Brody inherited a fussiness gene from his mother. He knew that Dak was a good friend and understood the house would likely be in a state of disarray due to the moving in process, but he was still a guest. Mrs. Sexton always cleaned the house from top to bottom, put out fresh flowers, and sometimes even baked a pie if guests were coming over.

It was 2:00 a.m. before Brody fell into bed on Wednesday night. He spent the entire evening putting things away, sweeping and vacuuming floors and making sure he removed everything suspect out of the refrigerator. He was so exhausted that he didn’t have time to think about the fact that he was sleeping in his mother’s bed for the first time since the funeral.

Relieved that he wasn’t lying on an uncomfortable mattress that bowed in the middle, Brody fell fast asleep within minutes. He awoke at the first sounds from his alarm clock and rose out of bed as excitement over the evening with Dak started an adrenaline surge.

Brody frowned at the small pile of objects including recent bills, photos of Clyde Miller, and the laptop computer that rested on the dresser in the bedroom. He was using it as a makeshift table. He grumbled, “I’ll deal with it when I get home.”

Brody slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich heavy on the mayo for his lunch as he stood by the kitchen and stared out into the yard. He mowed the grass, but the flower beds were beginning to look shabby with weeds. Brody didn’t know how one person could hope to keep up with both the interior and the exterior of a house while continuing to work for a living.

Grabbing a bagel from the fridge and clamping it between his teeth, Brody picked up the paper bag with his lunch inside and rushed out the door. Although he woke up fifteen minutes early, he was already twenty minutes late for work. He filled the extra time obsessing about the condition of the house.

Home Pro was just ten minutes from opening when Brody breezed in. He waved to his employees, and they all sounded cheerful in return. Lacey was staring at her computer screen and poking it gently with her index finger mouthing numbers as if she was counting.

“Is there a problem, Lacey?” asked Brody.

“Oh! Mr. Sexton! You startled me. I assumed you would be late and work this evening. I figured our communication got crossed somehow.”

He grinned. “No problem there, but the screen?”

“I guess this isn’t really work.” Brody saw the sheepish look on her face. “One of my college friends moved to Indianapolis, and she claimed it has more Starbuck’s coffee shops than the Twin Cities. That’s her measure of the quality of a city.”

“So you’re trying to figure out if she’s right?” asked Brody.

“Yes, and I keep getting interrupted, and then I have to start over. Seb was in here a few minutes ago telling me about a horror movie he saw last week. Then we had a debate over which is better, roast beef or pork tenderloin. What do you think, Mr. Sexton?”

“Is anybody working?”

“Do I need to quote you?”

He laughed because he knew what she would say. At his last full staff meeting, Brody encouraged his employees to take fifteen or twenty minutes first thing in the morning to relax. He said that wasn’t always possible because you could walk in and have something waiting that needed urgent attention.

However, he strongly encouraged them to try and carve out the time to transition from whatever concerns they left at home to the operation of the store. Fifteen or twenty minutes of their own time first thing was useful for making the successful shift. He told them they could spend the time reading the news, talking to friends, or even sharing “water cooler” conversation. It wasn’t to be counted as official break time either.

Lacey said, “We were taking our fifteen minutes. I guess you took yours before you got here.” Lacey gave him a playful wink.

“Oh, it’s craziness,” said Brody. “I’ve got company tonight, and I’m acting just like my mom. Everything has to be perfect.”

“Just relax and transition, Mr. Sexton, leave those worries at home.”

Lacey was right, but Brody’s brain wasn’t cooperating. He finally decided to sit down for five minutes to write down the tasks to complete before Dak arrived. “Lacey, today is a day of doing what I say instead of what I do. I’m a horrible scatterbrain, and I need to leave by 4:00 p.m. Do you think you can hold things together until the evening shift takes over?”

“I’m the Zen master this morning. Consider it done.”

The day seemed to zip by, and Brody wasn’t sure if he completed any work of significance. He knew that he helped on the floor. One customer had difficulty deciding on a vacuum cleaner to purchase. Her choice ultimately hinged on the ability to pick up dog hair in her mudroom. She said, “It doesn’t have to be one of those expensive, fancy ones that pick up Fluffy’s leftovers from between the couch cushions. We only let Stanley in the mudroom. He has a very nice doghouse built into the corner of the garage. We keep it heated during most of the winter and bring him into the mudroom if the weather gets severe.”

Brody made a suggestion, and she responded, “But that’s plastic, and it looks cheap. I’m not sacrificing all quality just for the price.”

He suggested another model that was $50 more, and she asked, “Didn’t you hear that I didn’t need a fancy, expensive cleaner?”

In the end, she bought the cheapest vacuum cleaner in the inventory that could be called a real household machine. They had stick vacuums that were cheaper yet, but she insisted on a device she could use through the entire house. Brody stood by the product he sold, but he wondered if the customer would be unhappy. She was, after all, getting what she was paying for.

