Home Improvement: Undead Edition

“Is he on his way?” Joe asked.

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Austin said. “I imagine he’ll be here soon.”

“I’ll get his special drink ready,” Joe said. Joe kept DeFeo’s “special” drinks in a refrigerator in the back. His daughter really was a nurse at the hospital, and she managed to keep him supplied with just what he needed.

“Anyone singing tonight, Joe?” Austin asked.

“A great girl. She can really sing the blues. And you’ll love the guys playing with her. A jazz trio. It should be a fine night, filled with real local talent.”

As he finished speaking, DeFeo walked in. “Hey, Joe!” he called, taking a seat. Then he turned to Austin. His eyes were sparkling. “You need a reference for that new business of yours, I’m your man. My home has never looked better!” he said. He lifted his glass and clinked it to Austin’s.

“And there’s great music tonight,” Austin said, grinning. “Local talent.”

In a few minutes, the music started up. DeFeo stood to watch. Joe stood by the bar near Austin. “Yeah, a great night! I love New Orleans! What a great place to call home. Especially when the damned werewolf population has been taken care of again. The vampires, they’re just fine, once they settle in. But you just never know when a wolf will turn on you, huh, son?”

Austin nodded.

“Hey, I may need some home repair next week, got a leak in the old roof,” Joe said.

“I’m your man—unless, of course, DeFeo needs me for something at his place.”

They both looked at DeFeo, but he was just swaying with the music.

He loved jazz and the blues, and he loved New Orleans.

And he sure loved his home. And from now on out, Austin would take the best damned care he could of that home.

The Mansion of Imperatives JAMES GRADY

That three-story Gothic mansion rose like a hulking mirage from the desolate snowy prairie east of Montana’s blue misted Rocky Mountains.

Five people came there that winter Friday.

Louise hoped rehabbing the old house with their friends Bob and Ali would spark a paternal instinct in her husband, Steve.

Steve hoped fixing up the deserted relic would get his wife off his case and let him hang out, that’s all, just hang out with Ali, Bob’s willowy wife.

Ali was there because doing what Bob wanted kept her comfortable.

Bob told himself that it was okay to keep secret how he was going to work their group investment because he was the guy who always turned a profit—and had the bankroll, the blond wife, and the do-gooder plaques to prove it.

Parker stood in the front yard outside the mansion that cold gray morning as Bob said, “What do you mean you’ve never set foot in here?”

“Wouldn’t go in fifty years ago,” said Parker. “Won’t go in now. Stood here then watching Mom yell at my old man ’bout how he come to architect for Mister Rich—who had some heart attack, left this hulk and his fortune to my old man. Dad wouldn’t quit here for us. Saw him push Mom off that front porch. Watched her disappear day by day, die waiting for him to come to his senses. After the UPS guy found him froze like a statue here last month, if I didn’t need your money, I’d let this damn place rot to dust.”

“We won’t work in your pickup or our rental car,” said Bob. “If a storm is coming down from Canada, the longer you argue about that, the harder it will be for you to drive the thirty-seven miles back to town.”

“You folks really plan on staying here all night?”

“For four nights,” said Bob. “Power’s on—drafty, but the furnace works. Got a portable heater, fuel. Sleeping bags, food. Four nights now in December gives us ten percent of our ownership as occupants during our first calendar year—the minimum requirement for the homesteading tax credit.”

Bob didn’t say, And with the hardware store receipts plus date-stamped pictures of us working, we prove renovation, increasing our equity.

He told Parker, “Either you come in or we’re all out.”

Parker clumped up the porch steps as if he were climbing a gallows. Louise handed him coffee from a thermos they’d filled at a Starbucks 110 miles away in Great Falls. The four friends had flown into Great Falls the day before, from Denver. She followed Parker and Bob into the dining room with its legacy of scarred furniture that included a document-covered table.

Steve laughed while Ali strapped a tool belt around his waist.

Louise caught the glow in her husband’s eyes.

Bob gets off on seeing that fire in other men.

Louise shook her head: Why did I just think that?

Montana recognizes legal verification other than notarization. A digital movie camera recorded the four friends processing sales documents with the mansion’s heir. Parker wanted to sign, sign, sign and skedaddle, but Bob insisted on explaining each document to forestall future lawyers.

Fifty-four minutes later, Parker yelled, “Done!”

The front door swung open. They all hurried to its gaping view.

Outside snowflakes parachuted down like an invading army.

“But there’s no wind yet,” said Steve. “What opened the door?”

“Old houses,” said Bob. “They’re always settling.”

Parker said, “I’m so outta here!”

Louise grabbed his arm. “You can’t drive in a whiteout!”

Her husband, Steve, pushed the door closed.

Damn my logic, thought Louise. She didn’t know why.

And again the door swung open.

“Whoa,” said Ali. “That’s weird.”

As with a great whoosh, wind rose in the storm.

Bob closed the door. “Parker, if you die out there, the sale gets stalled in your probate. That blizzard will swallow you. What could be worse?”

“I don’t wanna know.” From his shirt pocket Parker fetched a steel lighter and a hand-rolled cigarette. The herbal smoke he exhaled revealed marijuana.

Bob said, “You’re getting stoned? Now? Celebrate at home!”

“Ain’t celebration.” Parker took another hit. “Medication.”

The door rattled.

“Didn’t think the wind was blowing that hard,” said Steve.

“Not thinking’s the way to be here,” said Parker. “My old man didn’t hole up here because he was a drunk. He drank because he holed up here. Staying outside or being stoned makes it harder for the thinking to get you.”

“Look,” said Bob. “Thoughts, voices, whatever you hear—”

Ali asked, “Why did you say that?”

“—doesn’t matter,” continued Bob. “We gotta fix this place up fast. Seal ourselves in or this storm will turn us into icicles. The leaky windows in the upstairs bedrooms: no time to replace them, but we can cover them up.”

Louise heard her husband, Steve, say, “Ali and I’ll do it!”

“Good,” said Bob. “Louise, help me Sheetrock that basement insulating wall Parker’s dad didn’t finish.”

Breaking glass!