As for the time being, he was unemployed. He said that he had something lined up, but Mary knew, as much as she regretted the knowledge, that much of what her eldest son said was dubious.
Henry came thumping down the stairs, apparently unmindful of the sleeping old lady upstairs.
Mary opened her mouth to admonish her son to keep it down, but was promptly interrupted.
Henry asked this in a conversational tone, but anyone who knew Henry Kennedy well enough- and Mary was pretty sure she was the only person in the world who did- could pick up on the cold intent that lay just below the surface. Something was up.
"He stepped out for some fresh air," she said "probably to get away from you. Could you have been any less friendly to him?"
Henry squinted through his spectacles in an expression of feigned incomprehension.
"Why do I need to be friendly to him?"
"Because he's your brother, that's why!"
"Eddie's getting into the food."
Eddie had, in fact, slipped unnoticed into the kitchen. Mary could hear him muttering to himself in a stern voice, "Eddie, get your fingers out of there. Don't touch that."
Mary and Henry entered the kitchen and, sure enough, found Eddie finishing off a piece of saskatoon pie which he had surely skarfed down with inhuman speed. It was his turn to look guilty.
Through his purple stained lips he blurted "You made a mess!" before letting loose a hearty belch.
The tension just a momen ago momentarily forgotten, Mary and Henry- two people who would never understand eachother no matter how fundamentaly connected they may be- broke up in uncontrollable laughter.