"My job was going great," Jane said, climbing the ladder in the first floor bedroom. "I'd even gotten a promotion. Then the banking crisis hit and I got laid off. And no one was hiring. I ended up taking whatever I could get to pay the bills. But I thought I'd finally picked the right guy." She shot a glance at Prett, repositioning his ladder next to the window, sans one pink panel. "Brandon Sellaire. We were going to get married. Or so I thought. He wanted to finish his residency first. So I waited."

 Jane sighed. "And waited. We lived together three years. I expected him to propose last Christmas, but he gave me Louis Vuitton suitcases instead. Then I got drunk at his parents' New Year's Eve party and told off his mom and sister." She smirked. "I'm not sorry about that now. Pretentious witches. They never liked me anyway."

She filled her roller. "That's when he told me it was over. Wanted me to move out. So I did." She let out another long sigh. "He'd been having an affair anyway. Still, I pathetically hoped we'd get back together. I thought life with him was better than being alone. But he married her three weeks ago. That's when I decided to leave. It didn't matter where." She gestured her roller at Prett. "The rest you know."

"Stranded at Country Skillet."

"Yeah. I wonder where I'd be now if my transmission hadn't died and I hadn't lost my money. I wouldn't be here painting your walls, that's for sure." And I think I like painting these walls. "Say..." Jane stopped to look at Prett. "Cadence said you usually give people money or put them up in a hotel. Not this hotel. A real hotel. How come you didn't do that with me? Give me money and send me on my way?"

"You were asking for a job. I had one available."

"That's it?"

"And you looked pitiful."

"Thanks a lot!"

"And no one should be alone on Christmas."

"There is that."

"And I figured my brothers would bail on me. Delivering gifts by myself was too lonely a prospect."

"So you just wanted company?"

"For the night." He quickly added, "That came out wrong."

Jane chuckled. "Don't worry. You've been a gentleman." She stretched to roll primer on the ceiling. "In fact, I'm thinking you guys have the right idea. Don't date. If I'd done that, I wouldn't have wasted so much time on the wrong men. Though I'd still like to be married someday. And have kids. Except I think I've always liked the concept of having kids more than actually having them. I mean, I never babysat. Haven't been around kids much. You're good with them, though. Why's that?"

Prett shrugged. "You learn."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty-eight."

"And your brothers are thirty-four?"

"Yeah."

"And their birthdays are only three months apart?"

"Yeah."

"I can see you're dying of curiosity to know my age." She looked at his impassive expression. "I'm twenty-nine." She added in a mutter, "But not for long." She sighed again. "I always thought I'd be married by thirty. Obviously that's not going to happen. What about you guys? Ever want to get married?"

"I was once."

Jane dropped her roller onto the tray. "You were married?!"

"Yeah. So was Val."

"Val was married?!"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

Prett paused a moment. "Ended badly. For both of us."

Jane stared at him. "But...wait a minute. Yesterday you said you never had a girlfriend."

"Wife is different than a girlfriend."

"But she was your girlfriend before you married her."

"Nope."

"Well, you dated her, didn't you?"

"No."

"But how can you–oh, was it a shotgun wedding?"

"No."

"Arranged marriage?"

"Not exactly arranged, no."

"What, exactly, does that mean?"

"It was spur-of-the-moment."

"Spur-of-the-moment? Oh. Were you drunk?"

"Not at all."

"Was she?"

"Partly."

Jane laughed. "Did you know her at all? Before you married her? Or had you just met?"

"Knew her a little. Saw her around. Tried to talk to her. She barely gave me the time of day. Even after she married me."

"I'm sorry. How long did it last?"

"Five years."

"Five years! I'm surprised she didn't divorce you right away." Oh God, I've done it again. "I mean–not that there's anything wrong with you–it's just not a great way to get married. Spur-of-the-moment."

"I wouldn't recommend it."

Nice save. He doesn't feel insulted at all. Jane fanned her flushed cheeks. So...I wonder what his wife was like. A southern debutante? A buck-toothed hillbilly? "Wait a minute. Is she who I resemble?"

"Not in the least."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Though she had a temper like yours."

"I don't have a temper!"

Prett raised his eyebrows.

Jane scowled and ran her roller through the tray. Let's not revisit that. "So if she isn't the one I look like, then who?"

"A girl I once knew."

"What happened to her?"

"Long gone."

I'm not geting anywhere with this. "So Val was married, too?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"About eight months."

"Months? What happened?"

"She wasn't who he thought she was."

"Or he wasn't who she thought he was," Jane said.

