After considerable forced jollity with the bar habitues Jerry introduced him to, and after buying Jerry four beers, Paul judged him sufficiently relaxed, and led him to a corner table. “Jerry,” Paul said, making rings with his beer mug on a table shiny with varnish, “you mind me asking what you’re getting for that guest house?” Jerry blinked at Paul. “I don’t mind, Brother. Three hundred is what.” Jerry addressed any man he liked as Brother. Paul detested the habit. But he smiled and nodded. “I figured you wouldn’t ask what it’s worth, Jerry. You’ve got a good heart. That Hunter woman, she a good tenant?” “Keeps to herself.” “That only lasts so long. You know women.” He chuckled along with Jerry and then asked, “What about the kid? He bother you or Dorothy?” “Nah. I was worried at first to tell you the truth. Me and the wife don’t like being bothered, you know. But it was Dorothy that said to let them rent. They’ve been okay. He’s a good boy.
