It has been one long, sad week since my mother died.  Now, I was on the way to the reading of her will, and I’m going to be late, thanks to this stupid traffic jam. What is the hold up?
        As I inched my car west on Forest Blvd., I could see the problem: more debris had blown off the old deserted Miller barn.  It was now blocking the street.  Cars were swerving around it.  Someone should do something with that eyesore.  At least there was a “For Sale” sign planted firmly on the lawn now.  
  
I arrived at the lawyer’s office only five minutes late.  Now I had to face my brother Mark, my twin, my mirror image.  We hadn’t talked in years.  Ever since I can remember, we have not gotten along.
        Once, when we were seven years old, Mom sent us to the grocery store.  Mark gave the clerk a twenty-dollar bill.  The clerk tries to give us change for a ten-dollar bill.  If I had not been there, Mom would have lost ten dollars.
        I told her all about it.  “Mom, why does Mark have to be so dumb?  He never uses his brain.”
        Mom said, “Matthew, that’s not very nice. Can’t you find a way to get along?  You two are like oil and vinegar.”
  
By the time we were in middle school, Mom’s strength was fading.  Mark and I insisted that we do the grocery shopping for her.  But Mark wasn’t much help.
        “What are you doing?” I asked my brother. “Why are you getting the small size of detergent?”
        Mark replied, “I’m trying to save Mom money. The small size is cheaper.”
        “No, it is not.  If you buy the 100-ounce bottle for $15.99, that comes to $1.59 per ounce.  If you buy the 48-ounce bottle for $10.99, then it costs $2.29 an ounce.”
        Mark rolled his eyes and placed the smaller bottle back on the shelf.
        When we got home, I couldn’t wait to tell Mom.
        “Mom, Mark’s at it again.  He doesn’t know how to handle money.  How will he live when he becomes and adult?  People will take advantage of him all the time.”
        “Then you should look out for him, Matthew. Try to understand.  People are different.  You like to work with your head, and Mark likes to work with his hands.”
  
She was sure right about that.  Mark made some beautiful woodworking pieces.  He was a genius in carpentry.  He made a wonderful tree fort in our backyard that I got to use when he wasn’t around.
        I just didn’t like the way he slid through school.  I spent many hours studying and earning my good grades.  But Mark?  He never worked hard.  He always completed the bare minimum to get a “C.”  All he wanted to do was rush home to his carpentry and cars.  He had a knack for that, too.
  
I don’t think he liked me very much either.  One time, he kept laughing at me because I ruined dinner.  How was I supposed to know that Tupperware would melt in the oven?
        Mark said, “For a guy who is supposed to be so smart, you sure have no common sense.”
        “Mom, make him stop!” I said.  “I can’t help it that I’m not a great cook like him.”
        Mom told him to stop teasing me.  “You two are like oil and vinegar.  Perhaps it would be better if you put your two talents together instead of fighting.”
  
When we were in high school, things really heated up.  I don’t think he ever forgave me for measuring and cutting the wood wrong when we paneled our family room.  How was I supposed to know that a two-by-four was really 3-1/2 inches by 1-1/2 inches?  It took him several hours to cover up
  

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my mistake with molding.
        I also didn’t like it when he told everyone at  school how stupid I was for driving down South
Main Street in the family car with the oil light on.  I didn’t know that it meant something was wrong.  I thought it meant that the oil was low, like when the low-fuel light comes on.
        At dinner, Mom noticed that we were not speaking.  She said, “You two are like oil and vinegar. Someday, you are going to have to find a way to cooperate with each other.  After all, you are brothers.  And I hope I live to see it.”
    
My thoughts jumped back to the present when my brother entered the room. The two of us sat in silence as we waited for the reading of the will.  Our eyes never met.
        The stocky, balding lawyer named Mr. Morris began, “Your mother’s wishes are very clear.  She is leaving you $100,000.  You have six months to figure out a way to work together or the money will be donated to her favorite charity, the American Cancer Society.”
        After a few moments of contemplation, I swal-lowed my pride and shook my brother’s hand. We agreed to think hard about a business that could use both of our talents.
  
As I drove past the boarded up barn again, I thought about Mark.  He could fix the place up in a minute.  And then it hit me—why not buy it, and restore it?  I immediately pulled over and called Mark on my cell phone.
        “I’ll do it,” my brother said, “if we can open up a restaurant together.”
        I agreed.
  
We worked hard for the entire six months.  Mark did the carpentry, the plumbing and painting.  He was also going to be our head chef.  Me, I handled all the business aspects of the operation.  I hired the staff, bought the food, had the menus printed, paid the bills, and did the advertising.
        Finally, it was time for the grand opening. The last thing we had to do was unveil the sign bearing our restaurant’s name.
  
We smiled as we looked at the long line of people waiting to enter.  Mr. Morris, the attorney, was first in line.  Together, we removed the covering to reveal our restaurant’s name: Oil and Vinegar.
  
Our restaurant was a great success.  And we had Mom to thank.  She always said we could work together.  It was a shame that it took us so long to realize that.  We were sad that Mom didn’t live long enough to see it.
        Oil and Vinegar made a lot of money the first year.  And we made a large donation to the Ameri-can Cancer Society in her name.  Mom would have been proud of us.
    
    
                       About the Author
     
        Doretta Warnock has a B.A. degree in Communications from the University of Scranton and a M.A. in Special Education from Kean University, in Union, NJ.  She currently enjoys teaching grade 3 in private school, where her favorite activity is to use 5-7 spelling words in a story.  She began writing to give her students some ideas, and has been perfecting her writing skills by taking a children’s writing course through the Institute of Children’s Literature.
        Recently, she won third place in a non-fiction sports writing contest sponsored by Children’s Writer magazine.  While “Oil and Vinegar” is her first story to see print, she has another story forthcoming in Jack and Jill magazine, and is currently working on a science fiction story about life without oil and its products.