Free Turn Signal by Howard Owen

it’s maybe a 40-mile round trip. Sandy and Jack live only five miles away.
    Either of them might have mentioned that if Jack was so sentimental about getting together with his older siblings, he might invite them to dinner more than twice a year. Even when Jack lived in the farmhouse, he and Gina didn’t socialize that much with them.
    What Jack has in mind today is more than a second homecoming in two days, though. One was more than enough.
    Within 45 minutes, they’ve laid waste to most of the chicken, potato salad, baked beans and rolls, and Sandy has carefully put everything that’s left in the trash bag, and then taken it out and put it in the back of the Cherokee.
    When she returns, Jack takes a deep breath and dives in.
    â€œI wanted to talk with you all about something, an idea I have.”
    The look his brother and sister give each other is familiar. He used to get that look all the time when he was growing up, from any of the four other people in his family. Sandy appears tolerantly amused. Mike just has that “here we go again” expression. Jack remembers the last time he saw it: When he told him about Brady’s last job, which, dammit, had promise. It just didn’t work out. He looked that way when Jack told him he was going to write the best damn novel anybody ever read, too.
    Shit, Jack thinks. I haven’t even started, and they’ve already said no.
    Still, he plunges forward. There’s nowhere else to go now.
    He spells it out carefully, step by step, as if he were approaching a couple of stray dogs that would turn and run at the first false move. When it comes to money, his older siblings tend to proceed with caution. And any plan involving Brady and money would tend to make some people cautious, he concedes.
    What he proposes is that they let Brady stay in the house, “renting with an option to buy,” paying $400 a month for the next two years while he saves some money and gets his feet on the ground.
    â€œIt would give us a chance to keep the house in the family,” he says. “And Brady was the one who stayed here with Mom, made it possible for her not to have to move to some retirement home.”
    â€œShe knew she could have stayed with us, anytime she wanted. All she had to do was ask,” Sandy says, tears welling up. Jack is pretty sure both his siblings loved their mother, but he doesn’t recall anyone volunteering to have her come and stay for more than a long weekend. At least he can admit that. Mike and Sandy seemed relieved that Brady stayed after Jack and his wife and daughter moved into their new home.
    Mike uncrosses his legs and leans forward.
    â€œNow, I thought we had this all settled,” he says.
    â€œI was outvoted, two to one. I’m just proposing another way of doing things is all. A way to keep it in the family, give Brady a chance to buy it from us.”
    â€œHe can buy it anytime he likes,” Mike says. “Hell, I’ll even take a couple of thousand off the asking price. Knock it down from 95 to 93.”
    Jack looks to Sandy, but his sister is going to let Mike speak for both of them, the same way he did when they decided to sell the place.
    â€œJack, look,” he says. “We can get almost $30,000 each, after the agent gets her cut, by selling it. You’re proposing that we take $400 a month in rent?”
    â€œJust for two years. Then he’ll buy it.”
    Mike shakes his head.
    â€œI can’t see it. I can’t see renting this place to Brady. I’m sorry.”
    â€œSo is it Brady, or the $400?”
    Mike hesitates, then looks out at the abandoned fields across the driveway.
    â€œOK. If you want to know. It’s some of both. Jack, I don’t know if there’ll be a house here in two years if he stays. This place needs some work. And I don’t know what all goes on here when you’re not around.” He looks up at the large hole in the screen.