would follow. She did, but not very enthusiastically. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The same stale, unmoving heat that had greeted me and Deputy Ernst on Thursday greeted Gracie and me now. First thing Monday morning, I would call the utility company and turn everything back on. August in Florida meant we needed air conditioning. And if we were going to do any real deep cleaning, we’d need running water too. Even if it was tea-colored.
I handed her a garbage bag and a pair of gardening gloves. “Let’s start in this room and see how far we get.”
I put on a pair of gloves and started picking up the bigger chunks of glass, scattered bits of smashed rotary phone, and smaller parts of ruined chairs. I threw the glass into a cardboard box and the rest into a bag. The bigger partsof the chairs, I gathered into a pile outside. Most likely, we’d need to rent a Dumpster. If Gracie was right about the reviews, and the carpet in the rooms really did smell like cat pee, then it would have to go. I swept the remaining dust and debris from the floor into the dustpan, dumped the pile into Gracie’s bag, tied them both up, then put them beside the broken chairs outside beneath the portico.
Sweat had soaked through my T-shirt, and Gracie’s black bangs had plastered themselves to her forehead. We’d left the door open in an attempt to get some air flow, but it still felt like we were working inside a sauna. We took a break outside in the shade. Gracie and I gulped from the bottles of water we’d purchased at a gas station along the way.
“How did you sleep in there for three nights?” I asked, wiping beads of sweat from my forehead with my shirt sleeve.
“Uncomfortably.”
A breeze swept in from the ocean and although it was muggy air, at least it was moving. I picked up a crowbar from one of the buckets. If we were going to keep working, I needed to pry some boards off the windows. I jammed the end of the crowbar beneath one of the plywood boards over an unbroken window to the left of the door.
Gracie leaned against a support beam and watched.
“Ben talked to the principal at Bay Breeze. He said they called to have your transcripts sent. You’re all set to start on Monday.” I gave the crowbar a few yanks and pried the board loose. “Maybe after we’re done here we can grab a bite to eat and get some school supplies.”
Gracie said nothing.
I set the board beside the garbage bags and got to work on another. “We could grab a slice of pizza at Bruno’s. They have an excellent selection.”
Still no response, so we returned inside. Gracie engaged in a halfhearted battle with the dust while I continued on the windows. I left the broken ones alone, but attacked the others with a bottle of Windex and a couple of rags in an attempt to get rid of both the stubborn grime from the glass and my growing frustration with my sister, until my muscles burned in protest.
Gracie batted at cobwebs in the corners of the room with a broom. They gathered on the bristles like a thick net and stuck to her fingers when she tried removing them. “So why don’t you and Ben have any kids?”
The question stopped me mid-Windex spray.
It was a Gracie-fied version of
the
question. The one people usually asked with a little more tact and an expectant smile.
“When are you and Ben going to have kids?”
As if having a child was simply a matter of choice. I finished spraying and gave her the answer I gave everybody else. “We hope to someday.”
If the video didn’t mess everything up.
I glanced at my phone sitting on top of the now-cleaned front desk. Whenever it rang, my stomach cramped and my heart raced so quickly I got lightheaded. The video and its possible repercussions had placed an invisible thundercloud over my head. Thinking about it now made the muscles in my shoulders tighten and the air in the front office stuffier. “I’m, uh, going to start on the hospitality room.”
Gracie went to work on another
I handed her a garbage bag and a pair of gardening gloves. “Let’s start in this room and see how far we get.”
I put on a pair of gloves and started picking up the bigger chunks of glass, scattered bits of smashed rotary phone, and smaller parts of ruined chairs. I threw the glass into a cardboard box and the rest into a bag. The bigger partsof the chairs, I gathered into a pile outside. Most likely, we’d need to rent a Dumpster. If Gracie was right about the reviews, and the carpet in the rooms really did smell like cat pee, then it would have to go. I swept the remaining dust and debris from the floor into the dustpan, dumped the pile into Gracie’s bag, tied them both up, then put them beside the broken chairs outside beneath the portico.
Sweat had soaked through my T-shirt, and Gracie’s black bangs had plastered themselves to her forehead. We’d left the door open in an attempt to get some air flow, but it still felt like we were working inside a sauna. We took a break outside in the shade. Gracie and I gulped from the bottles of water we’d purchased at a gas station along the way.
“How did you sleep in there for three nights?” I asked, wiping beads of sweat from my forehead with my shirt sleeve.
“Uncomfortably.”
A breeze swept in from the ocean and although it was muggy air, at least it was moving. I picked up a crowbar from one of the buckets. If we were going to keep working, I needed to pry some boards off the windows. I jammed the end of the crowbar beneath one of the plywood boards over an unbroken window to the left of the door.
Gracie leaned against a support beam and watched.
“Ben talked to the principal at Bay Breeze. He said they called to have your transcripts sent. You’re all set to start on Monday.” I gave the crowbar a few yanks and pried the board loose. “Maybe after we’re done here we can grab a bite to eat and get some school supplies.”
Gracie said nothing.
I set the board beside the garbage bags and got to work on another. “We could grab a slice of pizza at Bruno’s. They have an excellent selection.”
Still no response, so we returned inside. Gracie engaged in a halfhearted battle with the dust while I continued on the windows. I left the broken ones alone, but attacked the others with a bottle of Windex and a couple of rags in an attempt to get rid of both the stubborn grime from the glass and my growing frustration with my sister, until my muscles burned in protest.
Gracie batted at cobwebs in the corners of the room with a broom. They gathered on the bristles like a thick net and stuck to her fingers when she tried removing them. “So why don’t you and Ben have any kids?”
The question stopped me mid-Windex spray.
It was a Gracie-fied version of
the
question. The one people usually asked with a little more tact and an expectant smile.
“When are you and Ben going to have kids?”
As if having a child was simply a matter of choice. I finished spraying and gave her the answer I gave everybody else. “We hope to someday.”
If the video didn’t mess everything up.
I glanced at my phone sitting on top of the now-cleaned front desk. Whenever it rang, my stomach cramped and my heart raced so quickly I got lightheaded. The video and its possible repercussions had placed an invisible thundercloud over my head. Thinking about it now made the muscles in my shoulders tighten and the air in the front office stuffier. “I’m, uh, going to start on the hospitality room.”
Gracie went to work on another
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