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Van
*****
"It's about time you got here," Connie said with a smile as I opened the door, "grab a brush and get to work!"
"Jeez, give me a break, I've been driving for four hours," I said as I put my suitcase down and embraced my sister.
"So how long's it been," she asked, "since we've seen each other?"
"Probably last year at Uncle Jack's funeral."
"Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about that," she said as she put the paintbrush on the table, "anyway, it's really good to see you again. I know you weren't exactly overjoyed about having to come up here."
That was an understatement, I thought to myself. I remembered the phone call I'd gotten from Connie several weeks earlier.
"Tom," she said, "you know mom and dad's anniversary is coming up."
I knew immediately trouble was coming. I could always tell with Connie.
"And you know the lake they go to every summer?" she continued.
"Yeah."
"Well, you won't believe this, but Kim and I found this little cottage for sale there. It's right on the lake. And the best part is the price. It's been on the market for ages and the owner just wants to get rid of it."
"And how," I asked tentatively, "does this involve me?"
"Well, Kim and I thought the three of us could get together and, you know, sort of buy it for them as an anniversary present."
"Uh, O.K.," I said, "tell me more."
Connie gave me the details.
"Well, off the top of my head, it's sounds like something I might be able to afford," I told her, "but tell me, why's it so cheap?"
"Let's just say it needs a little work," was Connie's reply.
And that's how I'd gotten roped into spending a long four day weekend with my two sisters, in the woods in the middle of nowhere, fixing up a cabin for our parents anniversary.
*****
"Kim had something come up at work," Connie said, "so she won't be here until tomorrow. Come on, I'll give you a tour of the place."
There wasn't much to show and the tour took all of two minutes. One room with a couch and two beds. A kitchenette on the side and a bathroom. That was the extent of the tour. Luckily, despite it's remoteness, it had electricity and running water.
As we painted, I studied my sister, realizing it had been eight months since I'd last seen her. At twenty-nine, she was the middle one, two years younger than me. Kim was the baby of the family at twenty-seven. As a kid, I'd always thought Connie was pretty. With short black hair and blue, sparkling eyes, she always seemed to have a smile on her face.
Physically though, Connie was the misfit of the family. Her dad and I were both tall and slender, and where her mother and sister were thin, almost petite, Connie had a fuller figure. Her breasts were large and round, her hips full, and her waist, while not fat, was certainly not thin. Curvy would be a good way to describe it, I thought to myself. As long as I could remember, she'd always been on one diet or another, trying to control her weight. I remember she'd once looked in the mirror and jokingly asked our mother if she was adopted.
Now, as I watched her painting, she wore a pair of loose fitting shorts and a white blouse with the logo of some nightclub on the front.
"You still a wine drinker, Tom?" she asked.
"Of course."
"There's a case of it in the trunk of my car," she said, "it might make the work a little easier."
I lugged the case inside and as I opened a bottle, I watched as Connie bent down to dip her brush in the paint can. Her blouse was cut straight from shoulder to shoulder, and as she leaned over, the top of it fell away from her body, her large breasts hanging beneath her, allowing a view of the deep cleavage in between. I could feel a slight blush cross my face. I averted my eyes and poured a glass of wine for each of us.
"Have you heard from...him?" I asked, as I put her glass on the table beside her, "Any contact?"
She knew who I meant.
"Nah, just through the attorney. The divorce papers will be ready next week."
"You'll feel better, Connie, after the papers are signed. It's sort of like a closure. I know I felt better when Janet and I finalized ours."
"How long's it been now, Tom?"
"Since she left? About a year and a half."
"It seems like only yesterday when you guys got married."
"Hey, no melancholy thoughts today, O.K.?" I said.
"It's hard not to be a little melancholy. I mean, the weddings are always so nice. No one ever warns you about the divorce part."
"The first few months are the worst," I said, "but then it gets better, you'll see. Hey, this is all too gloomy. Let's shut up and get back to work."
*****
Despite the cabin's small size, every square inch of the interior was badly in need of paint, so the progress was slow. And it was hot, very hot. It was only eleven in the morning, and despite the fact we had the windows and door wide open, it felt like a steam room. I could feel the sweat dripping down my side. Putting down my brush, I peeled off my shirt and threw it on the table.
"Nice to be a guy, huh?" Connie said with a giggle.
"Hey, no one's stopping you from doing the same," I said with a chuckle.
"Yeah, right. Remind me, the first thing we have to buy to make this place livable is a big fan."
I looked at her. A large V-shaped area of sweat had formed across the front of her blouse. Little beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and the hair on the back of her head was matted down where it made contact with her neck. When she turned back to her painting, I saw a line of sweat had formed in a vertical strip down the back of her shorts.
"I give up," Connie said a few minutes later, "It's too hot. Maybe there's something I can work on outside."