Page 111 of Love It or List It
She made a note in her book and then asked something else.Joe kept answering her questions, mostly with the same answer as the first—for her to email him the details.
“Mom, not that I’m not happy to see you, but most of this stuff can wait,” he pointed out twenty minutes later.“I mean, we’re not planning to list for a few more months, and you know we want you to be the listing agent.You have time to share all this.”
“Right, yes.”She smiled.“Never hurts to get a jump on things.”
“True.But all of this could have been done over email.”Most of it was contact details.
His mother shifted in her seat and then shrugged.“I guess I was just in the mood to see you.”
“Right.”It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.“Well, whatever the reason, I’m happy to see you.Nothing like an overnight stay at the hospital and an oxygen-tank prescription to make you appreciate seizing the day,” he said jovially.
His mother’s face twisted unhappily.“Your father had to talk me out of storming the hospital,” she admitted.
Joe started.Hisfather?“You talked to Dad?”As far as Joe knew, his parents had hardly spoken for the past two decades.Theirs had been a love match to start, he thought, but they’d also been young and unready for the realities of a marriage, two busy careers, and a child.Their divorce was the first in either family, and despite their amicable split, the disappointment of the in-laws meant they didn’t spend time together.At least, Joe didn’t think so.
“Your young man called to tell me your fingers had turned blue and you were in the hospital.Of course I called your father.”
Put like that, it made sense.Still.
“You talk often, do you?”
His mother shrugged and busied herself tidying up her work things, tucking her pen and notebook into her portfolio.“Now and again.It’s hard to cut ties completely with the father of your child.”
“Right,” Joe said.It wasn’t like he thought theynevertalked.
Her phone pinged then, and she checked it.A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she read and typed back.
“All good?”
“Hm?Oh, yes.But I should probably be going.As much as I’d love to stay here all day, I’ve got places to be.”She stood, and Joe followed her to the door and watched her don her boots and coat.“Besides, if I leave now, I’ll have time to get a cappuccino on the way to my appointment.”She kissed his cheeks and, with a gloved finger wave, headed for her car, giving Joe no time to process what she’d said, let alone to question her very un-Italian choice of a lunchtime cappuccino.Only children drank that after breakfast.
And she’d refused a coffee just minutes before.
Well, if she’d decided to talk to his dad again and try to be a more active parent, maybe she’d also decided the rules about drinking only espresso after nine in the morning didn’t apply.Who knew?It wasn’t like Joe was going to tattle to Nonna.
He puttered around a bit for the afternoon—bought groceries, vacuumed the never-ending furballs from under the couch—until it was time to pick up Will from school and deliver him to his new part-time job at Tim Hortons.
“You’re not paying rent,” Joe warned when Will sprung this on him.
“Duh,” Will said, “I’m saving for college,” and Joe didn’t have an argument for that, so the discussion ended.
By three thirty he had dinner in the Instant Pot and Pepa hankering for a walk, and for the first time in weeks, Joe felt up to the job and the weather was warm enough that it didn’t make him cough.He buckled on her leg, clipped the leash to her collar, and off they went.
They were on the return trip when Joe heard the familiar cranky rumble of Austin’s piece-of-shit car, but it was coming from the wrong direction.He stepped farther into the ditch, thankful that enough snow had melted he could see where his feet were going and not risk tumbling in headfirst, and cocked his head as Austin pulled over to the side and rolled down the window.
“Hey, stranger,” Joe said, leaning down.“Going my way?”At his feet, Pepa whined and jumped, obviously having smelled her favorite human.She didn’t have to make it so obvious that Joe was the spare.
Austin held up a Tims cup.“Had to swing by and see if Will’s barista skills were up to snuff.”That explained why he hadn’t hit up one of the two Tim Hortons on the way from the garage to the house.“You want a ride?”
Joe looked down the road.He was maybe a hundred feet from their driveway.“I think I’ll chance walking it.”He was enjoying the exercise.Then he looked back at Austin.“New coveralls?”He usually preferred black or gray; these were ultramarine.
“Ah, yeah.”He gave a half shrug as he glanced at them.“Boxing Day special.”
“It’s a good color on you.”It really wasn’t—honestly it kind of made him look like he was turning blue—but Joe had never claimed to be an impartial observer.
“Yeah?”Austin flicked his gaze up and down Joe’s body like he was checking him out, which was a bit ridiculous since Joe was wearing a puffer jacket and a hat, but maybe Austin couldn’t be impartial either.“You sure I can’t offer you a ride?”
Well.Joe smirked.“Race you home?”
