out last night, after sitting in this same chair. At the time, he’d thought the scene was of a mountain meadow with a sun, some trees, and a lone man carrying a spear, or maybe a woman with small tits. It had reminded him of those cave drawings in National Geographic. Obviously the carving had been a little more fleshed out—no stick figures—but the spear had definitely hearkened to more primitive times.
This morning, though, the scene was completely different. It showed a log cabin in a prairie-like setting with some kids sitting around the fire. There was no way he would’ve thought a log cabin in a prairie was like a cave painting—that just didn’t make sense. Why would cavemen envision a house when they lived in a cave? Either he’d had too much hooch last night, or he’d seen some other carving in the house and thought it was in this room.
The last was highly likely. They were everywhere, the carvings, in almost every downstairs room.
Except the same thing had happened in that front-facing sitting room last night, the one he’d sat in before moving to the TV room. He could have sworn the images had changed. It had started out as a grisly scene someone should’ve gotten fired over, and the next moment it was a high mountain tableau with a couple of blackbirds. Later…something else. He couldn’t remember what. It hadn’t been blackbirds, at any rate. He would’ve noticed. Blackbirds were a nuisance. He hated seeing them, even in wooden carvings.
Maybe he was just overtired. That car ride had been long, made longer by Martha getting them lost. She did not understand these new high-tech phones with the built-in navigation. Either she’d pick the wrong address in an entirely different city, or she’d forget to tell him when to turn (she hated using the voice option but constantly missed the cues).
Another glance reassured him the prairie scene was still there, so that was a good sign. He couldn’t afford to crack up. He was nearly positive Martha would check him into a home if he lost his faculties.
Think of the devil…
She walked into the room, wringing her hands with an anxious look on her face.
“He just will not let me help.” She huffed and sat down in the chair next to his, separated by a small end table, and looked absently at the TV. “He made us lunch, he got us drinks, he cleaned up—he is really going out of his way for us. The least I can do is clean up the kitchen for him. But no, he hustled me right out. It is bad enough he fought me to pay for the groceries. It really is too much. Entirely too much.”
“He’s the butler. That’s what he does.”
Martha clucked her tongue. “Butler.” She shook her head. “Who do we know that has a butler?”
“Jessie, apparently. He’s as old as the hills. He’ll probably drop dead before we leave the place.”
“Oh, Pete, that’s terrible.” She would’ve swatted him if she’d been closer.
He slid a glance at the carving, careful not to be noticed. Still a prairie. He issued a soft sigh.
“How can she afford a butler?” Martha said, straightening the already straightened coasters.
“I’ll bet he works for cheap. He’s probably worried that if he retires now he’ll die—”
“Pete, would you stop?”
“She didn’t want to kill him off by putting him out of a job.”
“I swear, you’re terrible. He’s not that much older than us. The gardener is…somewhat…up in his years, though.”
“He is much older than us, and that gardener looks like a walking corpse. They were probably a two-for-one deal. It’s a real motley crew Jessie has hanging around this place.”
“Yes, but how can she afford them and this big old house?”
“Cheap area—cheaper than we’re used to, at any rate—and you said it yourself: it’s old. She probably got it for a steal. That Peggy woman probably gave it away. It’s going to need all sorts of repairs.”
“She does have those nice gentleman for roommates at the moment. That’s something. She certainly has the space for them. Though what is this house’s love of capes, I’ll never know.” She clucked her tongue again. “A butler. No, that’s just absurd. Our Jessie isn’t the type to have a butler. Can you imagine?” She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Pete, what if they are dating? What if—”
“He’d die if anything got physical. I don’t think you need to worry about that.”