Mr. Philips stared at them for a moment. "It goes on with directions for what to do in case of illness or grievous injury but considering the fact that they have both passed I don't see the point in reviewing that."
Paul sat back in his chair, his face growing darker. He wasn't completely sure what everything in the will would mean for him, but he had the feeling that he wasn't going to like it.
Once again Joe took the lead, his schooling giving him an advantage over his brothers. "The first part makes sense," he said. "And I think we can split up whatever possessions of Mom and Dad's we want to keep without a hassle, or a fight. But what about the second part, about the house?"
"Do any of you wish to live here?"
"No," said Paul. "We aren't staying."
"Well then, all you need to do is sell the house and the bank will release the remainder of your inheritance. It's that simple."
Paul stared at this man, with his white hair and grey suit, and said, "Simple? How are we supposed to sell a house like this, in a town like Barnes Lake?"
"Well, I suggest you fix it up, that would be a good place to start. And then speak with Angela Barbour; she's the only realtor in town. She'll help you list it." He tucked his papers in his briefcase and stood. "It was good to see you boys again. If there's anything at all you need help with speak with Stan down at the bank, he has all the instructions. I'll leave you three to discuss matters. Good day."
They sat in silence for a long time after the side door clattered shut behind Mr. Philips. A copy of the will lay on the kitchen table before them but none of them felt the need to verify the old lawyer's words. Paul thought he should feel disappointed, or shocked, but all he could think was, He's kept me here, under his thumb, even after death.
Finally Matt cleared his throat. "What are we going to do?"
"I can afford to take some time off," Paul said, prepared to shoulder this burden for his brothers as he had every other one in the past. "I can stay and get this place fixed up while you two head on home. Matt, check in at the office for me every few days and call me at Mrs. Barbour's if there's anything that needs my attention." He stood but Joe's snort of laughter stopped him from leaving the table.
"I've got eyes, this place is a wreck. There's no way you're doing this on your own, Mr. Big-shot Contractor. Were you planning on bringing employees up here to do the work?"
Paul shrugged. "I'll decide that once I've looked the place over."
"Or you'll just have to accept that we'll be staying to help you," Joe shot back.
"Matt?" Paul said, pleading.
Matt gave his head a shake. "Sorry Paul, I'm with Joe on this one. It'll be quicker and cheaper if the three of us just knuckle under and get it done. Besides, we could all use a break from our jobs, and the B-and-B isn't such a bad place. We've stayed in worse."
Their first apartment had been a one-bedroom walk-up in a dump of a neighbourhood and the building had been condemned shortly after they had moved on to better, though not yet bigger, places.
The problem with having two brothers was that when they ganged up there was no arguing with them. Paul had tried going behind their backs and it hadn’t worked out so well. So he sighed and nodded. "Alright. I’ll take a good look around; we'll start moving stuff out of here tomorrow. Maybe Joe, you can see about getting us somewhere to store the furniture until the renovations are done. Matt, give Mrs. Barbour a call and let her know we're extending our stay, though somehow I don't think it'll be an issue."
Matt shook his head, not bothering to hide his smile. When his older brother started barking orders he didn’t argue without good reason, and since they’d already won one battle, why start a fight over who was in charge? “Don’t lose track of the time, alright? You’re meeting Angie back at the bed and breakfast at 1pm.”
“I’ll be there,” Paul grumbled and tossed Matt the keys. “Or, I’ll call. Don’t worry.”
Once he was alone in the house he took a good look around, the business part of his mind blocking the memories as he started making a mental to-do list.
~~~
It was well after noon and he had filled the back side of all four pages of the will with the list of jobs that needed to be done around the house, their house, before they could off-load it on someone looking for the small-town life and move on. Thankfully the building was structurally sound, but the sheer amount of disrepair had been staggering.
The roof needed new shingles in a few places, but luckily it had been a dry year and there was no water damage, yet. There were all the cosmetic details that needed to be taken care of, including new carpet in one bedroom, new fixtures in the bathroom, replace the stair rails and both screen doors, and a few cracks in the plaster that would have to be repaired. The insulation in the attic needed replacing, and insulation had gotten expensive with the energy-efficient trends in house building. They would need new, or at least newer, appliances, and new frames on half the windows. The electrical, furnace, and fireplace, would all have to be given a safety inspection by professionals, which would cost since they were so far from the city. Outside was just as bad. The porch had to be rebuilt completely and the rest of the yard needed to be cleaned. The fence and gate needed repair and everything would need a fresh coat of paint or stain.
And he had lost track of time completely. It was only luck that he had finished the job before 1pm though he wouldn’t be able to fit in both lunch and the walk back to the bed and breakfast. He picked up his cellphone and called Mrs. Barbour’s number.
“Barnes Lake Bed and Breakfast, Angie speaking. How may I help you?”
“Angie, this is Paul Anderson. I’ve just finished up at the house. Could you pick me up at the store at one?”
“That’s not a problem, Paul. Matt swung by to tell my mom you were staying and Joe told us all about the house.”
