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He scuffs his shoe against the floor.
“Whatever,” I say, still trying to sound cheerful. “You can hang at the house as much as you want.” And if you could do some work around the place, that would be great.
“Thanks,” he grumbles. “Anyway, like I said, the roofer swung by to pick up those tools he left behind, and he asked about some check we owe him.”
“Yeah.” I reach for my hair and spin a strand nervously between two fingers. “Shoot. What’d you tell him?”
“Said you were at work, but I’d talk to you about it. He’ll be back later this afternoon to grab the scrap shingles.”
“Thanks. I guess when he stops over again, tell him I’ll have it for him next Friday at the latest. That’s payday, and I’m getting a big bonus.”
“Cool. Will do…” He frowns down at the floor. “So, like, you don’t have it now?”
“No.”
“Not even in savings?”
“Not even in savings.”
“And all Grandma’s money’s gone?”
“That’s been gone for a long time, Clay.”
“What about those credit cards you talked about?” he asks. “Or the loan or whatever?”
I have been very careful to keep the worrisome financial details of my life away from my sensitive brother. Today will be no exception. “I’ll figure it out,” I say rather than answer him.
“I didn’t realize the budget was so tight.”
“It’s cool. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay…”
Now is the time when I should suggest he chip in more. If he helped out with the house, we wouldn’t have to pay contractors. The kitchen floor is the next project on the tick-list.
But when I look at him, I see how childlike he looks despite his actual age of twenty-eight. He seems so discouraged, too. I can’t bear putting financial worries onto his already-stooped shoulders.
I want to encourage him. Support him. Build him up, not tear him down by stressing him out about our real estate purchase.
So, instead of bringing up the kitchen floor project, I smooth my palms over the Windsor Gazette. “Hey, did you see this article about the castle?”
He drops down so he’s crouched by my side, balanced on the balls of his feet. Now he’s at eye-level with my desk. “Nah, haven’t seen it. What’s up?” He sounds relieved to be off the topic of finances.
As relieved as I am.
“I’m not exactly sure,” I say. “I tried to read it, but I’ve been super distracted.”
Clay’s eyes scan the text. “Looks like they’re closing down the Queen’s Room.”
“Oh no! Really? Grandma loved that room.” I stoop over the page and now begin to read in earnest.
And as I read, I think about my grandmother, Regina Temple.
The Isabella Heins Frederick Castle was my Grandma Regina’s favorite part of this town. When I was a girl, she loved to take Clay and me up there on Local’s Day, where Windsor folks could get in for free.
I remember how she would let us run around on the paths and play hide and seek in the mazes of sculpted shrubbery.
“Didn’t Grandma say something to you about that room when she was in the hospital?” Clay asks.
