In four days Iggy and Silas had totally rewired the upstairs, worked their way down the stairs unrolling wires as they came, and started in on the lobby. “I decided to get every room but the kitchen done first.” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his hand. “Yes, Mrs. Rose, yes, I know, I consider the porches as rooms. In fact, Silas just completed wiring the lights and two outlets on the second floor gallery. I will set him to work on the front porch tomorrow morning when the sun is on the other side of the hotel. I do not relish frying my apprentice in the afternoon sun.” Silas came down stairs and heard the last remark. “I am very grateful for that, Uncle Iggy. My mother and Johnno would not like it if you abused their youngest (and most favorite) son in that way.” Iggy burst out laughing. “Most favorite son, eh?” He turned to me. “Mrs. Rose, did you know that Silas here is Johnno and Lobelia’s only son?” He walked toward the kitchen still chuckling, “favorite son,” and shaking his head. That night I had planned a surprise for my merry band of work men. I had hired Ezekiel, Old Reynaldo’s son, to set up his oil drum half grill in the back garden and bought fresh fish steaks from Billy the fisherman for him to grill for us for supper. I excused myself from the afternoon’s labors and went back to my studio for a package of rolls I got at the market, a fresh coconut cake from Amy’s Bakery in Blowing Point, and to make the biggest, healthiest tossed salad in the only vessel that I could find at the variety store large enough to hold it. It took a bit of talking to convince my crew that the kitty litter pan that their salad was in had never been used for its intended purpose. The cooler of beer that Johnno brought over helped.
Daily count: 1727 words
Total count: 28,329 words
I think we probably need some sex tomorrow. What do you think? In the story, I mean. Geez.
--Barbara
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