The Key

From the May issue of Deb’s Quill

THE KEY

Colin fingered the change in his jeans’ pocket. Twenty dollars left from Nana’s hundred-dollar birthday gift a month ago. It had been a fortune for her, but she’d handed it to him like it was spare change.

“Go on, now, Colin. You need to get out of that house.” She’d pulled him in for a hug, her tears leaving wet splotches on his shirt. “I wish you could stay with me.”

He wished it, too. But Nana lived in a senior-only building and there was no room for an eighteen-year-old boy. But going home to Mom and her surly boyfriend was out of the question. So, he’d hitched rides south with nothing but the clothes on his back and Nana’s money in his pocket.

The overhead bell tinkled when he entered Goodwill. He stood still for a moment, letting the warmth seep into his shivering body. The nights were cold enough to penetrate straight to his bones, and the cardboard box he lived in offered no protection.

But he’d scored a job at Jackson Square today, to start on Monday, Lifting and moving boxes. Pay in two weeks. It wasn’t much, but if he lived in his box for a while, he could save enough for a room somewhere.

He wandered over to the winter coat section against the far wall. Rifling through the coats in his size, he spotted the one he wanted. Quilted, with thick stuffing, and a hood. It was black, so he’d be invisible to the cops at night. And warm enough to get him through the next month or two without having to rent a place. Maybe if he saved up enough that way, he could get an apartment and bring Nana here to live with him.

But the jacket cost twenty-five dollars. With a sigh, he shoved it back on the rack and looked for the cheapest coat there. It was an old-guy coat; long, tweed, belted. His friends back home would laugh at him for wearing it, but it was only fourteen ninety-nine. He’d have enough money left over for soup at Mama Kettle’s — just — and then he could dumpster dive for the stale baked goods they threw out each night.

The guy at the cash register barely looked at him as he rang up the sale. Colin had to reach past him for the scissors to snip off the tag and received only a grunted acknowledgement when he plunked them back on the counter.
“Thanks,” Colin said, putting the coat on. Already, he felt warmer. Stuffing his hands in the pockets, he felt something cold and metallic. He hauled it out — a key, attached to a plastic id tag with a name and address on it. Art Melon, 112 North Sherman.

He stepped outside and looked both ways. Mama Kettle’s was only two blocks away to his left.

Or five blocks the other way, to return the key. Then seven blocks back to Mama Kettle’s. His stomach rumbled at the thought of hot soup and the extra crackers Darla snuck him when her boss wasn’t looking. His stomach pushed him toward soup but the image of his grandpa frantically looking for a key won out. His grandpa was dead for ten long years now, but he’d never locked anything up unless it was important.

He stuffed the key back in his pocket, pulled the coat tight and trudged toward Sherman Street. The loose sole of one sneaker flopped against the concrete sidewalk, letting cold air chill his toes, and he dreamed of finding an elastic in the dumpster tonight, or string, or anything that would keep his sneaker from falling apart. And bagels of course.

“It’s important. It’s important,” he muttered to himself, less sure of it with every step, but still not faltering.

The house was, like most of the homes on this stretch of Sherman, really old. Like a century, at least, he thought. His dad, before he’d died four years ago, had been a contractor. Colin thought that he’d follow his dad into construction one day, but that dream had died with his dad. Still, he’d picked up enough know-how to see that the windows were single-pane, and that meant cold and drafty in the winter. And there were loose bricks on the east side that someone should fix before moisture got a toehold.

He was procrastinating. Sucking in a deep breath, he climbed the cement stairs and rapped sharply on the door.

An old woman answered, eyes narrow, mouth tight. “Can’t you read the sign, young man?” She tapped her cane against the sign posted beside the door. No salesmen, it said. She pulled her cardigan sweater tight around her body, arms crossed.

He backed up, turned to go and stepped down two steps. But he still held the key in his hand. He turned back and held the key up for her to see. “I found this key.” He passed it across and watched her examine it.

She looked at him then, her eyes traveling over the length of the coat and back up to Colin’s face. “Oh, my. That’s Arthur’s coat.”

“I didn’t steal it or nothin,” he said, taking one more step down. “I bought it fair and square at the Goodwill.”

Her face softened. “No, of course you didn’t steal it, young man. I gave it to Goodwill last week. I never thought to see it again.” She studied the key. “I remember this. It’s to Arthur’s tool cabinet.” She sighed and brushed the wetness from her eyes. “That man couldn’t go within a hundred feet of a hardware store without buying tools.”

She studied Colin, who squirmed under her gaze. “You look half frozen to death. Come in and get warm. I’ll put a pot of tea on.” She held the door for him. “Or coffee if you prefer.”

