He may be the first born, but he likes to keep a safe distance from anything that resembles hard work.Usually, the only time I see him is when I finally head home after a late night in the office to find himpassed out on my sofa. It is how he knows better than anyone the hours I devote to the family business.I’ve tripped over him in the dark enough times that he knows my schedule.
He reaches beneath his wrinkled shirt and pulls something from the waistband of his jeans. He lookslike he could do with a shave and a shower, but I long ago gave up pestering him to take care ofhimself. That is our mother’s job.
He pulls out an envelope, crumpled and damp from where it was pressed against his hip. “Father leftme a message.”
My brows pulled together as I took the letter fr