“Were they at the bed and breakfast all morning?”
“Joe was, but we didn’t see him, except when he came down for lunch, he’s already back in his room. Matt was out at Mr. Jayson’s garage all morning and hasn’t been back. Oh, hold on.” There were voices in the background, muffled by a hand over the receiver, and then Angie’s cheerful voice again. “Mom wants to know if you’ve eaten.”
“I’ll pick something up at the store,” he said gruffly. I’ve taken care of me and mine for nine years; I don’t need anyone making my lunch.
“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”
~~~
The walk was a familiar one for Paul. He had walked everywhere as a child, at first with his mom, later with his brothers or on his own. He was sure he would have forgotten all the details, replaced them with new street names and businesses and neighbors he had learned and seen and met since moving away, but as he passed each house they came back to him. Here was the creepy house that the kids had all avoided, though it had a fresh coat of white paint and new trim in a robin’s egg blue and it looked friendly and cheerful now. Across the street was Ms. Babok’s house where the lilac bushes grew over and through the fence; he had given his mother countless flowers stolen from those bushes over the years. There was Billy’s house, and Corey’s, and Matt’s friend Evan was back lane neighbors with Corey.
He turned onto the main street and into the little grocery store, pausing to glance down the block to where Mr. Jayson’s garage stood next to the only gas station. Here at the grocery store things had changed with the times and he didn’t recognize the kid behind the cash register, and though she couldn’t have remembered him either she still smiled cheerfully at him. Kid might have been an exaggeration; she was probably close to Joe’s age, but Paul had already slipped into the habit of thinking of every young person as a kid.
He grabbed a bottle of pop and walked along the back wall looking for the sandwiches. He was looking over the selection of handmade, cling wrapped subs when someone said his name in a delightfully feminine voice. He looked up, hoping to see Angie in her flattering suit, but saw a blonde woman with a baby on her hi
p, a child beside her, and a warm smile on her face.
“Paul Anderson, it is you. I heard rumors you might be in town but I never thought I’d bump into you. I didn’t see you at your father’s service.”
“I didn’t go,” he said, still studying her.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” She laughed and the sound was a familiar one.
“I’m sorry, no.” He felt his cheeks flush.
“That’s okay, it’s been so long. I’m Shirley, we graduated together.”
Finally he realized why her smile and her laugh had felt so familiar. “Shirley White,” he said. “I do remember you; I just didn’t recognize you without the ponytail.”
She laughed again. “It’s Bryant now. I married Jeff Bryant.”
The name was vaguely familiar, but it had been so long since he’d thought about anyone from town, and if Jeff had been a year or even two older then he and Shirley they’d have barely known each other in school. “Congratulations.”
“Thank-you.” The older child, a boy with copper hair and freckles, began to whine and tug at her arm. “I have to keep moving but we should have coffee one day, before you leave again. I’ll call you at Mrs. Barbour’s later.” And then she was gone.
Angie found Paul standing in the cooler aisle with a bottle of pop in one hand and a sub in the other. He was staring but at what Angie couldn’t tell. She lightly touched his elbow and he seemed to startle at the touch. He looked down at her, a dazed look on his face.
He swallowed hard and nodded, “Yeah.”
“You know, I could have brought you a better lunch.”
“It’s fine. I’ll just pay and meet you out at the car.”
“You don’t like favours, do you?” She studied him, amused that he actually squirmed.
“I’ll be out in a moment.” He stepped past her and strode purposefully down the aisle.
She watched his back for a moment and sighed. “There’s something going on with you,” she whispered. “There always was. You didn’t let me in back in high school, but maybe you’ll let me in now.”
Chapter 5
The street leading into the subdivision, which had been freshly paved when Paul had hired on to haul drywall as a teenager, was crumbling from nine years of being ignored. Paul capped his drink and held on tight to the door frame. Between Angie’s attempts to swerve around the cracks and potholes, and the bumps from the ones she couldn’t miss, it was proving to be one wild ride.
“You could slow down a little,” he said as her poor, aging car bounced over a crack. “Or Matt is going to have to fix this poor machine before we leave.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sort of excited. And I’m used to this road already. It’s actually amazing that the whole town isn’t like this yet, what with having to bring the road crew up from Moose Lake every summer to fix the worst of it at a horrible expense.”
“I’m glad they aren’t like this!”
“Oh come on, there must be roads worse than this.”
“Sure,” Paul agreed. “But civilized people don’t drive on them, or build their houses alongside them!”
She laughed, braked hard, and pulled into a driveway. “Here we are. The few guys in town with any construction experience tell me this is probably the worst of the lot. These houses were supposed to replace the trailer park and encourage growth in the town’s population. But you already knew that.”
“Sure, but I don’t know why it failed. I mean the trailer park part.”
She held the door open for him. “After you.”
“Isn’t it ‘ladies first’?” He smiled at her.
“In this case it would be more chivalrous of you to go in first, in case the floor collapses.”
He chuckled and stepped across the threshold. “And who said chivalry was dead?”
