Jane ate her scrambled eggs, her head down and mouth shut. Even Prett's political commentary didn't rile her. 

I'm never drinking again. Oh, yeah? That's what you said last New Year's. You'd be married now if you hadn't drunk so much champagne. 

Jane rubbed her forehead. 

Don't remind me.

The men didn't comment on her silence. But when she and Prett entered the hotel ahead of his brothers, he followed her to the library. "I'll work in here today," he announced.

Great. Probably doesn't trust me not to drip paint all over his fireplace. 

Jane didn't take down the window panels. 

I'm lucky to still have this job. Better not push it. 

As they prepared their supplies, a shrill whistle rang from the lobby. Startled, Jane dropped the plastic cup into the paint bucket.

"Val discovered his lights were on display all night," Prett said.

Oh. I forgot about that. 

Jane eyed the open doorway at the far end of the room, but the plastic-wrapped bookshelves obscured any vision of the lobby. Val let out another whistle; louder and sharper. Jane looked at Prett, who stood with paintbrush in hand. 

"I think he's calling you," she said.

"Yes." He watched the doorway but made no move to leave.

Footsteps clomped as Val gave another whistle. "Is he mad?"

"Yes," Prett answered as Danny's cheerful whistle replied to Val.

"Why? Because people could see his decorations? What's wrong with that?"

Prett gazed at her. "That's something he wanted to decide."

A moment passed before the implication sank in. He thinks I did it!

Feet scuffled in the lobby, followed by a smack, a thud, and a surrendering warble. "Sounds like the start of a brawl," Prett said.

"What!?" Jane ran to the door. Danny sat on the lobby floor, rubbing his jaw. With a smirk, he signed to Val, who chuckled. He hauled Danny up by the lapels before clamping an arm around his shoulders. As the two turned towards the dining room, Jane ducked back into the library.

"They coming in here?" Prett asked.

"No, looks like they're going to the kitchen."

Prett's shoulders relaxed as he turned to the stepladder. "Then you got off easy."

Got off easy? Wait-is that why he's in here? In case Val hits me? Jane scowled. "I didn't get off anything." She fished her cup out of the bucket. "Danny took the panels down last night, not me." Not that he deserved to get hit for it, either.

"Vel did?" At Jane's nod, Prett shook his head. "That boy's got no sense left," he muttered as he repositioned the ladder. He slid his paint tray onto the ladder's shelf. Then he looked at Jane. "Did Val actually hit him?"

She nodded. "Danny was on the floor, so-"

"Were they arguing?"

"No, they were laughing, and-"

Prett sucked in his breath, running his hand through his hair.

"What?" Jane asked. Prett ignored her. He climbed the ladder and began painting.

Great. Another mood. And I still need to apologize for last night. Jane poured paint into her tray. But this doesn't look like a good time. They painted in silence, other than the industrious hammering and drilling emanating from the kitchen, where Val and Danny were installing cabinetry.

Jane found her opportunity a little later when they both needed refills. "I'm sorry I railed on you last night," she said as Prett dipped paint into his tray. "I appreciate the opportunity you've given me, hiring me on the spot with no references, giving me free room and board, and gifts, and even inviting me to holiday celebrations. You've welcomed me into your home without reservation and treated me like part of the family. I can never repay you for all your kindness. So I will stop interfering in your personal business and simply perform the tasks you've entrusted to me without complaint or modification."

By the time Jane finished, Prett's eyes were twinkling. "Nice speech. Been rehearsing that all morning?"

Jane relaxed her shoulders and smiled. "Yes."

Prett leaned forward as if to say more, his expression holding a hint of affection. Jane involuntarily stepped back, her lips parting in surprise. Prett's eyes widened. Flustered, he grabbed his tray and returned to the ladder, his back to her.

What was that? Is he attracted to me? Her face burned. She filled her own tray and climbed the second stepladder along the adjacent wall. Say something. No. We weren't talking before. Why should we now? Yeah, but it wasn't as awkward then.

"I shouldn't have had the wine," she began. "Alcohol always does weird things to me. I've ruined friendships over horrible things I've said while half-drunk. And it doesn't take much to get me drunk. I suppose it's because I don't have a large body mass. Anyway, I'm not making excuses. It's just an explanation why I went off on you last night. It won't happen again. I've vowed never to drink again." Prett had stopped painting to listen, though he still didn't face her.

