior. I was thinking maybe a large bedroom, a small office, and three-quarter bath.” He paused to breathe.
“You're serious.” Tony couldn't quite take it all in. “You've been designing an addition?”
Gus nodded.
“Wouldn't that require serious money?” Tony didn't want to guess how much they'd have to pay for supplies, plus the cost of labor. Certainly more than they could afford.
Gus didn't deny it. “Not your money.”
Still trying to understand, Tony shook his head. An addition to the house was far more than he and Theo could accept. Wasn't it? “Why?” Tony couldn't seem to think coherently.
Gus didn't answer. He just grinned and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs spread. Tony understood why both his own wife and Catherine often accused the two brothers of resembling pirates. All Gus needed to complete the picture was a cutlass and a ship. Maybe a parrot. Gus shook his head.
Tony considered shooting his brother out of pure aggravation, wondering if the courts would rule the homicide justifiable. Maybe he should just choke the information out of him. Gus might have a slight edge in the muscle department, but Tony wasn't exactly a lightweight himself. Plus, he had advanced hand-to-hand fight training. He flexed his fingers. “I can kill someone with my bare hands.”
Capitulating, Gus grinned and answered. “It's from Catherine. She's paying for all of it, and she said to remind you of the day she promised to find a way to pay you back.” Gus became very serious. “She's got the money and wants to do this, but we both owe you.” Gus breathed hard, as if he'd been running.
Tony remembered the incident Gus referred to, but disagreed about them owing him. It had happened the second night after he took the office of sheriff. He was driving the roads of the county he'd sworn to serve when he saw Catherine rising from a soggy ditch, covered with mud. She was almost blue from the cold, slimy and wet, with sticks and grass clinging to her skin and hair. Her blouse was missing. Her eyes were swollen shut. A date gone terribly wrong had brought her from a wealthy North Carolina suburb over the mountains to the back roads of Park County. She'd sprayed her date with pepper spray, getting some of the stuff in her own eyes, and jumped from the car when he slowed down. She'd hidden in the ditch until Tony found her, shivering and half dead. What they didn't know at the time was that her date did die. He'd been driving much faster than the speed limit, when he crashed into the wall of stone at Dead Man's Curve. He wasn't wearing a seat belt, and he still clutched Catherine's ripped blouse in his hand when he was thrown through the windshield.
Gus spoke as if answering a question. “You know Catherine runs a very successful Internet business. She considers my income to be somewhere in her petty cash range.” He chuckled. “It works for me. I don't mind being her boy toy.”
Tony shrugged away the idea of his big brother being a gigolo. No one worked harder than Gus. “Not to trivialize the incident, but I didn't exactly do anything but wrap Catherine in a blanket and take her to the doctor. She defended herself quite handily. If some of the spray hadn't gotten in her eyes, she wouldn't have needed any help from me or anyone.”
“True.” Gus appeared to be breathing normally again. “Still, she wants to do this, and it's not charity.”
Tony felt his eyebrows rise. “What would you call it?”
Gus thought for a moment, possibly stymied, then he grinned. “It's a gift. A baby gift.”
“A baby gift?” Theo knew she was whispering, but it felt like a shriek. “A hat or a blanket is a gift. An addition to the house is . . . is a miracle.”
“Can we accept it?” Tony squeezed into the cramped nursery. “He's waiting in the yard for our permission to get started.”
Trapped in a space the size of a milk carton, Theo shook her head. At the same time, she said, “How can we not?”
Tony reached for a blanket. “Gus said something about our giving him the greater gift.”
“What's that?” Theo felt a beat off, like she had stepped into someone else's life.
“Catherine.”
“Nonsense. We didn't give her to anyone.” Theo slipped behind Tony. “Let's go down and talk to him.”
Sure enough, Gus stood in the back yard, almost hidden by the trees. He turned at their approach and didn't give them a chance to say anything. He poked a stick into the ground. “Out to here.” He turned and took a few long steps, perpendicular to the stick. “To here.” He strode back toward Tony and Theo, but turned and studied the layout. Silent, he squinted for a while before turning to Theo. “Would you like a garage for your pretty little SUV?”
“A garage?” Theo could barely breathe. “You mean attached to the house?”
Gus nodded.
“I wouldn't have to carry the children outside in the rain?” Theo hadn't realized she was crying until tears dripped onto her hands.
“It is all for them, you know.” Gus ignored the tears. “They are the two sweetest little girls. Ever.”
Theo waited for Tony to say something, but he couldn't seem to speak.
Gus said, “It's easy. We'll put the extra rooms over the garage and build a hallway where the girls sleep now, connecting the whole thing.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket and, ignoring his brother and sister-in-law, began measuring.
Theo whispered, “Do you realize that in the past year someone has gifted us with a new car and now an addition to the house? What are the odds?”
Tony shook his head but remained silent.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara Graham began making up stories in the third grade. Learning to multiply and divide paled in comparison. Born and mostly raised in the Texas Panhandle, she later lived in Denver, New Orleans, and East Tennessee. Inspiration for Silersville comes from her Tennessee period. An unrepentant quilting addict, she has been a travel agent, ballet teacher, and stay-at-home mom. She lives in Wyoming with her long-sufferin
g husband and two dogs. She is a long distance member of various writing groups including Mystery Writers of America, Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers.
Barbara Graham - Quilted 04 - Murder by Vegetable Page 26