"Jee -zus, Brian!"

"What? It's business. I'll be home in a few days."

"But you were supposed to be home today," Justin protested.

"Something came up," Brian said.

Justin remembered what that line of Brian's used to mean. It was his standard reply for getting out of something he didn't want to do. And worst of all it usually meant that what had come up was Brian's dick, and it would be up a trick's ass in the blink of an eye.

"I bet," Justin replied with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Look, it's unavoidable. I intended to come home today, but Leo Brown wants to fine tune the campaign and he is going to take me to dinner with a colleague who may be in the market for a new ad agency."

"Sure," Justin said resigned to something always taking precedence over his time with Brian.

"I'll call you tomorrow and I should be home the following day."

"Sure," Justin repeated.

"Later," Brian said and clicked off. Justin didn't bother to reply and Brian didn't bother to wait for a reply.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Justin said to the empty loft.

Brian had been gone since Monday morning and now he wouldn't be home until the weekend. He was in Chicago on business, but it wasn't supposed to take this long.

Justin flopped down on the sofa and turned the TV on. He had been back from California for about a month. The first week he was back Brian had fucked him until he walked bowlegged and was afraid to sit down. His ass thought it would never recover. And then they had fallen back into the usual lack of communication that had plagued their relationship right from the beginning. Brian had been more and more busy building his empire in the advertising world. He had been highly successful at everything he had undertaken. But the more successful he had become the longer hours he worked and the less Justin saw of him.

Money was no longer a problem for either of them. Justin had some saved from his time working with Brett Keller, but he still hadn't decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Brian wanted him to go back to PIFA and finish his schooling. Justin didn't think he could go back to being a college student after being out in the working world. He wanted to work. He just didn't know what he was qualified to do. He was restless and unsettled, and Brian's long absences didn't help any.

Justin had gone through all the channels on the TV without finding anything he wanted to watch. What was that song "56 Channels and Nothing On"? He shut the TV off and got up to wander around the loft. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and carried it over to the computer desk. He debated going on line, but there was nothing there that really interested him at the moment. He wandered over to the bookshelves and scanned the spines of all the books there. He knew he had read most of the novels, but maybe there was a good one that he had missed. He squatted down to look at the lowest shelf when the back of a large green book caught his attention. It was definitely not a novel, but he never remembered noticing it before.

Carefully Justin extricated it from the other books leaning against it. It was heavy and he carried it to the sofa carefully. It looked pretty old. He sat down setting the book on the coffee table and looking at the title. It said "Art of Pennsylvania". Justin looked at the title more closely. That was what it said. He marveled at a whole book on art from this state. It wasn't exactly a hotbed of the artistic world.

Wondering where on earth Brian would have obtained this book Justin opened it to the blank pages inside the front cover. There was an inscription. It read: "When I found this book I knew you would want to learn about your ancestor. Enjoy, Claire."

"Claire?" Justin said aloud. That was Brian's sister but he couldn't imagine her being interested in an art book. In fact he couldn't envision her reading any book at all. With that in mind he started turning the pages.

His eyes grew large as he beheld the colorful plates of the magnificent paintings within the covers of the book. He shut the book with a snap to again look over the binding and covers of the book. A hint of the original bright green binding had now aged into a rich deep forest green. The inside flyleaf had a faded label of its original owner and each color plate, a protective tissue covering. The art book was in itself a work of art.

Noting the copyright date, Justin had a feeling the book was long out of print, making it all the more valuable and the more curious. How did such a book belong to Brian and why would his sister give it to him? Brian never showed any outward interest in art other than Justin's latest projects. And from what Justin recalled of their history, even when things were good between Brian and Claire, she just didn't seem the type to give a book as precious as this to Brian. Justin brought the book to the computer desk.

While waiting for the computer to boot up, Justin continued his exploration of the "Art of Pennsylvania." Keeping in mind the age of the book, Justin handled it with a more gentle hand, using Brian's silver letter opener to flip the pages. "Damn, I've been watching too much of the History Channel lately," Justin mused, remembering that book conservators handled ancient books with cotton gloves so that the oil on their fingers wouldn't damage the pages. "Shit, Brian's right, as always, I should go back to school."

Returning his attention to the computer, Justin let the book fall open as it rested on the desk. The pages automatically opened to the center. The center plate was a portrait of an elegant looking tall man with a poise that reminded Justin of another tall, and at times, elegant man. He read the caption out loud. "John Aidan Brian Kinney 1802-1879 One of Pennsylvania's most prolific and famous artists and landowners."

