Page 24 of The Cajun Doctor

“I know,” Aaron said, with not an ounce of regret. “By the way, you owe me twenty-five thousand dollars for your half of the down payment.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Don’t tell me you’re short of cash.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who sold half of an air shipping company for a bundle.”

“No, you’re the one who made a killing in IT stocks before they crashed.”

A stalemate.

They both got out of the pickup truck and stood, scanning the building and grounds. Daniel idly kicked a black snake out of the way. They’d both become accustomed to the reptiles after living in this semitropical climate. There must be a thousand varieties here, and they bred like sex machines. Snake heaven!

Taking center stage was a once-stately, raised-style plantation house, three stories above an open loggia, or verandah, or porch, or whatever the hell you called it. Massive wood columns, at least fifty feet high, stretched from the ground to the top of roofed galleries that encircled all sides of the mansion’s second and third stories. A wide staircase rose majestically to the middle of the second floor, which was obviously the main living quarters, the norm here in bayou land where you only had to dig a foot to reach water.

“It’s a Creole building in the Greek Revival Style, in case you aren’t familiar with historical architecture in the Southland.”

Daniel looked at his brother as if he’d grown two heads and remarked, “Bite me!”

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. It’s not as run-down as it looks,” Aaron said.

Daniel raised his brows skeptically.

“Okay, so it needs a little work.”

“Like new plumbing, electricity, a roof, landscaping, and paint?”

“Yeah, but other than that it has great potential. Besides, we can both work on restoring the place in our spare time.” Spare time being the key words here. While Aaron worked as a pilot for Remy LeDeux, Daniel did pretty much nothing, in Aaron’s opinion. Therefore, the not-so-hidden message here was that Aaron thought it was time for Daniel to stop licking his wounds and get a life. Although why Aaron would think turning him into a carpenter was a step toward getting a life defied understanding.

“Aaron, what makes you think that you or I have the talent for restoration?”

“How hard can it be to sand wood and pound nails? Don’t you ever watch Home and Garden on TV? Oops, I forgot. You don’t have a TV. It’ll be our DIY project. That’s code for Do It Yourself. What we need is a trip to Home Depot.”

“What we need is brain transplants if we take this on.”

“Do they transplant brains now? Golly, gee, ain’t science amazing!”

“Aaarrgh!”

“C’mon, Dan. We can do it. Remember that time in wood shop when we made those little cars for the Pinewood Derby?”

“You idiot! We were cub scouts. And my car looked like a brick with wheels. Yours was lopsided and wouldn’t roll, even down the inclined plane.”

“We can learn.”

Daniel leaned against one of the columns and his elbow broke through. They both went wide-eyed at how rotten the wood was.

“Seems the termites have been kissing the oak,” Aaron remarked with dry humor.

“Who are you kidding? The termites have fucked that wood to dust.”

“Guess they should have used cypress. That’s more resistant to pests, according to Tante Lulu. That’s what we’ll use in restoration. She knows someone that can give us a truckload cheap.”

“That is just great. Why don’t you just make the old lady building supervisor and be done with it.”

“Good idea,” Aaron said as he checked the sturdiness of the steps with his boot, then sat down, elbows on knees, chin braced in his palms.

“You better be kidding.” Daniel sank down beside him. “Why did you do this? And why involve me?”