The Glassy House
written by: Lenore Weiss
Della was talking to her baby brother in the middle of worrying about her daughter’s wedding. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you calling me about borrowing money?”
“Can’t a brother call to say hello? Heard you and Kevin were having a difficult time.”
“Who the hell told you that?”
“Your guys at Gardens Grow.” Della owned a landscaping business. “Heard you’ve missed two payrolls.”
After dropping out of college, her brother ran a grocery delivery service. For Christ’s sake! Why couldn’t he mind his own business? “Sorry, Bradley. I have a hair appointment. Talk another time.”
Della located her husband in the upstairs office. One wall was built of glass cinder blocks. He gazed at a spreadsheet on his computer.
“You won’t believe what my brother just told me.”
“Two payrolls?” Kevin moaned. “That’s crummy, Della. Really crummy.”
Now she wished she did have a hair appointment. Why had she bothered to tell Kevin anything?
“Tell me the truth, Della. Did you actually miss payroll?”
Della exuded calm, a quality she’d inherited from her mother, who’d died of stomach cancer. “Let’s have a drink.” Della poured two glasses of whiskey.
Without her answering, Kevin assumed the worst. He knew Della. “Not good news. I need to offset costs this quarter to your side of the ledger.”
She tiptoed toward him in a small, calm voice and sat down. “We’re not going bankrupt, are we, Kevin?”
“Bankrupt?” He rolled an ice cube in his mouth and nearly spit it out. “Did Bradley mention that? I told him not to mention anything. Crap!”
Kevin had taken over a glass installation business from his father, but over the years, he had grown the service. Originally, it had been about window-washing, going from one storefront to another. Her family referred to Kevin as the Glass Man, and sometimes, something less flattering.
“First, the banks, and now my employees complaining to my brother. I can’t believe this.” Their daughter was getting married in June, and they still hadn’t reserved a place. Della rested her drink on Kevin’s desk. “The boy’s parents agreed to pay for the photos, but not anything else. Can you believe that? They’re leaving us to pay the big bills.” In her upset, she accidentally hit her drink with her hand, toppling it to the floor.
“Shit!” Della’s phone rang. “Bradley, we need to talk.” She looked at Kevin, who lay comatose on his La-Z-Boy. “I hate how you’ve been gossiping with my delivery guys. Even Kevin says that’s the worst. Right, hon? Isn’t that right, Kevin?”
Della carried the phone into the garage where her truck was parked. “D’you think,” and the words caught in her throat as she began again. Maybe selling her truck would help, but she hated to do that— she’d decorated the side of the truck with flowers, had painted it herself. Everyone thought it was beautiful. “Can you lend me money before this Friday?”
“When I called before, you hung up on me,” her brother said. “I thought you were getting highlights.”
“In all honesty,” Della whispered, although she was standing outside the house, “I’m speaking as your older sister now; I should’ve never married Kevin. Please, Bradley.” But after a few seconds, Bradley hung up.
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