"Holy fuckin' shit!" Justin shouted to the computer and whatever stick of furniture that cared to listen. "This is amazing; Brian has a famous ancestor. Wow, wait till I show him this." Justin jumped up from the desk and began to do a little 'wait till I show you this,' dance around the loft. Halfway through a pirouette, Justin's sanity returned. Allowing Brian full access to this little tidbit of information at this stage might not be very wise. Gentle Ben, Brian was not. Justin could be risking more than Brian shooting down Justin's little mystery tour. Brian could quite literally piss on the book, if he felt its contents threatened his time space continuum in any way, shape or form. No, a little judicial planning was called for.

Justin sat back down at the desk, calmed his racing heart and picked up the letter opener. Carefully he studied the portrait of Kinney with his artistic eyes. The man looked to be in his late twenties possibly thirty. Justin smiled, how fitting to learn of a Kinney ancestor at about the same age as Brian when they first met. The hair was the same color, the fingers long and sensuous. The stature, regal, another Kinney that mere mortals shouldn't mess with. Justin scanned the pages hoping for further information on Kinney or the artist who painted him but little was there. Justin turned the page, revealing a family portrait of Kinney. In the gutter of the page a dried rose, flat like tissue, with the barest hint of color.

The portrait was typical of the period. Husband standing, in front of him and toward his right, his wife, seated, holding a baby in her arms, an older child standing to her left. Kinney stood stoic, his wife looked almost maudlin, her pretty features hidden behind a blank expression. Very typical, no emotion, except for the fifth person in the portrait, someone who ought not to be there. Standing next to Kinney but slightly apart from the family was a young man. He wore a serene smile and was looking up at Kinney with admiration in his eyes. A favorite art student perhaps, a nephew, a lover? "Focus, Justin, let's not jump to conclusions." Justin turned the page.

Nothing. Nothing further on artist Kinney. He was about to return to the center plate when a piece of paper slipped out between some pages toward the back of the book. "Oh great, I ripped it." With the letter opener, Justin carefully prodded the book open where the paper stuck out. Several yellowed papers slid onto the desk. As if touching a Rosetta Stone, Justin attempted to unfold the notes.

Carefully Justin lifted the first note and opened it. The paper was old but still strong. Justin read the cramped hand with difficulty. It said:

Dear Jack,

I know you thought you were doing the right thing when you   took your son and left. Your father and I were very upset with you. I know Brian has a smart mouth but you should not hit him. Life has not been easy for you, but we all have our trials. Please try to be forgiving and come visit us soon. Your father is not well.

Mother

Justin studied the paper and frowned. Here was proof of the way Jack Kinney had treated his son. Justin had always had an inkling of what it was like for Brian but the man would never talk about it. It must have been awful.

Justin gingerly opened the next note. It must have been written after Jack's father died. It read:

Dear Jack,

I was very disappointed that you didn't come home for your father's funeral. I would very much like to see you and your family. I don't know how much longer I'll be around. I hope you and my grandchildren are well. Please come and visit us.

Mother

It was strange that Jack Kinney wouldn't even have gone to his own father's funeral. The falling out must have been much worse than Justin had first thought. There was one more of these notes. He carefully opened it. It said:

Dear Jack,

I have been rather ill lately and the doctor doesn't seem to know what's wrong. I have a bad feeling about what is happening to me. In spite of everything that has happened between us, I want you to have a good life so I am sending you the deed to the farm. Maybe some time in the future you and Claire will be able to live here and find the happiness that you both deserve. I won't ask you to visit, as I know you won't.

Mother

Justin finished the letter and stared at it. It was very strange. There was no mention of Brian, just Claire. Why would his grandmother forget all about Brian and want Jack and Claire to live on the farm? None of the letters were dated so it was hard to tell how old they were. Would Brian have been grown up and successful when that last note was written? Is that why he wasn't mentioned? And what about Joan? There was no mention of her anywhere. Maybe Brian's grandmother didn't like Joan any more than Brian did. Justin had to admit that his brief encounter with her had made him extremely uncomfortable. He knew Brian seemed to detest having to have anything to do with her.

There was one more piece of paper. He opened it slowly noting that it was probably the oldest of the pieces of paper. It was the deed that Jack's mother had said she was sending. Why would she have sent it to Jack before she died? Why had Jack left it in this old book and never claimed the property? There were so many unanswered questions. If Brian had the book and Jack was dead, did that mean that the property now belonged to Brian?

Justin folded up the papers carefully and laid them on the desk. He was about to put them back in the book when he changed his mind. He wanted to find out some more about this. Maybe Brian had family or property that he knew nothing about. Justin decided that he would do some investigating. He took a file folder out of the desk. He thought for a moment before he labeled it "Sunshine". He opened the letters and unfolded the deed placing them flat inside the folder. He closed the folder and placed it in the drawer knowing that Brian would never open his files.

Once that was done he logged on to the internet. He would start by doing a search for John Aidan Brian Kinney. This could prove to be very interesting.