---

Brody left work at 4:00 p.m. on the dot. He was relieved that he didn’t need to stop at the grocery store and pick up food for dinner. Delivery pizza was the tradition, and he had plenty of beer in the fridge. He was prepared for the situation if Dak fell asleep watching TV on the couch. He had eggs, bacon, and cinnamon toast available for the morning wake up call.

If it happened, it wouldn’t be the first time for Dak falling asleep. Brody smiled when he thought about the peaceful appearance of Dak’s craggy countenance. His jaw, brow, and mouth all appeared to relax when he fell asleep. He was the picture of peace.

Brody had one stop to make before heading home. His mother always insisted on having fresh flowers on the dining room table when visitors first set foot in the house. That was the least of Brody’s concerns when he had Dak over to help move some of his mother’s belongings into storage. He was still working in the aftermath of the funeral, but he decided it was time to raise the Sexton standards again.

Brody bought two arrangements of delphinium mixed with white daisies. He decided to place one on the dining room table and the other on the coffee table in the living room. The flowers would move off the coffee table once the pizza arrived, but until then the house would be elegantly appointed with the magic of fresh blossoms.

As he dashed from room to room to make sure that everything was in order, Brody noticed the stack of items on the dresser in the bedroom. Growling to himself, he picked up the stack of photos in one hand and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser with the other.

Brody thought that he had finished cleaning the dresser drawer out when Dak helped him move items to the attic. The drawer still held a collection of his mom’s odds and ends. Multiple lanyards from attendance at professional conferences lay in a coil to one side. A small plastic bin held earrings and necklaces. Some were hopelessly tangled together. Then Brody saw something that stopped him cold.

The shiny gold surface stood out from the rest of the jewelry. Brody dug his fingers down to pull it out. As it emerged from the haphazard pile of other items, he saw that it was a wedding ring. He held it up close to his face so he could read the tiny inscription inside. He shivered when he read “Sylvia and Brady forever.” It also included a date, the anniversary date of his parents. It was his mother’s wedding ring.

Brody’s hand began to shake. He whispered to no one in particular, “She kept it. All of these years.”

His knees weakened, and he dropped the ring onto the surface of the dresser. A tiny clang rang out in the room, and Brody reached out for the edge of the dresser while the room seemed to spin. “W…what’s wrong?” he whispered.

Brody held on for a few minutes until the sudden sensation of vertigo began to diminish. He picked up the ring and slipped it into his pocket. Brody’s father left the family when Brody was a teenager. He later learned that the relationship between his parents was an abusive one. In his own life, Brody saw his father as absent both physically and emotionally. Many nights of the week he stormed out of the house and went downtown to a bar for a drink. Brody was already asleep by the time his father returned. They only saw each other in passing near the breakfast table.

Brody sat with his mother for a long conversation a week after his sixteenth birthday. His father was absent for two years by then, and they didn’t hear anything from him. At least that’s what Brody believed. At first, he enjoyed the quiet, but then he raged about his father’s absence. His mother responded with gentle reassurances that they would get along fine on their own.

Brody’s mother explained about abuse both verbal and physical. None of the injuries were ever life-threatening, only bumps, and bruises, but she knew that it was wrong. At the end of the conversation, Brody pleaded, “Please, Mom, don’t ever let him come back.”

She reached her hands out and took Brody’s right hand. While she stroked it gently, she said, “Don’t worry. I’m suing for divorce, and I’ll make sure he can never cause either of us trouble again.” She held up her hand with an empty ring finger to emphasize the point.

It was the last of conversations about Brody’s father for a long time. Mrs. Sexton didn’t mention him to anyone, and the neighbors and relatives didn’t ask questions. When he was 25, Brody received word from a distant relative that his father died in a traffic accident. There were no details, and neither Brody nor his mother made an effort to find out anything else. He was gone for good. Three weeks after they received the news, Dak pulled the story out of Brody, but he promised to keep it all secret. Dak said, “People can be evil in a small town when you trust the wrong ones with sensitive information.”

Brody shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. Then the doorbell rang. A rhythmic pounding on the door followed. It was Dak.

Brody stood to his full height, took three deep breaths, and brushed his hand down his button-up shirt and jeans before greeting his guest. Dak beamed when he opened the door. He fingered the collar of Brody’s shirt and said, “Look at you. All dressed up. You would think we were going out, but I won’t allow it. It’s pizza and movie night.”

With a gentle laugh, Brody reached his arms out for a hug. “I just thought you might appreciate me looking good for our evening together.”

Dak smirked. “You don’t even have to try very hard, bud. You always look good. Don’t let that make your head swell, but it’s the truth.” Brody swallowed hard when Dak rested the palm of his hand flat on Brody’s chest. “We’ve both had our fair share of bad news over the last few weeks. Let’s just throw it all away tonight and have some fun!”