Durkin’s eyes narrowed as he studied both his boys; Lester making no effort to hide his smirk, Bert looking honestly concerned. “You two ask around,” he said. “You hear anything, you tell me.”

“Wow,” Bert murmured. “That really happened?”

“Don’t you two say nothin’ to no one about it. Just ask around. See if any of your friends know about it.” Durkin held up the three-hundred-year-old document he had brought up from the basement. “I never showed you boys this before, but this is the Caretaker contract. Most important document in this world.”

“Big deal,” Lester said under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’.”

“He said ‘big deal,’” Bert said.

“You bet it’s a big deal,” Durkin said. “You’re going to be Caretaker in less than four years.”

“No, I’m not,” Lester argued stubbornly. “I asked mom and she says I don’t have to.”

“Oh yes, you do, son. It’s stated so in the contract. When you turn twenty-one, you become Caretaker. That’s the way it’s going to be, Lester.”

“Mom says I don’t have to listen to you.”

“That’s ’cause your mom’s a damn fool. This contract’s the most important document in this world. You’re going to honor it. You got to. There’s no choice in the matter.”

Lester’s oval mouth contracted into a small dot as he stared blankly at the floor. Bert interjected that he could take the Caretaker job if Lester didn’t want it.

Durkin smiled sadly at him. “Don’t work that way, Bert. The contract clearly states the eldest son must be the Caretaker. So unless something were to happen to your brother, it just can’t be done.”

“Why don’t you just pretend something happened to me,” Lester said, his lips forming into a bitter smile.

Durkin brought his hand up to his face and squeezed his eyes. When he pulled his hand away, his eyes had reddened some. “Lester, what do you think I do all day?”