Free Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors by Sr. David O. Dyer Page A

began unpacking the boxes of computer equipment, placing the components on the bare study table, crushing packing material into an emptied carton and saving the remaining boxes for storage.
    The sound of the doorbell startled him. It was more of a chime than a ringing or buzzing alert. It took him a few seconds to identify the sound, and when he entered the hallway, Sandra was emerging from the library.
    “I'll get it,” she said.
    He followed. His curiosity about their first visitor made him unwilling to let Sandra be the first to know.
    Bobby Elliott, his bulk no longer frightening, removed his cap when Sandra opened the door.
    “Clean house,” Bobby said expressionless.
    Bobby had spoken to Sandra, but Tim, not sure if Bobby was asking a question or making a statement, replied, “Come on in Bobby. I need to talk with you."
    Bobby followed Tim's gesture and trailed him to the study. Sandra, uninvited, followed also.
    When they were seated, Tim briefly considered telling Sandra that her presence was not needed, but quickly dismissed the impulse.
    “Bobby, it looks like I may stay in Dot after all. I can't say for sure, but that is the direction I am leaning towards right now."
    Bobby replied only with his stony face, eyes locked on Tim's eyes.
    “What were your responsibilities when you worked for Uncle Pete?"
    “Clean house. Wash clothes. Car. Truck. Cook sometimes. Fix things. Errands."
    “Sort of a handyman."
    With a single nod of his head, Bobby agreed.
    “You don't like me much, do you Bobby?"
    “Don't know yet. Like Mrs."
    Tim laughed. “Fair enough.” He fished a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. “Cigarette?” he asked extending the pack towards Bobby.
    “Don't smoke."
    “Mind if Sandy and I do?"
    Bobby answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
    Exhaling the smoke from the first drag on the unfiltered cigarette through his nose, Tim continued. “What kind of schedule did you follow?"
    “Clean house Tuesday, Friday. Yard Monday, Wednesday. Thursday miscellaneous."
    Bobby's use of the word “miscellaneous” seemed out of character to Tim. “And for your work Uncle Tim let you live in a tenant house and paid you $500 a week?"
    “$500 month,” Bobby corrected.
    “Would you like to continue to work for me, doing pretty much the same thing?"
    “Yes."
    “I would like that too. I especially need your knowledge of the farm. I don't like what Uncle Pete was paying you though."
    “Can't work for less."
    Tim laughed again. “I don't see how you can live on $500 a month, even if you don't have to pay rent. I was thinking about $500 a week. That would be $26,000 a year, plus the house, of course."
    Sandra's eyebrows raised involuntarily.
    “Don't need that much,” Bobby deadpanned.
    Ignoring Bobby's comment, Tim said, “I don't like the looks of the shack you're living in, even if it does look better inside. Mr. Coan told me there is a total of twelve tenant houses. Are any of them in better condition than yours?"
    “Yes."
    “Then I want you to move immediately into the best one."
    “No."
    “What?"
    “Born in house. Mamma, daddy die in house."
    Tim was silent for a moment. “Can the house be fixed up, Bobby?"
    “Yes. Need roof, siding, furnace, paint. Wiring bad."
    “How about air conditioning, insulation, carpeting?"
    “Cost too much."
    “How much?"
    “Don't know."
    “Do you know a contractor who can do the work?"
    “Brother."
    “Your brother is a contractor?”
    “Carpenter. Good. Drinks too much. Lost job. Good man."
    “So you think you and your brother can do a good job remodeling the house?"
    “Yes. How much you pay?"
    “I don't know much about this sort of thing. I trust you. Let's try not to go over $50,000."
    Sandra's eyebrows went up again.
    “Not cost that much,” Bobby said as he stood up.
    “How about your furniture?” Sandra asked.
    “Old."
    “Thanks, Sandy. I didn't think of that. I want you to get new furniture too,” Tim said.
    “Is there any