Ken typically built a house, lived in it while he finished the interior work, then put it on the market, moving out of one project and into his next project. This one he bought from a guy who’d run out of money while building it. He’d liked the layout, and since the shell of the house had already been built, and the plumbing and wiring installed, he basically had to finish the interior work. “First bedroom on the left.” He wiped his hands together. “I’ll eat before I mix this water.”
The inside of the house smelled like freshly cut lumber and wet paint. Ken had installed the wood floors, but they lay smooth and bare. Cans of varnish sat stacked near the stone fireplace hearth.
Since he’d been there last, Ken had installed the kitchen counters and cabinets. The appliances still had stickers and plastic on them. He walked along the line of throw rugs Ken had thrown down to protect sanded flooring and entered the first bedroom on the left. Ken’s single bed sat on top of a concrete floor. Rolls of padding and carpet lay propped against the wall. In a cardboard box, he found jeans and a T-shirt. On the floor next to the bathroom door, he found Ken’s spare work boots.
He changed quickly, then went back outside. Ken had set up the meal on the end of a wire spool the size of a bar table. Two camp chairs sat side-by-side, and obviously coldwater bottles sat perched inside the chairs’ cup-holders, sweating in the evening air.
“Thanks for the food. Your text was a welcome blessing.”
“Wasn’t ready to get home.” He piled fish and fries on a paper plate, then the two brothers bowed their heads to seek God’s blessing on the meal. He bit into a salty fry. “How much more do you have to do here?”
Ken looked around, surveying beyond the lit space. “Need to finish the flooring, paint the back bedrooms, and do some interior trim work. I have offers in for four more lots down the road. I think they’ll sell better when there’s more than one house here.” He used his teeth to rip open a packet of malt vinegar and liberally sprinkled it on a piece of fish. “To answer the original question, maybe two weeks, less if I take a couple days off work.”
Brad knew Ken did most of the work himself. Other than certified electrical and mechanical contractors, he could do it all. It gave him a bigger profit margin when it came time to sell the house. “Floors look great.”
Ken looked back toward the house. “Yeah. Buddy helped me with them last week. I need to varnish them before they get too scuffed up by my boots.”
“I can do that tonight.”
“I could use help with getting the structure of this deck set, honestly.”
The rumbling of a truck engine interrupted the evening sounds. Brad saw the flash of headlights seconds before the engine shut off, followed by the sound of a door slamming. Seconds later, Jon came around the side of the house. Like the two of them, he wore jeans and a T-shirt and a pair of brown leather work boots. Unlike the two of them, he carried a six-pack of beer from a local brewery.
“House looks good,” he said, setting the beer on the makeshift table. He pulled one out and offered it to Ken, who held a hand up and shook his head.
“When have I ever?” Ken asked rhetorically.
“Pretend it’s a near beer.”
“I. Don’t. Want. It.”
Brad took it from Jon, twisting the top off and tossing it onto the table.
Jon looked at the house. “I haven’t seen it since I left. You were buying it then.”
“‘Bout done. It was different coming in and starting with an already set frame. Usually, I put it together in my head as I’m building it and know the flooring and trim work. This one, I had to sleep in for a few nights and let it speak to me.”
Jon grabbed a camp chair out of the back of Ken’s truck and set it up then fixed himself a plate. “I’ve missed good fish and chips.” He doused his fish and French fries with malted vinegar. “I could get fish and I could get fries, but they never tasted like this.”
Brad looked at his brother as he took a sip of the cold beer. The sharp hops flavor filled his mouth, the perfect flavor to accent the fish. “I’m jealous of that trip you took. I almost offered to do a twin switch with you.”
“Dad would have figured it out by the third day I was in a tie.” Jon laughed. He ate for a few minutes before adding, “I didn’t want to go, but I’m glad I did. Things became clear to me there.”
Ken laughed and tossed his paper plate and empty water bottle into the trash can. “You say that with every mission trip, too. You never want to go but you’re always glad you did.” Brad watched Jon’s face as Ken spoke and noted the thinned mouth and narrowed eyes. By the time Ken looked at him again, his face had relaxed.
Ken walked back over to the bag of concrete mix laying by the wheelbarrow. “I just want to set the posts tonight.”
Brad took another sip of beer and finished his last two fries. “You have us both tonight. Might as well get it built.”
“Then quit loafing.”
Brad chuckled and set his half-finished beer on the table, tossed his trash, and pulled on a pair of work gloves. The three of them had spent their entire lives building together, and worked as a unified team, barely having to speak directions. Instead, they worked in silence, the air filling with the sound of saws, hammers, and the scrape of tools against wood.
As he worked, he thought about what Jon said, about things becoming clear to him in Egypt. Should he just ask outright or let him come to them when he felt ready? Brad was torn. He wanted to talk to Ken about it but didn’t want to gossip. What should he do?
A few hours later, they sat on the newly built deck. Brad’s shoulders ached from the physical labor, but his spirit felt amazing. “Feels good to work. I was getting slack the last couple of weeks.”
Ken smirked. “Not quite pencil-pushing.”
