Stone never took off his coat, but I take a moment to grab my heavy parka hanging from the coatrack and slip on my gloves.
Once we’re outside, Odin goes back on my left and Stone walks on my right. The snow has lightened some, but it’s still coming down and completely covers the sidewalk. The sky is gray and overcast, but there’s little wind blowing.
As would be expected of a mountain dog, Odin is in his element. He’d lie outside in the snow for hours if I let him. He walks obediently at my side, head down and nose plowing through the powder. He pauses once to pee on a trash can, but for the most part, we keep a solid pace as we head west from my office.
“This is a nice area of Pittsburgh,” Stone says offhandedly.
“It’s called Allegheny West.” We stroll along, not many people out in the snow, but traffic is steady. “It used to be the premier neighborhood for the wealthy elite back in the late nineteenth century. It went into disrepair between the two World Wars, and then about fifty years ago, a huge restoration project started. I love the Victorian architecture here.”
Stone doesn’t reply, and we’re silent again until we hang a right three blocks down and then walk another half block to Brooks’s building.
“This is modern,” Stone says as he takes it in.
“It’s a converted warehouse, definitely not Victorian.” I give him a moment to check out the red-brick exterior with black trim on the windows and doors. “It’s a smaller warehouse that was converted into five luxury condo units—the first floor, double-car garages for each home and the second and third floors, the living spaces. Above each garage unit is a balcony that exits off the main living room for each condo, so if you’re friendly with your neighbors, it’s nice to sit outside and talk over an evening cocktail or morning coffee. You have outdoor space on the roof as well.
“There’re three units on this side and two larger ones on the other side.” I lead Stone to the bottom entrance lobby, which is nothing more than a locked foyer with wide-plank hardwood floors and the unit mailboxes. There’s a staircase that leads up one floor to the main hallway where the five units are accessed, as well as a refurbished freight elevator.
“The key to the condo opens the foyer door as well,” I explain.
I start toward the stairs, Odin at my side when Stone says, “You’re just going to take the dog into Brooks’s house?”
“Odin’s been in there many times before, and your brother never had a problem with it.”
“But maybe I do,” he grouses.
“Fine.” I shrug, because I don’t need to go inside with him. I toss the keys and nod up the stairs. “It’s unit four. Alarm code is 3985.”
Stone catches the keys easily and stares down at them. “Of course, he’d pick that number.”
“Pardon?”
He looks up at me, green-brown eyes turbulent. “It was our street address for our family home back in Ithaca—3985 Banks Street.”
I nod in understanding. “That’s right. I didn’t make the connection until now.”
“You know where we grew up?”
I smile, leaning against the wall, Odin at a patient sit beside me. “I went there after the funeral services.”
Stone’s eyes bug out of his head. “You were there?”
“Yes, and I went to your parents’ home after to offer my condolences.”
His voice is inordinately sharp. “I didn’t see you.”
“I don’t think you were noticing much that day. It was tough on everyone, but more so on you and your parents. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember me there.”
Our eyes lock, but I can’t read anything in his expression. His posture is stiff, and if I had to name an emotion emanating from him, it might be anger. But he gives away nothing as he moves past me and Odin up the staircase.
“Bring the keys back to my office when you’re done,” I call after him.
He doesn’t answer.
CHAPTER 8
Stone
This building is stunning, heavy on the industrial design. The brickwork continues inside, the staircase done in maple and black iron. At the top, the hallway’s been done in the same light maple with three doors on the left, which Harlow said were smaller units, and two on the right.
I walk down the hall. Unit four is the first on the right and sits an equal distance between two and three on the left.
Taking a breath, it hits me that I’m getting ready to see my brother for the first time in forever. He won’t physically be inside, but his spirit will be. There will be evidence as to the type of man he’d become while we were estranged these last few years.
If I take that step inside, it means I can no longer ignore our differences. I can’t continue to be angry with him for not doing more, for perpetuating the way the family dynamics had shifted to me becoming the outsider and to him taking all our parents’ attention and devotion.