He resumed painting at the end of her speech. But after edging six more inches along the bookcase, he stopped. Without turning, he asked, "Why have you been taking the panels down?"

Jane froze. "To let in more light."

"Why didn't you take them off this morning?"

She gripped the roller. "I didn't want you to get mad at me." Prett's shoulders dropped and his head bowed. He didn't move. Again, Jane couldn't stand the long silence that ensued. "I need this job. Genevieve really did say she'd hire me back if you fired me, but you seem to be the one who's in charge of thi-"

Prett set his brush in the tray and climbed down. He walked to the nearest window and pulled the panel off, then did the same with the remaining three. He returned to his ladder and resumed painting.

"Why did you do that?" Jane asked when she found her voice again.

"Because you like the light."

"Oh."

He let out a long breath. "And because we've gotten into a rut. The Vals and I. It's time to make some changes. They're ready to." He paused and added almost as if to himself, "I've been holding them back."

"You have?" But Prett didn't answer. Jane reloaded her roller. She understood why Danny had ended up living with Prett. He needed help recovering from his injuries. How long had that taken? Months? Years? Genevieve had indicated he was now as good as he would ever get. "Did Danny's head injury really change his personality?"

Prett shrugged. "He's always been hot-tempered. Impatient. Impulsive. A Romeo." He sighed. "Now he's more so. He's lost the ability to censor himself. Val and I have spent the past couple years tamping him down. Just enough to keep him from getting arrested. Or beat up by jealous boyfriends. It gets wearing."

"Did it affect his intelligence?"

"Yeah. He's a bigger smart-ass than ever."

"He said it's harder to concentrate."

"He's always been A.D.D."

"These paint fumes give him headaches."

"I know."

This admission surprised her. "Is that why you hired me? So he wouldn't have to paint?"

Prett hesitated. "Yeah."

"Or because I look like your old girlfriend?"

He shot her a wary glance. "I've never had a girlfriend."

Jane stared at him. No girlfriend? Seriously? At his age? Besides, everyone had agreed she'd looked like his ex. He must be lying. Unless... "A boyfriend?" she ventured.

Prett gave a short bark. "No, I've never had one of those, either. Living with my brothers is bad enough." He edged on more paint. "But I might consider it if he looked like you."

Jane flushed. Change the subject. Fast. "Danny thinks he doesn't need the disability payments, but I said you were right to make him take it."

"We agree on one thing, then."

"Why was he angry at you? Before he got hit with the IED, I mean. He said he was mad at you after, too, because he blamed you he lived, which is ironic since you turned off his life support, but he also said he was mad before that. How come?"

"That right there is an example of how he talks too much."

"He doesn't talk at all." She thought a moment. "Except...what did he say to Cadence that she won't forgive him?"

Prett shook his head. "This is the last time I leave Vel alone with you."

"Why? Because we had a conversation?"

"Some conversation. Now I see why he was so freaked out. He gets around a pretty girl and can't help but blab his whole life story."

"You think I'm pretty?" She flushed again. Idiot. He obviously does. So don't encourage him.

"You aren't hard to look at. What little there is of you, anyway. You need to eat more or the north winds will blow you clean away."

Is that supposed to be a compliment? "But somehow I've acted like some kind of lightning on your heart?" Her voice sounded more shrill than she intended.

Prett snorted, shaking his head. "Now you've been talking to Val. All you've done is remind me why I don't date."

"And why's that?"

"Because of conversations like this. Girls always want guys to spill their guts."

"What's wrong with talking?"

"Because it always leads to questions about where I've been, what I've done. My childhood, my parents. The name of my dog."

"The only reason you wouldn't want to talk is because you have something to hide."

"Or because I don't want to relive my life." Prett sounded irritated. "Most of it reads like the lyrics to a bad country song."

Because his parents died young. Or Danny's parents did. I'm still not clear about this whole brother-cousin thing. Jane opened her mouth to ask. No, don't go there. "You have a dog?"

"No."

"Did you?" No answer. "What was its name?"

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled.

"That's an odd name for a dog."

Prett snorted.

Jane was quiet a moment. "So what kind was it? German Shepard? Golden Retriever? Poodle?" He didn't answer. "Was it your best friend?" He kept silent. "Did it die, and you had a funeral in the backyard?" But Prett's mood had shifted into something dark. Try something else. "What about—"

"Jane," Prett said in a warning tone. He added softly, "Don't." He lay down his brush. "Just don't." He climbed down the ladder and walked out the door.