She followed him in, rooting through her gigantic purse. “I’m sorry, there’s no power and the windows are pretty dirty. But I do have a flashlight.”
It wasn’t that dark but Paul accepted the offered light. It was silver and larger than a penlight but it still looked ridiculously tiny in Paul’s hand. “This is a flashlight?”
“I only have it for buyers who want to look under the sinks,” she defended.
He smiled. He found he was doing that a lot with Angie. As he relaxed, her teasing stopped, embarrassing him and started amusing him. He tried to stay focused on the job at hand but he soon found himself laughing, really laughing, at her little jokes, and catching spiders to make her yelp. Paul hadn’t dated at all after that first dinner with Shirley when he was sixteen, not until he’d left Barnes Lake. There had been a few girls, especially Shirley, who had shown interest in him right up until he’d left town but Paul hadn’t been interested in giving his father any excuses to beat him.
The girls he had dated in the last nine years had been nothing like Angie. They had a bitchy idea of what was funny and a petty mindset. Sure, they had been beautiful, and Paul had even slept with a few of them, but none of them had lasted more than a month or two and it had been at least two years since Paul had bothered seeing anyone romantically. No time was the excuse he kept feeding his brothers. And what right do they have to judge. Neither of them brings girls home for dinner.
Angie touched his arm. “Hey, you zoned out there for a moment. Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “I guess the basement is next.”
“Right this way.” She wasn’t frowning but Paul could sense that, for some reason, some of the good mood had dissipated.
The stairs creaked dangerously as Paul put his weight on them. He looked up over his shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to come down with me. After all, who knows how big the spiders are down here.”
Angie shivered. “Thanks for that. I’ll wait up here.”
The stairs, it turned out, were safer than they sounded and aside from being dusty, cobwebby, and completely unfinished, the basement looked to be in marginally better condition than the rest of the house. Coming back up the stairs he said, “Well, I think I’m all done here,” before realizing that Angie wasn’t waiting there for him.
His normal reaction of irritation was overwhelmed by disappointment and concern. Then he heard her voice drifting from the direction of what would have been the kitchen and he relaxed. He leaned against the door frame, intending to mentally organize everything he had to tell her about the house, but instead found himself smiling over spiders.
She’s just adorable when she yelps, he thought. She looks so sophisticated, and a little sexy, in those professional realtor’s clothes, and then you show her a spider and she’s eight years old again.
He could remember her at eight, and at eighteen. They’d been in the same class for thirteen years and attended the same church even longer than that. He remembered her being so different from the other girls, them with their short, high, ponytails, and Angie with her waist long, nearly black braid. It was the Irish on her mother’s side that gave her the dark hair, piercing green eyes and the rich voice that was quick to laugh. His smile broadened but at the same time he felt an ache in his heart. He had ignored her through high school, and after when they had both been working in town, and he had no intentions of staying now.
“Sorry about that, it was the mayor. The council really wants to fix up the town.” She smiled at him. “So, what do you think of the place?”
He put on his biggest, cheesiest grin, and said, “I’m sold! When do I move in?” As she laughed, he said, “Obviously it needs new appliances. The previous company probably pulled them out to recoup some losses. Roof is structurally sound but needs some new shingles, and the plumbing is good. Electric should be checked in case some wires have been chewed. Foundation is good, furnace is good, though I’m surprised it got left behind, and the stairs are good. The whole thing needs a good scrubbing and a coat of paint and you may want to replace the carpets to reduce allergens.”
“Is that all?” she laughed. “It sounds expensi
ve.”
“Maybe a little, yeah. Supplies will be the biggest expense. Shingles run a pretty penny, what with oil prices so high.”
She frowned at him.
“They use asphalt in most shingles. Asphalt needs oil, just like gasoline does.”
“Oh.” She blinked a few times, owlish. “I would not have guessed that. Well, shall we move on?”
They looked at two other houses. One had severe water damage because of a leaky roof, the other had a few boarded up windows. “We had a storm,” she explained. “A small tree hit this side of the house.”
“If all you got were a few broken windows you got off lightly,” Paul replied. “Of course windows are a few hundred per, plus installation.”
“Just one more expense,” she sighed and led him back to the car.
“You might be better off pulling them down,” Paul said. “A salvage company could take them down piece-by-piece so you could sell off all the usable materials and use the rubble to fill in the foundations.”
Angie shook her head. She drove slower as she headed back towards Main Street. “I don’t want the town to get smaller; I want to see it grow again. I want those houses repaired and full of laughing children. I want the street repaved. I want the church repaired and someone under the age of sixty to join the choir! This town could be beautiful if we could keep it alive.”
Paul laughed. “I think this town has been dying for a long time and it’s not going to get better.”
She glared at him. “Just because you gave up on this town for nine years doesn’t mean that the rest of us have.”
His laughter died abruptly. “Angie, there is no economy here. The population is dying faster than children are being born. Most of the teenagers leave for college or university and never come back. The ones that are here are stuck here because they couldn’t or didn’t get out when they had the chance.”
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