Free Homecoming by Janet Wellington Page B

rather than someone she knew.”
    “Seems like she took good care of her.” Cory hadn’t said much about her profession, and he added to his list of questions tucked away for another day.
    “So what’s happening with the house? She leave it to you?”
    Jake shifted on the stool before he launched into telling the story for the umpteenth time. Sometimes he thought it would have been easier putting an ad in the local paper, get everyone up to date in one fell swoop. Everyone he ran into wanted to know what was going on...life in the small town hadn’t changed. “Tillie’s will requires us both to live there for three months in order for each of us to earn half the value of the house when it’s sold.” At least he’d gotten it down to one line.
    “Interesting,” Foster said, shoving a loose pencil behind his ear. “You two worked well together in school, so you should be able to put that old house together and get it ready to sell in that amount of time.”
    “It’s going pretty smoothly so far. She’s pretty organized; I just brought muscles to the table. I’m kind of enjoying working with my hands again. I worked construction day labor when I first hit Chicago, but now I’m just a ‘suit’ and go to meetings all day.”
    Foster nodded his approval, then said, “Did you ever figure out that I put you two together on purpose in my class?”
    “Cory always said it was fate.” He grinned, looking forward to bursting her happy little bubble.
    “Hah. I knew a good team when I saw one. Hey, those knobs Cory ordered finally came UPS yesterday—sorry about the delay. You here to pick ‘em up?”
    “And I’ve got a list of paint colors she wants.”
    “Let me see that.” He took the note from Jake and scratched his head. “I think I can substitute with something close...unless you want to special order.”
    “Close is fine. I want to start painting tomorrow unless that storm blows in.”
    “I’ll go get the knobs from the back and check the paint stock while I’m there. You sit tight.”
    ***
    Back at the house, Jake left the gallons of trim paint on the back porch, then put the paper bag of knobs and drawer pulls on the kitchen counter. They’d have to get to the kitchen soon. Things there hadn’t changed a bit since he’d arrived a month ago, even though Cory kept reassuring him it was coming up on her list. It looked like a lot of work to him and he wondered if she’d allowed enough time.
    But the yard looked great, and the outside of the house was completely prepped. Thankfully, all that was needed was trim work, though she’d insisted on a two-color scheme which was guaranteed to draw on his patience. And he’d be working on the extension ladder twice as much as he’d have to if she’d only picked one color. But, it wasn’t a hill he wanted to die on, finally agreeing the house would look good in the vintage colors.
    But the next day brought gray thunderclouds and steady rain. Bad for painting, but perfect for the flowers they’d planted. And the lilacs practically applauded the much needed shower.
    Jake felt antsy, though. The lack of electronic stimulation was hard for him. At his apartment he’d hooked up his CD player so as soon as he walked in and flipped on the lights, music played.
    He’d long given up pestering Cory about the lack of radio and television in the house, and had stooped to picking up the news from whoever was at The Java Hut or by scanning the weekly Faythe Bugle, sometimes digging days-old editions of the Sun Times out of the trash.
    So far the world hadn’t ended as far as he could tell, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Sometimes he felt like he might as well be on another planet.
    While the rain grew steady, not hinting at stopping, he spent half the day in the attic going through more boxes of junk, astounded again at what Tillie had saved. After lunch, he went through all the books in the study, copying down the titles carefully to make an inventory