Aaaargh! Jane threw her roller onto the tray. She wanted to run after him and demand why talking about his dog—if in fact one had even existed—would shut him down. But I promised not to interfere in his personal life. I'm just here for a job. Paint, get paid, leave. She took a couple deep breaths and resumed her work.

Val joined her soon after. He acknowledged her, surveyed the room, and climbed up the ladder Prett had abandoned.

What the hell? Prett's not coming back? Now I need Val to babysit? And now he's ignoring me. "Did Prett send you in here!?"

Val smiled, shaking his head. He pulled out his phone.

          Not sent. Volunteered.

"To keep an eye on me?"

          To find out why you're so terrifying.

Jane scoffed. "I'm terrifying because I ask questions." She raised her chin. "And sometimes elicit answers."

          Nothing wrong with that.

"That's what I say! But apparently not if they're about Prett's dog. That's what sent him flying out of here."

Val nodded.

          That would do it.

"So he did have a dog?" Val nodded, and Jane asked, "What's the big deal that talking about it scares him off?"

          Maybe someday he'll tell you.

"You won't tell me?" Val shook his head. With frustration, Jane asked, "Why not?"

          Why do you want to know?

"I'm just trying to make conversation."

          Then talk about weather, politics, religion, not our past.

Jane snapped shut her phone and stuffed it in her jeans. So Prett sends in the heavy to tell me to shut up. Or he volunteers to tell me to shut up. Whatever. She grabbed the roller and slapped paint onto the wall. She'd liked Val the other night when he'd taken time to teach her the alphabet signs. But he's really just a brute. Her phone pinged. She ignored it. Her phone pinged again. She pursed her lips and ignored it. Her phone pinged, and she glared at Val. He smiled and gestured to her pocket.

          What do you want from us?
          Are you looking for something?
          Someone?

"I'm not looking for anything! I'm just painting these stupid walls so I can earn enough to get out of here and start my life. If you didn't want me to know anything about you or your brothers or your stupid dog, you shouldn't have hired me. Prett shouldn't have hired me. He shouldn't have had me practically live with you like I'm family. And then expect me to not wonder a damn thing about you!"

Val sent a new text.

          So you don't need alcohol to speak your mind.

Jane's jaw dropped. She stamped her foot on the ladder before snatching up the roller. She turned away from Val's smirk to slap paint on the wall. They finished the room without further discussion.

Danny sent a text announcing lunch was ready, and Jane ate a gourmet grilled cheese sandwich and the last of the stew, ignoring the signed arguments and accusations flying between the brothers. She didn't need to understand their hand signals to derive their meaning. Her own chilly demeanor added to the tension.

She ate her fill and rose from the table. The brothers immediately stood too, an endearing habit she now found patronizing. With a huff she yanked on her coat--refusing Danny's help--and stalked down the back stairs and across the lawn one step ahead of Prett. Yet she failed to reach the hotel door before he could open it for her. She swept inside, then whirled around to face him. "We finished the library. Do you want me to start another room or pack my bags?"

Prett's expression was guarded. "What did Val say to you?" Exasperated, Jane turned on her heels. She flung her coat on the back stairway before heading across the dining room. Prett followed. She entered the library, climbed a ladder and ripped off the plastic covering the shelves. "Did he insult you?" Prett asked with an edge to his voice.

"You going to beat him up to protect my honor?"

"If I need to."

"Really?" Jane stared down at him. "You'd beat him up?"

Prett twitched his head. "I might get in one good punch before he pummels me into the ground. Hard to say. It's been years since I tried to take him." He shrugged. "He isn't half my size anymore. Hasn't been for a long time."

Jane stared at him, her muscles tense. Then she dropped her shoulders. "He didn't insult me. He just told me to shut up." Prett raised his eyebrows. "Sorta," Jane amended. "He said to not ask about your past and just stick with talking about the weather and..." You know, maybe he was being facetious... "... religion and politics."

"Much safer topics around here."

"But why are you so secretive?" Prett started to turn away. "Fine." Jane tossed the strip of plastic to the floor. "So...if I'd taken the lobby panels down, would Val have hit me instead of Danny?"

"No."

"What would he have done?"