"True, that. Anyway, I tried to warn him, but he wasn't listening to me at the time."

"Well," Jane said, stretching to the ceiling again, "part of me wonders why I would even want to bother, anyway. Most of my friends are divorced. Or on their second marriages. I suppose the days of 'till death do us part' is over. Living together is better. Easier to separate when things fall apart. Marriage is an artificial social construct anyway."

"What kind of psychobabble is that?"

"Well, obviously, marriage was created by the patriarchy to enslave women."

"That's ridiculous."

"Are you denying women have historically been treated as property?"

"Historically, men have also been treated as property."

"But not within marriage. Wives had no rights and were property to their husbands, never vice versa."

"That's not the case anymore. At least in this country. So instead of worrying about that, you should focus on finding a guy who treats you well. Someone who shares your views and life goals." He twitched his head. "If you want to be married."

"Good advice. Maybe you should have taken it yourself." You don't have to be so snarky. Yeah, but he started it.

"Absolutely. But I was too stubborn. Wouldn't listen to advice."

Jane modified her tone. "So do you think you'll get married again?"

"No."

"Why not?" Prett refused to answer. "Oh, because you hate talking about yourself," Jane said. "And you'd have to actually date a girl instead of getting her drunk and hoping it sticks."

"Something like that."

"Uh, huh. Sounds like you're soured on marriage."

"Marriage as a concept isn't a problem," Prett said. "Two damaged individuals battling each other is."

"So was that it? You fought a lot?" Prett's only answer was a shrug. "How were you damaged?" No response. "How was she damaged?" Surely he'll dish on his ex.

"Contrary to your liberal feminist notions, what is a now an artificial social construct is this modern-day marriage romanticism. Marriage originally formed strategic alliances, secured land rights, and provided legitimate heirs. Love wasn't a factor."

"You sound disappointed times have changed. You don't think people should marry for love?"

"Love is highly overrated," he replied. He ignored Jane's responding snort. "Anyway, my point is, marriage wasn't created as a grand scheme to enslave women."

"Yet that was the result."

"Then why cry over your shack-up doc marrying someone else? He did you a favor. You're still free."

Jane teetered on the ladder at that comment, grabbing the top to steady herself. He wasn't like this yesterday. Obviously talking about his ex brings out the worst in him.

He wasn't finished. "You need to work out your own conflicting views on marriage before you entrap some poor soul into it. Or you'll end up fighting him for control of every decision."

And that's why his marriage ended. He has to be in control! "So I should be a submissive wife?" she sneered. "Isn't that what the Bible says?"

"Absolutely."

"So find a husband who treats me well as long as I do everything he wants. Right."

"A submissive wife isn't a doormat."

"Isn't she?"

"She just cedes authority to her husband."

"See, I have a problem with that."

"Ceding to authority? You do it all the time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Case in point. This room. You're painting it the color Val wants. He's the authority here, and you're not questioning him on it. Maybe that's because you don't object to buttercream or honey beige or whatever the hell this color's called. But what if you'd rather have blue? Would you go buy a gallon and slap it on the walls? No. You'd discuss with him why blue is better. And he'd listen and decide. But if he still picked this beige color, you'd have to accept it, because he's in charge."

"A husband is different from a boss. A marriage should be a partnership."

"In partnerships, someone still has to have the final say, or nothing will get done when there's an impasse."

"Why does it always have to be the husband? Why not the wife?"

"Because that's how God designed us. Men are natural leaders." Jane sputtered at the notion, but Prett continued. "Just as women are natural nurturers."

"That's so sexist."

"Yet true."

"You need to come out of the dark ages."

"There are exceptions, of course. Some men are terrible leaders. And some women should never have children. But in general, marriages work better if the wife supports her husband as the head of the household."

"Yeah, I see why you got divorced." 

Prett turned away. 

Ha! That shut him up. "Your wife wanted some say in decisions and you couldn't stand that."

"You haven't listened to a thing I've said, have you?"

"I heard every word."

"And ran it through your female filter."

"What does that mean!"

"A man can say to a woman, 'I like that red dress on you,' and instead of taking the compliment for what it is, she thinks he's saying he hated the blue dress she wore last week. Or he asks, 'Are these dishes clean?' and she thinks he's telling her she's lazy or can't keep house, when he just wants a fork."

"That's crazy."

"But true. Any statement, no matter how innocuous, is taken as criticism. Female logic."

"So you're saying men are smarter than women?"

He shook his head. "You're proving my point. I said no such thing."

"But it's what you're implying!"