He looked back at the way he’d come, toward hot soup and crackers and his not very warm box. But his face and feet were freezing, and it was a long walk back. It would be rude to refuse. He shuffled into the house behind her.

“Let me take that coat,” she said.

He gathered it close around him. “That’s okay. I can keep it on.”

“Don’t be silly.” She reached behind him and eased it off his shoulders, then hung it up. “I promise I’ll give it back to you once you’ve had your tea.”
He drew into himself and stepped as far away from her as he could. If she noticed his smell, she didn’t let on. Instead, she walked past him down the center hall a few steps and turned left. Into the kitchen, he saw, when he caught up to her.

“Sit,” she said, and smiled. “I don’t get company anymore these days. It will be nice to have someone to chat with while I have my tea.” She busied herself in the kitchen. “My name’s Sadie,” she said, looking back over her shoulder.
“Thanks,” he said, and sat. “I’m Colin.” His eyes darted, looking for something polite to say. “This is a nice old house. Good bones, my dad would say.”

Her laugh tinkled out. “Your dad doesn’t know much about old bones if he thinks there is anything good about them.”

“Thought,” he corrected, then looked away as heat rushed across his face. “It means that the house is solid, even though it needs a bit of work.”

“I know. I was just teasing you.” She brought two teacups, the pot and little sugar and creamer bowls on a tray, set it in the middle of the table. Then she brought over a cookie tin and opened the lid. The aroma of gooey chocolate chip cookies would have buckled his knees if he weren’t already sitting. He tucked his hands under his butt to keep from grabbing the tin and scarfing down the whole batch.

“None of that, now,” she scolded. “These cookies are meant to be eaten and lord knows, I can’t eat them all.” She took one cookie for herself and shoved the tin under his nose. “You have as many as you like. In fact, I’ll send the rest home with you. I’m not supposed to have any of them, but I just can’t stop baking. It’s one of the few pleasures left in life, at my age.”

He remembered his manners and took one cookie, bit off small chunks and chewed them carefully. His eyes rolled up as the rich chocolate dissolved on his tongue. His stomach begged him to eat faster, eat more but he wouldn’t allow himself to look as desperate as he felt.

Behind her, a cuckoo clock chirped five times while tiny birds spun in circles to polka music. “Dear me, it’s supper time,” Sadie said.

“Oh. Of course.” He watched her move the cookies out of reach and his eyes stayed on the tin even after she rose and bustled to the fridge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstay. I’ll get going and let you get on with your dinner.”

“Please stay,” she said, casting a welcoming smile over her shoulder. “I can’t get used to cooking for one. It’s — lonely. I do it, what with Arthur gone and all but you’d be doing me a tremendous favor if you’d join me.”

What do I do here?

He looked at his hands, torn. And remembered how pleased Nana was whenever he visited for dinner. “Okay. If you let me clean up after.”

“Wonderful,” she said. “I bought a chicken yesterday. Didn’t have the heart to cut into it for just me but tonight, it will be perfect.”

She bustled around the kitchen, pulling things from the fridge, pots and pans from the drawer, and plates from their cupboard. He took a step forward, to help, but his hands were so dirty.

She caught his eye. “Go wash up for dinner. Bathrooms down the hall. Clean guest towels in the basket.”

He looked away, a flush creeping up his neck. “I’ll get your towels all dirty.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “That’s what a washing machine is for.” She shooed him off with a wave of her hands. “Go clean up now. Dinner will be ready when you’re done.”

He washed more than his hands. He cleaned his face, arms and pits, then dunked his head under the faucet until all the water ran clean. It was a fraction of what needed scrubbing, but it would have to do.

His hand stilled on the doorknob. Sadie was being so nice, but all he’d done was return a key. His father’s voice echoed through his mind. “Never take advantage of someone, son. That’s not in the ten commandments, but it should be.”

He should leave. She’d given him cookies and that was payment enough. But the aroma wafting down from the kitchen cramped his stomach and filled his mouth with saliva. He swallowed, scraped his wet hair back from his face, ignored the drips down his back, and opened the door.

He headed for the front door, but his feet had a mind of their own and took him to the kitchen.

“There you are,” Sadie said, looking up. She placed the chicken platter on the table and straightened. “You cleaned up real nice, Colin. Come sit down.”

When he didn’t move, she reached over and took his hand and tugged him toward a chair. “Don’t go getting shy on me now. I’ve been dying for company over dinner, and you just showed up on my doorstep like a gift from heaven. Guess I won’t win any cooking awards, but I think you’ll find this meal tasty enough.”