"Hit me."

"You! Why?"

"Because it was my idea." Jane expressed surprise and he shrugged. "Last night I suggested he wouldn't be so eager to leave off the panels if it meant everyone focused their attention on him. He said no one cares about a few decorations, just the remodeling. Vel tested the idea. I'm not so stupid as that."

"Because you knew Val would be mad?"

"Vel knew it too. Just couldn't stop himself. As usual."

"But Val didn't stay mad long."

"Yeah. He's either biding his time conceiving innumerable ways to twist the retaliatory knife in Vel's back, or he's using his formidable skills and Vel's naivete to put the screws to me instead. I suspect the latter. In fact, he probably ticked you off on purpose, knowing I'd...ah..." He looked down. "Yeah...anyway." He glanced around the room. "We'll move this stuff to the office and prep it next." He grabbed the sheet of plastic Jane had dropped and carried it to the room next door.

Jane helped him move the rest of the supplies. When Prett pulled the panel off the lone office window and uncovered the ubiquitous horde of bugs, Jane said, "Maybe you should fumigate this place."

"I have. Several times. I think they'd survive a nuclear blast."

"Like cockroaches, then." She pulled the shop vacuum to the window.

Prett gave her a sly glance. "Happy you've at least made friends with them."

"What?"

Prett pointed to one crawling up her arm. With a yelp, Jane brushed it off, shuddering. Prett turned away, but not before she saw him smirk. She considered making a smart comment. No, don't ruin his good mood.

The office was almost too small for them to both set up their ladders, but Prett didn't seem to mind the coziness. They covered the half wall of shelving with plastic, and once they set to painting, Jane ran through a list of topics. "I get why Danny lives with you. What about Val? Why does he live here?" No answer. "Is his stuttering that bad?" Nothing. "Your carpentry skills are incredible. I love your fireplaces. Genevieve says you learned it from your dad?" Nada. She changed course. "I don't know much about religion. We only went to church on Christmas and Easter. And trust me, we'd get into an argument if we discussed politics. I wanted to throw my breakfast at you the past couple mornings for dissing the president, so..." Jane peeped at him, but he continued brushing on primer as if he hadn't heard a word. "Sure has been cold. I hear it'll warm up this weekend, though. Get up to thirty degrees." Still nothing. Jane sighed. "Then I guess I'll just talk about me."

She paused a moment before hitting upon an opening. "I never had a dog. Or a cat. I had fish. Goldfish to start with, then guppies. I never got anything beyond that because I either fed them too much or not enough. My parents got tired of dishing out good money only to end up with fish funerals. Dad said he should start buying me trout because at least we could eat what I killed." She shot another glance at Prett. He appeared amused, and this encouraged her.

"They finally gave up with the fish. I couldn't have anything with fur because my mom was allergic. Probably a good thing, with my track record. I wanted a parakeet like Aunt Evie, but they refused to get me one. Instead, they bought me a fern, but it died within a couple weeks, so they got me a cactus and I killed it, too. Then Mom got me a silk geranium that I kept on my nightstand. At least it couldn't die. But I used to pretend it was real and water it sometimes. It turned all moldy and Mom made me throw it out. After that they stuck with clothes and toys." 

Jane blinked back tears. Don't cry, idiot. These are good memories. Yeah, but I get it now. I get why he doesn't talk about his past. I think I'll shut up now.

After a lull of several minutes, Prett said quietly, "Rex." 

Jane looked at him. He'd stopped painting, his face still turned away from her.

"Hound dog. A mutt, really. Kept me warm a lot of cold nights. Good at catching rabbits." He put his brush on the tray. "No backyard funeral. Don't know who buried him. Or where. I'd like to think it was Ole Rufus and under the white birches along the crick, but..." His shook his head as his voice became a whisper. "Probably not." He flinched before suddenly climbing down the ladder. "I think I'd better check on the Vals," he murmured, and left the room.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: The idea to have the Marvel brothers renovate an old hotel comes from personal experience. My parents bought an old Victorian house in the 1990s, and my dad and I spent the better part of a year sanding floors, stripping wallpaper, patching plaster, and painting. In Chapter Two, Prett tells Jane the hotel walls are stained yellow due to hundred-year-old wallpaper glue. I can attest to the truth of that. 😉

Here is my parents' house, decades before they owned it, circa the 1910s:

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