He sighed and turned away. "I learned early on it's a waste of time to argue sense with a woman when she has her female logic cap on. Every reply is taken as a new criticism. Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He refocused on his painting.

Jane gripped the roller handle to keep from flinging it at him. And then the paint tray. And dump that bucket of primer over his head. Though it's too heavy for me to lift, damn it! She stomped her foot before ramming the roller through the tray. Don't talk to him anymore. But he'd like that. He'd like it if I gave him the silent treatment. She glanced at him. Hell, he's giving me the silent treatment. Untenable. "Holly believed your submissive wife rule, and look where that got her." Ha! Answer that!

"I attempted several times to point out her faulty thinking there. But she insisted her obligation was to obey Lee, even though he was clearly outside God's commandments. She was stubborn. Too many emotions for me to penetrate with reason. Reverend George was no help, and neither was Lindy. They have their own archaic views of what submission means." He gave her a nod. "Similar to yours."

"My views are archaic?"

"Yes."

"My views are archaic? You're the one who thinks wives should always obey their husbands!"

"Again, you're hearing voices in your own head instead of mine."

"What does that mean?!" But Prett didn't answer. Jane scowled and attacked the ceiling with a vengeance. By the time she'd covered all she could reach, her anger had lessened. "So you agree with Holly leaving her husband?"

"Of course. She should've done it years ago."

"But doesn't that contradict what the Bible says?"

"It seems you've never read it."

Jane clamped her mouth shut. Smart-ass. Arrogant, egotistical...

He let out a long sigh. "She never should've married him. I tried to stop her. Practically got on my knees and begged her not to, but she felt obligated."

"Obligated!"

"Pregnant. And embarrassed. Minister's daughter and all. Plus she fancied herself in love."

"And love is overrated."

He shook his head, saying with abject sadness, "She was young and had no clue." He scraped his thumbnail at a dried speck of paint on the ladder.

What's this? "Are you in love with her?"

Prett looked at her with surprise. "No."

"Were you?"

"No. She's like a little sister."

"Oh. How long have you known her?"

"Since she was seven."

"That long?" Jane asked with surprise. Prett nodded and returned to painting. Jane climbed down, refilled her paint tray and repositioned the ladder. She climbed up, but instead of painting, she asked, "What did you say to her? When you were in the basement."

"Mostly I listened."

"I think you gave advice, too."

"'Divorce the bastard.' Or words to that effect."

"I hope she listens."

"Me too."

"So if she was pregnant, where's her kid? She leave him behind?"

"Miscarriage. A month after the wedding."

"Oh."

"Should've left him then. Not waited ten years."

"Ten years?" Jane echoed, and Prett gave a nod.

Ten years. Jane pressed her roller onto the ceiling. I don't get him. He says he doesn't believe in love, but...he cares about Holly. And one day he tells me I matter, the next he says my views are archaic. She shook her head. "You said something about her husband not following God's commandments. What did you mean?"

"Wives are commanded to submit to their husband's authority." He tilted his head, giving her a sharp gaze. "That doesn't mean tolerate abuse. Because the same verses command husbands to love their wives sacrificially. Lay down their lives. That precludes abuse."

"I've never heard that."

"It gets ignored in political rants about the subjugation of Christian women."

Irritated, she jabbed back. "How do you square that with your own marriage?"

He dabbed his brush in his tray. "I failed," he said quietly. "Completely and absolutely." He turned his back to her and resumed painting.

I hurt him for real this time. And he's not that bad a guy. A little old-fashioned. A little infuriating. A lot chauvinistic. But underneath it all, a decent guy.

After a few minutes of working quietly, Jane changed the topic. "Do you really think we're here for a purpose? That our lives have meaning?"

"Of course."

"What about Holly's baby? Why are some people born and others aren't?" She thought of the upcoming funeral. "Why do children die? What is the purpose and meaning in that?"

"Are these rhetorical questions, or do you really want answers?"

"Do you have any?"

"Not really."

"I thought your religion gave them to you."

"Life–and death–is a mystery. We're only given a few puzzle pieces. We never see the whole picture."

"Val told me you're a puzzle I need to figure out."

"Did he now?" Prett scratched his stubbled cheek.

"He said something about breaking you all out of your self-imposed prison."

"He leans towards the dramatic."

"But you said something similar. That you've gotten into a rut."

"Sometimes I mumble things I oughtn't."

Jane smirked. "He said I'm thawing you out."

"Didn't realize I was a popsicle."

"I think he means I'm getting you to talk."