“It smells delicious, ma’am,” he said. He scooped a small portion onto his plate and took a bite. The juices flowed over his tongue. He chewed more than he needed to, for the pleasure of holding the flavor there. He swallowed. “This is awesome, ma’am. The best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well, then,” she smiled, “you must help me eat it all. Heaven knows I’ll never be able to finish all this.” She piled more food on his plate until there was no room left. “So, tell me about you, Colin. You look like a young man in need of some help. No family here?”

His back stiffened as color flooded his cheeks. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Nonsense. No shame in admitting to needing help. Lord knows, I’ve needed it myself a time or two.” She poured them each more tea. “Why, when Arthur and I first arrived in town, we were so broke, we both near starved for the first week, until we both found jobs. I worked in a pizza joint. The owner could see I was hurting and sent a pizza home with me every night. That’s all we had to eat for a few weeks until we got paid. Still can’t smell a pizza without getting queasy.”

“I’m fine. Really. I start a job on Monday. And I have a place to stay.” His cardboard box was a place. No lie there. He shovelled more food in his mouth.

“Okay, then.”

They ate in silence for the rest of the meal. He cleaned every last scrap from his plate, his stomach pushing against his jeans. He reached to unbutton them but stilled his hand. That would be rude. And might scare her. A strange man in her kitchen unbuttoning his pants. So he sat with the discomfort.

He stood and started gathering the dishes, carrying them to the sink.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said, helping to clear the table. “I’ve got nothing but time on my hands.”

“No,” he said, looking at her but not meeting her eyes. “I want to. Besides, that was the deal.”

“It was, wasn’t it.” She pulled dish soap, a cloth and drying rack from under the sink and set them up. “Here you go. I’ll just get out of your hair.” She patted his shoulder and then turned away.

He heard drawers opening, and dishes clinking, wondered what she was doing but kept his eyes on his task. When he was done, he wiped the counter and table, folded the washcloth the way Nana had taught him, and put everything away.

“Thank you for dinner, ma’am,” he said, shuffling toward the door. “It’s late. I best be going.”

He met her eyes, saw pity there, and looked away.

She handed him his coat. “Returned to you, as promised.” She helped him into it, then hovered as he buttoned up. She brushed his arm. “Arthur would be so happy you found his coat,” she said, her eyes moist. She slipped something into each pocket.

He started to pull them out, felt something soft, squishy.

“Never you mind, Colin. I made two sandwiches from the rest of the chicken. You take them, now, and no back talk. I insist. Paying it forward, that’s all it is. You can do the same, some day.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He nodded, opened the door and stepped out.

The cold hit his face first, stinging his nose and eyes. He pulled the collar up, hunched into the wind, and headed out, his loose sole slapping against the sidewalk. He’d sleep well tonight, despite the cold. His full belly would see to that.

Two weeks later, Colin pocketed the cash from his first paycheque. The bank had been surly since he didn’t have an account, so he opened one and deposited half of it, $600. Having the rest in his pocket made him edgy but he had things to buy.

Twelve hundred dollars, net. He’d almost fainted. He’d never had anywhere near this much money.

He found a Money Mart and wired Nana $200. She’d protest but he wanted her to have it. He’d send more each paycheque. Let her buy doodads and such, for a bit of joy in her life. Until he could afford to bring her here to live with him.

He bought new clothes at Goodwill and dumped his old ones in the trashcan outside. He wiggled his toes inside his new shoes, walked back and forth, testing. Comfortable. No loose sole to slap the pavement with each step.

He’d thought about trading up to the warmer bubble coat, but he liked this one. It was lucky. And who couldn’t use luck?

Instead, he bought a sleeping bag, and rented a locker at the bus station to keep it in. He’d keep warm in his box a few more weeks. Maybe a month if he was lucky. Decembers in Hamilton were finicky, sometimes freezing, sometimes unseasonably warm.

Then there were shelters. His boss had handed him a flyer with his paycheque, so he knew where to find them. But he was fine for now. Every penny saved, his father used to say, is a penny earned and he needed a lot of them.

He stopped at a hardware store. Sadie’s loose brick bothered him. The damage to the rest of the façade could be extensive if it wasn’t fixed before freezing weather hit. She’d been so kind and all she’d asked was that he pay it forward. That’s exactly what he intended to do. He gathered his supplies and a bucket to carry it all.

He didn’t knock on her door when he arrived. Just got down to work, removing the brick, and chiseling out the old mortar. He turned her hose on for the water to mix the mortar. He’d leave her a note to turn off the inside tap. Otherwise, her pipes would freeze when the cold snap hit.

His father’s ghost perched on his shoulder, reminding him how to mix the mortar properly. Satisfied with the consistency, he trowelled some around the brick and shoved it into place, wiggled it until it felt secure, and scraped off the excess.

