We really didn't think much about it until Bevan showed up at the store the next morning, slightly abashed.
"Primer." he said simply.
"It's important." I agreed. "If you don't have it, especially on older houses, that siding just sucks in the paint and unevenly at that."
He paid with cash again, chatted pleasantly, and left.
Marble came out of the back, wiping her hands on a rag, "Who was that?"
"Bevan. Came in yesterday to buy some paint. Paid in cash."
"Huh." she reacted noncommitally and fished her water jug out of the under-counter fridge. "Well, I'm off to drop the contractor paint."
I was cautious, but I still asked. "So how was living back at home."
"Kinda weird. I think we're still trying to figure out how this is supposed to work. They are tiptoeing around me, trying not to treat me like a kid. But they are nice enough." She shrugged. "So I guess we're figuring each other out again."
"Do they have any other kids?"
"No. There are a few nieces and nephews from Amelia's sister. They are close enough to visit easily for birthdays and such, but too far for a casual drop-in-and-chat."
"So it is just the three of you."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"So," I cleared my throat. "I think that Bevan is a friend of your family's. I think he was asked just to keep an eye on the store."
"That would be in character for the family. Buy a house. Rent it out. Let the tenant know that you would like them to check in at this or that store." Marble commented.
"Yeah, but what's weirder is this call I got last night." And I showed her the message I had written down on the pad next to the land line.
She picked it up and read, "Vishy. Call about business for an old family residence." She held the note and looked closer. "That is strange. Or could be perfectly normal."
"Yeah, this whole business has got me second-guessing even normal phone calls. Anyway, let me give them a call." I said as I picked up the phone to dial. After speaking for a few minutes, I hung up and caught Marble's attention, which was taken in front-facing the end caps in the store.
"That was Vishy. He wants to show me the family house that needs work. It's in an older part of town, down near the river. Can you hold down the store while I head out after lunch?"
"Sure."
------------------
I took off in the truck and arrived 15 minutes later in front of an older bungalow that say a few blocks from the city hall. Most of the other homes had been converted into professional offices, but here and there a few still had fences with brick pillar. The address I had been given was for a classic smaller design, pre-war, with heavy eaves, a simple roofline and porch that was actually big enough for two to sit comfortably and watch the street.
Looking at Vishy when he opened the door, he looked like the typical engineer transplant. If this was his parent's house, they must have been a part of the first wave of tech workers that moved in 25 years ago. I knocked on the door and an elderly South Asian man, dressed in button-down short and beige slacks opened the door. "Yes?" he said.
"Hello...are you Vishy?"
"Are you Chad?" he replied.
"I am."
"Please, come in. Your...young friend isn't with you?"
"She is manning the store, so I said I'd come see what you've got." I looked around at the facade of the house. "Looks like you've got a classic here. 1920's? Seems like you've kept it in good shape."
"Yes, my parents bought this house when they first came here. Not the first owner. Now my mother lives with my sister and it is just me. Do come in." he gestured welcome into the darker interior of the house.
It was small inside, but in keeping with the period, there was a separate parlor with an over stuffed couch off the entrace, leading to a small dining room filled with an older table and brightly upholstered chairs. Steep steps of redwood curled up from a furnace grating to what I presumed was a attic bedroom.
As I peered through the doors into two smaller bedrooms, a bathroom and the kitchen, each with the quirky details typical of the period: smaller rooms, pocket doors, built in ice box, and even some fancier bits like crown molding and chair rails.
"What are you thinking about Mr....?" he had never shared his family name.
"Nijhawan," he supplied.
"Mr. Nijhawan. Older houses can be tricky, and lead paint remediation is often needed first."
He grimaced. "We dealt with the lead the last time we remodeled. I am planning to move out and we want to get this ready for some...relatives. Cousins who need a place to live. We have never met, but they did express a desire for a more modern look. But, to be honest, I don't know what a modern paint job would even look like."
I chuckled. "Well, that's a real challenge." I paused and thought. "Most of these older homes feel small and dark. One simple first step is to paint the lower part of the wall in a darker color and the upper part a lighter color. You can stop in at the store and we can send you home with some sample swatches."
Vishy nodded and we spent the next quarter of an hour walking through the individual rooms and discussing options. Then he paused for a second and then started up another topic. "There's one other thing. I wanted to discuss with you...or rather the girl at your store...about her peculiar background. I am aware of the school she was attending before and what that means. We-my family-have an interested in that school, mainly because of something we share in common. You see, my family has an unusual gift. Every fifth generation, going back to the region in India where my family comes from, there is a child who is born different. Others describe those children as vinta. Maybe you would say 'touched' or strange or different. But my family has know that these children are born with an awareness--a touch of the strange in their manners and speech even from the youngest age. We have always considered this as a type of rebirth. In recent years, they are diagnosed with mental fugue or some other name, but we--my family-- have always known it was the resurgence of an older soul-in dreams, visions and voices."
I wasn't quite what to say at that point. He was patient and watched as my face showed my minds whirling with possibilities. "That's very interesting, Mr. Nijhawan." I finally told him. "But I was given to understand that this mingling of personalities was problematic because of the warring within a single person's soul."
"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Alfonso. My family does not have an answer. We have treated these vinta-these individuals--as confused but also as savants. Those that I am aware of cannot join normal society, and our journals show that they often choose a solitary life or at least a segregated, apart life. They are still our family, as strange as they are."
I spoke slowly, choosing my words carefully. "Are there any of that generation alive now?"
He shook his head. "There are more now, as the family has spread. But only a few of the fifth generation and none here The closest that I know of is in Wisconsin. He lives remotely- on an island in Lake Michigan. He is...he is my cousin's son."
"How does he live? Can we visit him?" I asked,
He held up his hand to stop me. "I will ask my cousin. He is family, but he can be wild and confusing and brilliant in ways that are profoundly troubling for my cousin. What would you ask of him?"
I ran my hand through my hair. "I would like for him to meet Marble, the young woman. She is rapidly approaching the time when she needs to make some decisions, and for this topic there isn't a lot of unbiased information. So much has been told her, but are they leaving her just one choice. Meeting someone outside would be reassuring as she makes that decision."
Vijay smiled and reached out his hand. "I understand. I will speak with my cousin and contact you one way or another."
I shook his hand and left to head back to the store, leaving a business card on the window sill.
