Page 2 of Stolen Christmas
We finally reach my estate and drive up, and Sammy lets me out before heading to park in the garage. As soon as I step through the front door, I find an angry visitor waiting for me.
“Son, do you care to tell me why you were at the courthouse today?” She’s looking around me.
“Well, isn’t it wonderful to see you too, Mother?”
“Don’t start with me,” she huffs, pointing her finger at me.
“How did you find out about it? Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were coming here? The weather isn’t great, Mother.”
“Yes, well, then you would have stopped me, but I saw it on the news this morning. The reporters didn’t specify the charges. Do you know how worried I was?” Of course the pressdid that shit on purpose. It was probably at the hands of the local officials in Torcello’s pockets.
“Yes, of course, and I’m sure you were, but it was just a speeding ticket. Besides, there is this thing called a phone or even Dad, who knew what was going on.”
“A speeding ticket? Are you serious?” She slaps her hands onto her waist.
“Yes. Apparently, it was a thirty-five and I was doing forty-five, so the bastard got me for it.” I’m not even sure why the area is that speed limit, other than a reason to speed trap dumbasses like me because it goes from forty-five to thirty-five to thirty and then back up to fifty within blocks. It’s a dickhead move on the city’s part.
“Oh really.” She shakes her head, and I’m positive she’s going to scold me for speeding, but she doesn’t. “That’s bullshit. They’re just out to get you. You need to be careful, Luca. I will not lose you for something stupid.”
“I won’t do anything dumb, Mother.” Everything I do is well thought out and motivated.
“I want grandbabies.” I knew it was coming because it always is. There isn’t a conversation we have without her mentioning a family. It’s her go-to. We speak almost daily, and every single one of our talks includes starting my own little brood.
“Isn’t there something easier you want? Like for Christmas.”
“A Christmas present? A baby is the easiest thing you could get me. I’m surprised you don’t have a little army already.” I throw my upper body back to dodge that emotional blow.
“I make a valiant effort to avoid babies.” Does she think I’m out laying broads without protection? Hell, no.
“Yes, I suppose I don’t want babies from just any woman, but can’t you find a wife already?” A wife? I have way too much to do before I marry.
“Mother, when I find a woman worth marrying, I will.” I rub my temples and finally slide off my coat. It’s ridiculous that she hit me with a barrage of words before can I take off my coat. What do I need a wife for when my mom is here? She nags me enough about everything, from how well I am eating to staying out of trouble. If I had a wife, it would be no different except I’d have another worry on my hands with my enemies. It’s a headache I don’t care for.
“Stop it with that look. I know what you’re thinking. I only want the best for you.”
“And yourself,” I mutter.
“Trust me, when you get to a certain age and you’re lonely, you’ll understand and then you’ll want a wife and family,” she scolds me. She and my father are so happy that she wants me to have the same thing. If I were to find a woman like that, then maybe it would be a good thing, but that’s not likely.
“Mother, do you want to join me for dinner tonight?” I ask, wondering if she’s staying or going home.
“No. Your father is waiting for me at the house, and you know how he can get.”
“I can’t believe he let you come out in this weather.”
“He didn’t know I left until I was halfway here.”
“What the hell? He’s dropping the ball. The old man is getting slow.”
“No, I rather think he’s going to enjoy punishing me for this,” she says with a faraway look in her eyes. I try to hold back the revulsion. That is not an image I need in my head. The two ofthem act stately around others, but in front of me, the gloves are off and they forget to hold back their feelings.
“Well, I should have someone escort you home,” I insist. I wave Sammy over, who just came in from the garage entrance.
She’s about to protest when my phone alerts me that I have a visitor. I check the front gate and it’s my father, pulling into the drive. “Apparently, he couldn’t wait.”
She shakes her head. “See, you don’t know what I’m missing.” The smile on her face spreads so wide that I’m positive she’s right, but I won’t admit it.
“A damn headache,” I grumble.
