and Adam were twins by looking at them. Adam had a standing appointment with his hairstylist every Saturday morning to have his blond roots touched up and styled, and he went to the gym at least three days a week. Mack had jet-black hair that he seldom even thought about until it was time to go to the barbershop—maybe once a month. Adam had a movie-star face and body—the former from birth, the latter with help from his protein supplements and weight lifting. Mack hadn’t been quite as blessed in the good looks department, but he wasn’t ugly by any means, and his muscular chest and arms bore the proof of his hard work.
“What are you doing so far from the big city?” Mack asked. “I poured coffee for us. Have a seat.”
Adam removed his suit coat and hung it on the back of the chair before he sat down. “We’re foreclosing on the old Bailey property. I had to drive over and take a look at it. You should buy it. There’s forty acres and a house that’s not a hundred years old out there. Not a new brick, but a nice little two-bedroom frame house that’s pretty sturdy. You’re wasting your money renting this place.”
“I like the location and the house.” Mack carried both mugs to the table. “And the rent is less than I’d pay in property taxes and insurance on a place of my own.”
It was evident that Adam wasn’t happy with his response. Mack had always been able to read his brother, though they’d never been close. They’d grown even farther apart as the years passed. In high school Mack was interested in vo-ag classes; Adam played football. Then Mack went to Texas A&M and Adam left for Baylor, and the separation got even wider a couple of years after that when Adam stole Mack’s girlfriend. They had nothing in common anymore, except for their parents and the blood in their veins.
Adam sipped at his coffee, careful not to get it on his white shirt or his $100 tie. “There’s another reason I came by. Charlene and I are getting a divorce.”
“I’m not surprised. Who’d you screw around with this time?” Mack drummed his fingers on the table. “Have you told Mama and Daddy?”
There was the familiar old Adam shrug. Translated, it meant that Mack would most likely be the one breaking the news to their folks.
“Oh, no! Not this time.” Mack shook his head. “You can go by and tell them while you’re in town. I told them when you and Brenda divorced and when you and Natalie split up. I’m not doing it a third time. Man up and do your own talking. What happened anyway?”
Another shrug. “She caught me in a motel with my secretary, Darcy.”
“Good God, Adam!” Mack raked his fingers through his dark hair, which was peppered with gray. “Aren’t you ever going to settle down? You must like paying alimony.”
“Only on the first one.” Adam grinned. “After that, I insisted on prenups. And I really don’t like upsetting Mother. She takes things so much better from you than from me. So come on, be a decent brother and break the news to her for me.”
How two boys could be raised in the same household and turn out so differently was a total mystery to Mack. He loved kids and animals. That’s why he had become a teacher. Mack had raised show goats when he was in high school. Adam had been the quarterback. Mack had always been shy and withdrawn. After he’d had the mumps, Adam wasn’t able to have kids, and he always had a girl hanging on his arm—a girl he seemed to change more often than his socks.
“Well, brother, you’re on your own this time,” Mack said. “You can tell them or you can wait for the gossip to get to Comfort. Mama really loved Charlene, so good luck.”
“You’re really not going to help me out?” Adam asked. “Could you just maybe even hint that Charlene has been acting strange, and that maybe she’s been having some problems, like with drinking or depression? That way it wouldn’t be my fault.”
“Nope.” Mack refilled his coffee mug and sat down at the table. “I told you last time that I’m not paving the way so you can keep your glory-child crown anymore. We’re forty-one years old. You need to own up to the fact that you can’t keep your pants zipped when a pretty girl is anywhere close