Page 10 of Golden Touch
“Same, bro.” We both snicker. “Good thing the hospital has it under control. Matteo is there with her. Mom is on the way back from Montreal to be here, too.”
“Matteo, huh?” Mitch asks. “I wondered if he was the daddy. But Leila wouldn’t say.”
“Doesn’t seem like a secret anymore. He told me he flew back here to be with Leila. Permanently.”
“Well, that’s something,” my brother says with a sigh. “Goodfor Leila. Always liked that guy. So what are you doing in Colebury? Thought you weren’t willing to run the brewery.”
“I’m not very willing. But Leila needs me for six weeks until Dad is back at the helm. I had to take a leave of absence from BrewCo.”
“Thoughts and prayers. Working for Dad is my worst nightmare, and I say that as the favorite son.”
I laugh, because at least he acknowledges it.
“So how’s it going?” he asks.
“It isn’t yet. Haven’t even seen the old man yet, and my tenure at the brewery is off to a rocky start.”
“Oh God. Why?”
When I tell him about my morning, my brother howls with laughter. “Please tell me there’s body-cam footage. I got a high school buddy in the sheriff’s office. I could ask him…”
“Fuck no. I will end you.”
He snickers. “So who is this Livia? I gotta meet her.”
“Well…” I hesitate. “Remember last November, when I told you I spent a whole night DJing tunes for this chick at Speakeasy? And then she bailed on me?”
“Oh, I heard all about it,” my brother says. “You drunk-dialed me that night from Leila’s sofa. You were so bummed.”
“Well, it’s her. That’s Livia.”
First a silence. Then more loud laughter.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Hell of a coincidence.”
“I gotta meet this chick. She sounds like a good time.”
“Feel free to fly your ass back here and take my place.” Leaving my job and my home in Boston for six weeks is a huge inconvenience. I still can’t believe I agreed to it.
“Why’d she call the cops?” he asks. “Serious question.”
“Fuck if I know.”
“She must be afraid of something,” my brother says. “You don’t get that jumpy by accident.”
I’m too annoyed to admit that he’s probably right. “Whoknows? The whole thing is awkward as hell. And I’m only here because Leila begged me.”
“I wish I could help,” Mitch says. “You’ll keep me updated on Leila? I’m gonna worry.”
“Yeah, same.”
Leila is the oldest of the three of us. She’s always been the competent, infallible one. I’m the forgotten middle child. Mitch is the baby of the family—the charmer. The one who gets away with everything. He also has an ironclad excuse for not pitching in to help the family business—his hockey team is about to tackle the playoffs. Depending on how well they do, we might not see him until June.
“Youaregoing to show up this summer, right? To meet your new niece or nephew?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says, even though it isn’t really a given. I’ll bet Mitch spends fewer than four days a year in Vermont. It’s been like that since he left for college. “How soon is Leila having this baby?”
“Not sure. Could be a couple more weeks. Could be tomorrow.”
