“I can’t argue with that.”
“He wants natural light, why can’t he just go outside, for Christ’s sake?”
“That’s what I asked him,” Ryan said.
“And what did he say?” Sandra was standing with her hands on her hips in her usual combat pose.
“There’s a breeze.”
“A breeze.”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, of all the …” After that, she grumbled some things that Ryan couldn’t quite make out.
Everyone was starting to gather around the big dinner table as Sandra brought out steaming serving bowls. Orin came in and found his seat, then Redmond lumbered in after him. Breanna and the boys were the last to find their seats before the bowls and platters started making their way clockwise around the table.
“What’s this about a skylight?” Orin asked, putting some pot roast on his plate.
“That pain-in-the-rear artist out there in the cottage wants a skylight in the old barn,” Sandra filled him in. “Because there’s a breeze.”
Orin screwed up his face into a mask of puzzlement. “Well, that’s just …”
“That’s what I said,” Sandra told him.
Breanna was putting food onto the boys’ plates, reasoning with them that yes, they did need to have some of the broccoli, and no, they couldn’t just eat rolls and butter. Having done that, she joined the conversation.
“Lighting is important to an artist,” she put in.
“It’s a barn,” Redmond observed. “It’s not supposed to be some fancy artist’s studio. He wants to use it that way, okay, but it’s still just a barn.”
“What’d that Gen Porter say when you told her no?” Orin asked, a forkful of mashed potatoes poised in front of him.
Ryan looked down at the food on his plate. He had the same mashed potatoes, broccoli, and roasted carrots as everyone else, but he had a pile of quinoa pilaf where the pot roast should have been. “Well … I told her I’d see what I could do.”
“You what ?” Sandra boomed.
He poked his fork at his food and shrugged. “It’s just a skylight. It’s one day’s work.”
“Can I help?” Lucas asked, his face alight.
“Me too!” Michael said.
“That’s a pretty dangerous job, because you have to get on the roof,” Breanna told them. “You’d better let your uncle Ryan do it.”
“I could get on the roof,” Michael said. “I did it before.”
“What? When did you get on the roof?” Breanna demanded.
“With Grandpa Orin,” he said brightly.
Breanna gave her father a pointed look.
“Well …” Orin said.
“It may be one day’s work,” Sandra said, getting the conversation back on track, “but it’s one day’s work during calving season.”
“It’s not like we can’t afford to lose him for one day,” Redmond said, pointing his fork in Sandra’s direction. “The new hands we brought in for the calving are pretty much up to speed.”
“Whose side are you on?” Sandra demanded.
“Look. I’ll just put in the skylight, make the artist happy, and that’ll be that,” Ryan told her.
“Why are you so keen on making this artist happy?” she wanted to know.
“Well, I …” Ryan fidgeted and shrugged.
“I think it might be Gen Porter he wants to make happy,” Breanna supplied.
Ryan looked up, started to say something, then stopped and looked back down at his plate.
“Is that so?” Sandra asked. Ryan didn’t answer her.
“I can just tell her to forget the skylight,” Ryan said to his mother after a lengthy pause.
She cocked her head for a moment, considering.
“No. I figure we can spare you for a day. You just go ahead and put in a damned skylight.”
Breanna grinned, and Ryan went back to his quinoa.
Ryan told Jackson, Daniel, and Will about the pain-in-the-ass artist and the skylight that night at Ted’s, a bar off Main Street where they sometimes gathered after work to play pool or have a few beers and blow off the steam from their day. They were seated around a small, round table with a pitcher of beer between them, a pile of peanut shells growing in the middle of the table as they shelled and munched nuts.
“And the thing is, I don’t even know how to put in a skylight,” Ryan said. “I guess I could Google it.”
“You need some help?” Will offered. “It’ll give me an excuse to put off working on my dissertation.” Will was working on a doctorate in evolutionary biology, and he worked as a caretaker at a mansion up the coast because it allowed him time to study a particular species of sea bird that lived in and around Cambria.
“How’s that coming, anyway?” Daniel asked Will. “We any closer to having to call you Dr. Bachman?”
Will shook his head sadly and looked into his beer mug. “I don’t think you’ll have to get used to that phrase anytime soon.” He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. “So, yeah. A skylight would give me something else to think about.”
“Appreciate it,” Ryan said. “It’ll be good to have someone there to call 9-1-1 when I fall off the roof.”
Ryan was sitting in a straight-backed chair with his long legs stretched out, his feet propped up on another chair, legs crossed at the ankles. He shelled peanuts and popped them into his mouth.
“Surprised you could make it tonight,” he said to Jackson. “What with you being all coupled up. Why aren’t you at home with the missus?”
“We’re not married. Yet,” he said.
“Oh ho!” Daniel said, leaning forward in his chair and gesturing toward Jackson with his beer mug. “Yet!”
Will raised his eyebrows at Jackson. “Is there an imminent development we should know about? You getting ready to pop the question?”
“No, no.” Jackson waved them off. “Nothing like that. It’s just …” He ran a hand through his auburn hair. “Yeah. I can see it, you know? A future. Kids, the whole bit. I don’t think we’re ready yet, but …”
“Huh,” Ryan said.
“Yeah.” Jackson nodded thoughtfully, then took a slug from his beer. “Anyway. Kate’s having a girls’ night. The four of them are probably sprawled all over the living room right now, drinking margaritas and watching some weepy chick flick.”
“Ah, jeez. Sympathies,” Daniel said.
“No, no. It’s good.” Jackson nodded. “Kate’s friends make her happy, and if she’s happy, I'm happy.”
Ryan shook his head. “You’re gone, all right.”
“Yeah,” Jackson agreed. He grinned. “And you know what? I wouldn’t change it.”
“That’s sweet,” Daniel said. “Really. I think I’m tearing up a little bit.” He made a show of wiping imaginary tears from his cheeks.
“Ah, shut up. Asshole,” Jackson said mildly.
“So, I guess Gen’s at your place, then,” Ryan said.
“And Lacy,” Daniel added, waggling his eyebrows at Ryan.
“I notice he didn’t ask about Lacy,” Will observed. “He asked about Gen. What’s up with that? I thought you had your sights on our lovely blond barista.”
Ryan shrugged and looked at his beer. “Ah, that’s never gonna work out.”
“Finally,” Daniel said.
“ ‘Finally’ what?” Ryan asked.