I step closer now, rest a hand on his shoulder. Even seated in his office chair, he’s almost as tall as me. ‘Alright. Show me the listing.’ Maybe it will be good for him, good for us. Maybe by giving him this, it will take some of the guilt from last night away. ‘I’m not saying yes yet, I just want to see it.’

‘If we try it just once or twice and you’re uncomfortable, we can take it down. No questions asked.’

‘Sure.’

He swivels back to look at the screen and brings up the browser. There are photos, a long description of the house with a set of rules, a check-in time, amenities.

‘Sleeps seven?’ I say.

‘Two queens, the bunks and the couch.’

‘The couch?’ I ask. ‘No one wants to sleep on that old thing. Change it to six. The bunkroom gets a cool draught from the ladder too.’ Grandpa had built the ladder so I could rush up and down between my room and the rumpus room but it always let the cool air in over winter.

His head tilts. ‘Okay.’

‘You did all this yourself today?’

‘I managed to figure it out. Used old photos,’ he says. ‘I’m thinking two-fifty a night, plus cleaning. It’s cheaper than most of the other places in the area.’

I recall one of the last times we were down there. Cain had taken me to a spot near the lake house where teenagers jump from a tree hanging over the water. Despite all those years with Grandpa and Grandma on the lake, I’d never known of it. The tree looked half rotted, treacherous. Cain leapt first into the blue–green depths of Lake Tarawera, then I’d climbed up the ladder, out onto the branch. Every time I looked down, my legs began to tremble, my gut became an icy soup. It was ten metres but it felt like hundreds. I knew the easy thing was to jump, to let myself spear through the humid air into the water. It would be easier than climbing back down but instead I just squeezed that branch beneath me, my body tense. This feels a little like that now. I know it’s safe, I know it would only take a small commitment from me – acquiescence, a loosening of my grip. Cain would handle it all, but like that moment before my fingers came away from the soft bark and I plummeted, I draw a breath.

‘Alright.’ I exhale. ‘Let’s do it. Push it live.’

He tilts his head back, looks up at me. ‘You sure?’

‘Go, before I change my mind.’

I watch as he activates the listing, opens up all the dates on the calendar to ‘Available’ and clicks ‘Save’.

‘Done,’ he says, taking his hands from the mouse and keyboard, gripping my own where they sit on his shoulders.

‘You did good with the listing, Cain. Might have found your calling.’