Brick Three
He was so accustomed (Jane said addicted but he said accustomed) to his phone he couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten through life without it.
But the truth was that he was different from his father, although it had taken a long time getting there.
His father valued tradition. Tradition helped the world to run smoothly, the clocks marking time, the ferries arriving on schedule, the church bells ringing the hours, the Coast Guard safeguarding the waters, the police force protecting the community, the firemen keeping disaster at bay.
But what about the children he had now?
Lydia had become a whip of a woman, attractive, confident, elegant.
She’d worked at a B&B during high school summers and for a large hotel during her college summers.
As a little girl, she’d loved pretending to work in the office, but when she was seven or eight, she started playing with a Lego hotel set and was always buying hotels when the family played Monopoly.
She was smart and self-sufficient and he liked the sound of her Finnish boyfriend.
Florie was growing from an adorable child into a beautiful and intelligent woman.
Brick Three heartily approved of her desire to work for a large firm in Boston.
As for the poet from Wisconsin, Brick Three was sure that was a passing phase.
Florie wanted to travel to France and Italy and England, not huddle in the middle of a cornfield.
Still, you never know what’s going to happen—anyone in insurance can tell you that.
Now, Lucas. Something was going on with Lucas.
Lucas had always known he’d eventually inherit the insurance company, but last night Lucas had been quieter than usual.
He hadn’t even asked Brick Three how business was going, if the new billionaires taking over the island were bringing Parsons Insurance their business.
In fact, last night Lucas had been friendly, but standoffish.
And then that woman had dragged Lucas off to a party.
Sheila someone. She was good-looking. Maybe Lucas was in love.
At any rate, the three kids had turned out so kind and thoughtful and brilliant, Brick Three wanted to have bronze statues made of each one of them to place in the town library’s garden.
But enough navel-gazing. It was the Friday of the Christmas Stroll weekend, and he had things to do!
He’d given his staff the day off so they could enjoy the Nantucket Christmas Stroll and have time for shopping and partying.
He was going with his son to pick up the cartons of champagne and other liquors that Jane had ordered.
Maybe he could just enjoy the next few days. It was the weekend of the Christmas Stroll and their annual house party. It was, if you looked at it the right way, Brick Three’s responsibility to enjoy the weekend.
He rose, showered, and shaved. Today he wore his normal clothes.
Tomorrow he’d don his red plaid flannel shirt, as far as he would go to be sartorially clothed for the weekend.
He’d wear the same shirt on Christmas Day and then it would go to Holdgate’s Island Laundry to be washed and folded away in a box until next year.
Brick Three’s grandfather had been a big man, and Brick Jr. was as big, but Brick Three won the trophy.
He was a handsome six feet tall with weight holding at two hundred twenty pounds.
A bit of a gut, but in his view, that made a man look prosperous.
Time to join his family. The smell of coffee was irresistible. Brick Three headed down to the kitchen.