Page 56 of Fighting

“It’s great to see you, son.”

twenty-two

Mateo

“Thanks, Coach.”

Liam’s dad was my high school basketball coach, and he’s also the mayor emeritus.

“Seriously,” I say, turning back to Liam. “Thank you for setting up today. And thanks, Gran”—I give her a nod—“for helping me.”

In the warm kitchen lighting, Coach looks relaxed. He’s gregarious and fatherly, like the man I’ve always known, dressed like he always is, in a polo emblazoned with the school logo and pleated-front khakis.

“You kidding?” James says. “This is a favor to me. Ma has been excited about this for days.” He leans in, his hands in his pockets. “But I have a bone to pick with you. Why is it that I have to hear about this development”—he nods at Nessa—“from the Springer?”

Nessa’s expression morphs from confusion to hesitant courteousness. I bask in the way she’s so easily brought into the circle, despite the ongoing banter at my expense.

Maybe that’s why I’m a bit too earnest when I say, “Let’s not scare her off yet, please?”

“Yeah, Dad. Come on. Let Mateo scare her off on his own,” Liam teases, his eyes dancing.

I blow into my fist and lift my middle finger, causing the room to fill with laughter.

Even Nessa is hiding her own smirk behind her hand.

“Okay, enough already. My turn,” Gran says and she envelopes me in a hug. She rests a tiny hand on my arm, eyes twinkling. “It’s good you’re home, Matty. We missed you.”

Turning toward Nessa, she puts on a lilting brogue and teases, “Is a real banger fest here, you agree, lass?”

Looping an arm through Nessa’s, she leads her to the table in the breakfast nook.

She lifts the cloche off a cake stand, then slices and plates two pieces of apple cake. “We’re going to have some tea and talk, then we’ll get to cooking. You boys want to collect more apples?”

Nessa brightens. “Oh! Is the plan to pick apples and bake?”

Yes! Add one point for Mateo.

“Actually, I wanted to have Gran teach you to make her famous apple cake so you can bring it to the family holiday,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“We can all go. No problem,” Liam says. “But give us a moment with Mateo first, Ness.”

“Go have your man chat, Mateo. But don’t take too long, or I might convince this pretty lass to jump ship for my Liam.” She smiles at her own wisecrack.

“Gran,” Liam groans.

As we cross the kitchen to the back door, I catch Nessa’s eye and give her a wink.

The stone patiohasn’t changed in the years I’ve been gone. The unlit firepit sits in the center, surrounded by weathered wooden Adirondack chairs.

Once we’re out of earshot of the women, I turn to Liam. “Does Gran not know?”

He shakes his head with a laugh, puffing out his chest. “Oh, she knows. Won’t stop her from trying to steal your girl and set her up with me. I am, after all, a strapping fireman, as well as her favorite grandson.”

“William,” James says in that sort of tone parents give in warning.

“It’s not my fault that I have more common sense than?—”

“Actually, sir,” I interrupt, eager to get to the reason I’m here. “I wanted to ask you about Jim and those Reynolds folks. He seems pretty taken by their false promises, so I need every advantage I can get to stage an upset.” My stomach twists with a mixture of anticipation and fear, but I power through. “Got any information that would help me?”

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