Henry Jenkins Senior prided himself on his professional ethics. One of the many aspects of that being punctuality.
His work truck, with him behind the wheel and John Harper sitting in the passenger seat, arrived at their destination shortly before 7:30 that Friday morning in Moon Lake, although they weren't expected on the job site until 8.
"This is it," announced Henry, parking the truck to make sure he wasn't blocking the client's driveway or in violation of any other laws.
"Who lives here?" John wondered, staring at the one story brick house before them.
"The Johnstones. Our job is to paint all the trim, including the windows, as well as the front porch and back patio," explained Henry, as they got out and started to unload their equipment. "We'll set up in the rear. Then do the front porch first when everybody leaves for the day, which shouldn't be long now," he added, glancing at his wristwatch. "After that, we'll do the patio and then the sides. Then as soon as something is completely dried, we'll give it a second coat. When everything's been given that, we'll clean up and get ready to go home."
"How long will that take?" asked John, thinking about meeting Ginger O'Toole on the Jenkins' front porch when she came home from school, like he had been since the Harpers found themselves in Moon Lake.
"Our main concerns will be the porch and patio, but the best way to know for sure is to put a tiny dab of paint on a test piece of scrap wood after we've completed a side," replied Henry, holding up a piece of scrap lumber he picked up at Jenkins Construction when they stopped there on their way to the job site. "One dab for each section, per coat. That way, when we test the dab, we don't mess up our hard work on the house. We will have to stay until the second coat on the front porch is completely dry, so no one coming home for the day later this afternoon accidentally touches it prematurely. We can always leave a note about the patio if it isn't done by then."
"Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we finish," realized John, looking at the house again.
"Exactly," confirmed Henry. "Come on."
Like most were residences, there was no fencing around the rear of the house since, unlike the water based ones, the weres that didn't need a specialized environment to enjoy their true nature believed in open land and free roaming space.
But as Henry and John started to carry the first load of their stuff to the backyard, the front door opened and a man wearing a well tailored business suit came out.
"Good morning Mister Johnstone," Henry called out.
"Well, Henry Jenkins. Long time, no see. I thought you retired," Reginald Johnstone noted as he walked to his car, which was next to another in the double driveway.
"Not since Huck and I put that decking on to finish your back patio," recalled Henry, setting his load down.
John, figuring this conversation might take a bit, did the same.
"I have been taking it more easy than I used to," admitted Henry, "but a good man never completely retires. That's a sure way to age quickly and die sooner than you should. I'm just helping out until Jenkins Construction catches up with the job backlog."
"I see. How is Huck doing?" asked Reginald, recalling news of the shooting.
"Much better. Him and Betty Timid are planning to get married soon," announced the proud father.
"Really? Congratulations. Let me know when they do, and I'll make sure Frank and my schedules are clear so we're free to attend," offered Reginald.
"I'm afraid that might not be possible. They're just planning a civil service in front of a judge," explained Henry.
"Oh? Oh well. Least we can do is send them a wedding gift. Who's this?" asked Reginald, pointing to his companion.
"This is my helper, John Harper," said Henry, by way of introduction.
Reginald Johnstone instantly recognized the name from all the news and gossip surrounding the Jenkins family lately, but never mentioned it. Instead, he asked, "Is something wrong?"
"No sir," replied John politely.
"Well, it's just that, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you've been staring at me for a bit now," Reginald pointed out to him.
"I didn't mean to sir. It's just that I was a bit puzzled when you mentioned someone named Frank," explained John.
"Oh," said Reginald, remembering that John Harper was new to Moon Lake. "My husband Frank and I are were-wildcats. Do you know what that is?"
John thought about it for a moment and said, "Is that anything like Samantha and Frances Twist?"
"Were-wildcats are the male version of werecats," explained Reginald, seeing the dawn of understanding on John's face.
"Oh. If I can ask, how long have you two been married?"
"Over 20 wonderful years, so far," answered Reginald proudly.
"John, why don't you start carrying what you can to the backyard, and I'll explain to Reginald how we're going to tackle their project, but leave the paint for last. Those big cans will need both of us to haul safely," suggested Henry.
"Okay," said John, picking up his stuff and resuming his trip to the backyard.
John set everything down a few feet away from it and studied the patio. It was a wooden platform that extended for several feet from the rear door of the house. Big enough to do some entertaining as it widened outward to end with a couple of steps into the backyard proper and had built in lights on each corner.
After admiring the Jenkins handiwork for a bit, John went back around front for more of what he could carry.
John saw that Henry and Reginald were still talking to each other, so silently grabbed what Henry was carrying and turned to head back where he was.
What he didn't see was Frank Johnstone coming out of the house with a boy about his age.
"Who's that?" Tommy Johnstone, the adopted weretiger son of Frank and Reginald asked, watching John disappear around the corner.
"John Harper. My assistant for today," answered Henry.
"Harper? You mean—"
"Come on Tommy. Get in or you'll be late for school," prodded Frank.
As their adopted son (reluctantly) got into the car, Frank turned to his husband and said, "I've got a late meeting at the office, so dinner will be on you tonight I'm afraid."
"Okay dear. Take care," said Reginald, before watching Frank back his car out of the driveway to drop their son off at school.
Inside the car, Tommy turned to his dad and asked, "John Harper, as in the Harper-Jenkins wedding and—"
"Yes," confirmed his father, heading to Moon Lake High. "From what I hear, the kids are great. It was only their parents and that guy that wanted the oldest daughter for himself that we really had to worry about."
"He's kind of cute," Tommy said. A smile crossed his face as he turned his head in hopes of getting another look at Henry's assistant before they drove too far away.
Unfortunately, that didn't work out for Tommy, but it was what his father said next that got his attention.
"You may prefer men like your father and I do, and we don't have any problem with that because you're free to choose who you want to be and be with, but don't go prowling around where you might not be wanted. Besides the fact I hear the Harper kids had a rough time of it under their parents, everyone except the oldest daughter are still normals," his father cautioned him.
"Don't worry dad. I won't do anything to risk violating Statute 1A*," promised Tommy. But I wonder what John Harper might think about the two of us getting together sometime...
TO BE CONTINUED...
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*To those in Moon Lake, Statute 1A: changing a normal into a were against their will, is the second worse crime a were could commit, since that entails a loss of identity. The absolute worst is Statute 1: outright murder, the loss of life.—tmw.