Page 40 of The Woodcarver's Model
“Why do you let him stay? It’s your house, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”Why is he asking that?“I told you, my aunt left it to me in her will,” Mitch answered defensively.
Rob replied, “It’s just that he said something about coming by to check out his asset.”
“Kevin thinks Sarah should have left it to him, being the oldest. When he’s had too much to drink, he sort of gets it in his mind that that’s the way it is.”
“If he has no claim on the house, then you can just tell him to leave,” Rob reassured him.
“He’s my brother.”
Kevin came in from the porch. He smelled of cigarette smoke. “Coffee finally ready?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it,” Mitch said weakly.
Rob took control. “No. You guys sit down. I’ll fix breakfast.”
“Well,” Kevin said. “It’s been a long time since you served me breakfast. Does it still come with a little extra on the side?”
“Sorry, but this chef only works for one boss,” Rob calmly replied, giving Mitch a kiss on the head.
“Well, times really have changed.”
“Snap! Got me with that one, Kevie,” said Rob, putting the coffees down on the table.
“So, Robby. I hear you were over on Gabriola. What takes you there?”
“Just seeing someone about a legal matter connected to a writing job.”
“Writing? How long have you been doing that?”
“Gads…almost twenty years now?”
“Following in your old boyfriend’s footsteps?”
“Not quite,” Rob said, trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum.
“So, does writing pay any better than in the old days?”
“God no. Some things never change. But things could be worse. I could be a poet.” Kevin laughed at that. The first honest sound out of his mouth since he’d seen him.
“That was a standing joke we had in school,” Kevin explained to his brother.
“So, what do you specialise in?” Kevin asked.
“Travel.”
“Like those articles in airplane magazines?”
“If that’s who’s buying. Small magazines pay about four hundred unless you’ve got a name. Larger ones, four times that. I’m here writing a longer piece about Marsh Island.”
“Huh. I guess you have to write a lot just to pay the bills.”
“You should know by now that most writers don’t make a great living on what they love to do.”
Mitch could see what Kevin was doing, but Mitch didn’t care if Rob made a lot of money writing. He had enough money to keep both of them…
Then a small spark went off in Mitch’s brain, so small he barely noticed. Even in the dark. It was a spark of doubt, and a spark of doubt could easily cast a shadow of doubt. The small seed planted by his brother had begun to germinate.
