Page 2 of A Valentine's Day Gift
“So you’re looking for it to be a rental?” Vinny asked.
“Actually, it’s going to be my art studio,” she confided.
“You’re an artist?” Vinny asked.
She suddenly wanted to own it, to declare her real passion in life despite the fact that no one had ever bought one of her creations. “Yes. I paint.”
“Very cool,” Vinny said.
Warmth stole through her. His casual comment meant so much to her. “I love it,” she confessed.
Vinny inclined his head. “That explains the oversized windows. You want lots of light.”
“Yes.” They reached the two-car detached garage and she unlocked it, opening one of the bays. It was packed full of stuff—lawn mower, shovels, rakes, the boys’ old crib, assorted boxes piled up. She belatedly realized she should’ve cleared it out, though some of the pieces were too heavy for her to manage on her own. Her boys—Gabe, Luke, and Jared—weren’t old enough to help much at eleven, seven, and five respectively. Her husband probably would’ve blown it off, saying he had to catch up on paperwork. Even when he was home, it wasn’t like he was really home.
She turned to the men. “I’m sorry. We should’ve cleared this out for you.”
“No problem,” Vinny said. “We’ll clear a path. Just show me where the access panel is.”
She squeezed in between rows of crap to the center of the space and pointed up.
Vinny smiled a little, the smile not reaching his sad brown eyes. “Thanks, Allison. We’ll take it from here.”
She nodded and got out of their way.
~ ~ ~
Vinny moved like he had lead in his limbs, but he had to work. He had mouths to feed. The small job converting a storage space to a studio apartment was ideal for his barely functioning state. He was sure that was why his dad, the owner of Marino and Sons Construction, had given it to him, knowing he couldn’t handle anything more complex while Vinny grieved his wife. Maria had died a little over a month ago after a long painful struggle with ovarian cancer. She was the love of his life, his high school sweetheart. They hadn’t married right away. She’d wanted to go to college, so he’d waited. She was book smart, in love with literature and poetry, beautiful inside and out. He was “hands-on smart,” as she always said. Sometimes he wondered why she didn’t just find some college guy more like her, but she loved him, and he loved her more than anything in the world. They married right after she graduated college. Vince Jr. was born four years later, Nico came along two years after that, and then two years later they had Angelo.
His boys, now nine, seven, and five, were in mourning just like him. He worried especially over five-year-old Angelo, nicknamed Angel because he had the most angelic demeanor and had looked after his ma in his little-boy way, making her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fetching her water, reading his favorite books to her. Vinny swallowed over the lump in his throat. Angel was only in half-day kindergarten, mornings, and today was the first day Vinny wouldn’t be there with him after school. His mother-in-law, Loretta, would be home with him, but still. Vinny had even thought about taking his lunch hour at home with them, but he wouldn’t have that much time with the commute, and Angel wouldn’t understand why he had to leave so soon.
He turned to his assistant, his young cousin Tony. “Leave the mower. We’ll stack the boxes against that wall.” He gestured where he wanted them, and they got to work.
By noon, he had a pretty good idea what he was dealing with upstairs. He’d need to get the plumber and electrician in here. He and Tony had already reinforced the floor, working around the access panel. After lunch, they’d build the wooden stairs for an outdoor entrance.
“Break for lunch,” he told Tony.
They sat in the cab of the truck, windows rolled down on this sunny May day, and ate the sandwiches they’d brought. Vinny filled his cousin in on the next steps for the afternoon’s work. When he’d finished lunch, he told Tony, “I’m going to see about using their phone.”
“But you said we shouldn’t go inside.”
Mostly they worked commercial construction, but occasionally to fill in a gap, his dad would take on smaller residential jobs. The rule was to disturb the homeowner as little as possible. “It’s for Angel.” He’d considered driving to a pay phone, but there weren’t pay phones on every corner in a suburb like this. It could take a while to find one, and he didn’t want to rush through his call with Angel.
He got out of the truck. Tony lit up a cigarette. Vinny leaned in the window. “Hey. Not in the truck. Go take a walk.”
Tony huffed out a breath, but he complied.
Vinny headed for the front door and knocked.
Allison answered, opening the door fully to him, not just a crack like some homeowners did. “Hi! How’s it going out there?”
He locked his knees, pushing down the urgent need to get to the phone and make sure his boy was okay. “Everything’s great. We reinforced the floor. The structure is sound otherwise. I’ll have electrician and plumber in early next week.”
“Okay, great.” She beamed a smile so bright it broke through his dark haze for a moment. How long had it been since he or anyone around him had smiled like that? Days? Months? Years? Five years of increasingly bad news, a slow build of despair.
“I need to use your phone,” he said urgently. “My son just got home from kindergarten, and I need to check in.”
“Oh. I’m actually heading out to pick up my son from the kindergarten bus stop. Can you wait twenty minutes for us to get back?”