"Me? Get him to talk, now that would be an accomplishment."

"Maybe I will."

"At this pace," he said, pointing to the ceiling, "you'll only be here a couple more weeks. Much too short a time to melt me into a puddle and turn my brother into chatty Charlie."

"Miracles can happen."

He shot her an amused glance. "Now who's the one with faith?"

"You might convert me yet." Jane smiled as she climbed down the ladder and moved it to a corner of the room. "Besides, Val told me to paint slower."

"Is he the one paying you now?"

Jane grinned. "So why doesn't he talk? Is his stuttering that bad?"

"No," Prett said with resignation. "He's just mad at me."

"I didn't believe that story before. I don't believe it now."

Prett shrugged.

"Okay..." Jane said. "What did you do that made him mad? Short-sheet his bed?"

"He's never told me."

"How long has he not been speaking?"

Prett thought a moment. "Ten years, give or take."

"He hasn't spoken in ten years?"

"Give or take."

"One day he just stopped?"

"More gradual-like. Quit hanging out with me because he's mad. Won't tell me what I did. Then he marries that psycho. She runs off, leaving him with nothing. He still wouldn't talk to me. Spoke to others only when he had to. Then Danny... After his injury, he couldn't speak at all, so he used ASL. He worked on getting his voice back while Val went more and more silent. Vel was making progress until he made his stupid comment to Cadence and vowed never to speak again, either." Prett sighed. "And that's where we are today."

"There's got to be more to it than that."

"No, that pretty much covers it. If they'd go back to speaking, I could have a break. Become mute myself for a while."

Jane gave a quiet laugh. "So they don't speak at all? Not even to you?"

"Sometimes to me."

"What do they say?" But Prett turned his head. He won't answer that. I wonder why. "And you still don't know what got Val mad at you in the first place?"

"No. Maybe he'll tell you now that he's enlisted you in his grand plan to melt me down."

"I'll ask him. What about Danny? Why was he mad at you?"

"Too complicated to explain."

Fine. "But he isn't mad anymore."

"No."

"What changed?"

"Came to his senses."

She shook her head at that non-answer. "So what did he say to Cadence?"

"Unrepeatable."

Jane sighed. I'll get Cadence to tell me. "So...is Val still mad at you? Is he trying to get even? Using me somehow?"

"I don't know what he's doing. I never do, till it's too late."

"What kind of things has he done to you?"

Prett considered it a moment. "He gave the fireplace mantel to Jill after I said she couldn't have it. Told her I'd changed my mind."

"Was that so horrible?"

"She showed it off to everyone."

"Ah. And you don't want anyone seeing your fantastic work?"

"Fantastic?" Prett said with a scoff. "A flawed piece I'd thrown out."

"You're a perfectionist."

"Am not." He jutted his chin towards the ceiling above her. "Missed a spot."

Jane looked up before realizing he was teasing. His smiling eyes when she faced him again confirmed it. He's trying to distract me.

"So why would he do that?" she asked. "Give the mantel to her?" Prett shook his head and turned away. "Maybe he didn't want you to keep your talent hidden. Genevieve says you could get more business if you'd advertise. Maybe it was his way of advertising. Even if it wasn't perfect. And after that he did some landscape work, right? So he was helping himself, too."

"He can do whatever he wants."

"And now he wants me to get you to open up."

"I don't need to open up," Prett muttered.

"You might be the only one in your family who talks, Prett, but you're still closed off. In fact, I think you're more closed off than your brothers."

"Just because I don't feel the need to bare my soul to every passer-by."

"I wonder if you've bared your soul to anyone. Ever." Prett kept his back to her. "You might start with your brothers. Tell them you love them."

He snorted, asking in a gruff tone, "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, maybe they'd like to hear it. Danny would. Cause you're right–he can't hide his emotions. I've seen the way he looks at you. With sheer admiration. With love. And Val loves you, too. He told me so." This made Prett lower his brush to look at her. "Last night," Jane said. "He said he knows everything about you. And then he said this." She repeated Val's signs: I love Prettyman. "And that it–"

But Prett had dropped his brush and walked out of the room before she'd finished.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: I used the website floorplanner.com to design the layout for the hotel and the brothers' apartment building. This helped me be consistent in describing the rooms and setting scenes. I also needed a good idea how long each room would take to paint. 😉

Here is the main floor of the Prairie Creek Hotel: 

Thus far Jane (and Prett) have painted the kitchen, library, office, and utility closet. In this chapter, she and Prett are painting the main floor bedroom.   

Be sure to vote and comment! ⤵