The door opened and Sadie stepped out. “You gave me a fright, Colin,” she said, hands on hips. “What on earth are you doing?”

He stood and tried to hide the flush creeping up his neck by pulling the coat collar tight. “Your brick needed fixing, ma’am. Moisture gets behind it and when the temperature drops — well, your whole side could be ruined.”
“Huh.” She leaned over the railing and looked at his work. “That’s a tidy job, Colin. Who taught you how to do that?

He shoved his hands in his pocket and shrugged. “My Dad. He was a contractor. Construction, you know. I used to help him in the summers. He was teaching me. We were ….” His throat tightened and tears welled but he fought both back.

“Your Dad sounds like he was a fine man.” She moved down the steps to stand beside him. “I can’t afford to pay you in money. Wish I could. But how about I pay you with dinner?”

He stepped away, the blood rushing over his face making him itch. “No need, ma’am. Just paying your kindness forward. Like you said.”

Her laugh erupted. “Touche. Tossing my words back at me is just what my Tony does.”

He looked down, busied himself with gathering his tools. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Don’t you dare apologise. I loved it. Now, I have an idea, if you are interested.”

She waited until he looked up. “I need a lot of things fixed around this place. Nothing’s been tended to since Arthur died. Long before that, what with his illness and all. And Lord knows my Tony has no idea how to do any of it, even if he had the time. Will you accept a trade?”

“A trade, ma’am?”

“That’s what I said. You fix things around the house for me. I fix you dinner. Lunch and dinner if the repairs take the day. What do you say?”

He looked away, let his thoughts spin. Then he looked in her eyes and nodded, a smile hovering on his lips. “I can do a trade.”

“Wonderful. Come on in now, It’s almost lunch time. While I fix us a meal, you wander through the house, see what needs fixing. We can talk about it while we eat.”

She moved up the steps and held the door open for him. “And no more ma’am. I’m Sadie. You’re Colin. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He grinned for the first time in months. “Yes, ma’am. Sadie. I guess we are.”

Later, on the way out the door, she handed him the key. “Take a look at the tool cabinet before you go. It’s in the garage. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need for the repairs.”

He came over on weekends, after that. Adjusted the hang of doors, regrouted her bathtub, fixed a few more bricks. They chatted over lunches and dinners. He learned Tony was a Financial Analyst in Toronto, single, too busy to visit her or find a girl.

He told her about Nana and his Dad. He steered away from his mother, despite Sadie’s blatant attempts to pry the truth out of him. That was private. He might despise his mother’s new boyfriend, but he’d never betray her. She was just lonely and trying to cope with her grief. Like him.

Six weeks after first meeting Sadie, Colin was painting the spare bedroom. Moonlit Meadow, the can said. Sadie loved the color, but it just looked like pale grey to him. He stood back and checked his work. Satisfied, he cleaned his brushes and put everything away, carting it all to the empty garage. It was a solid building. If she had it renovated, she could rent it out. He was pretty sure she could use the money.

When he returned, Sadie stood in the middle of the room, hands on her face, eyes shining. “It’s beautiful, Colin.” She reached out and hugged him, ignoring his squirming. “Just beautiful. I bought some furniture at IKEA. It will be here in a few days. Maybe next weekend you can put it together for me.”

“Sure. No problem,” he said, ears and neck scarlet. He backed away and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, pish posh,” she laughed. “You’re as bad as my Tony. Can’t handle a friendly hug.” As she left the room, she called over her shoulder. “Come along, then. Dinner’s on the table. I hope you’re hungry.”

He told her about the garage while they ate. When he’d shoved the last morsel into his mouth, he pushed the plate away. Sadie passed the meat plate and urged him to take more but he couldn’t.

“I can’t eat another bite, Sadie.” He started clearing the dishes away. “It was delicious, but you made enough to feed the neighborhood. I’m just one kid.”

She laughed. “I know. Habit, I guess, from when I had both Arthur and Tony to feed.” She helped him stack the dirty dishes on the counter and scraped the leftovers into containers as he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.

He shrugged. “Nana used to do the same thing, on holidays.”

“Hmm. Well, I guess it’s an age thing then. Getting old sucks, you know. Well, you won’t know. Not for fifty or sixty years, but one day, you’ll see I’m right.”

He was about to answer when the front door opened.

“Mom, you here?” a male voice boomed from the entry.

Sadie’s eyes lit. “It’s my Tony. Wait here. I want him to meet you.”

She bustled toward the hallway but stopped as Tony’s six-foot frame filled the doorway. She threw her arms around him. “Love? I wasn’t expecting you. Have you eaten?” She grabbed his arm and towed him to the table. “Sit. Sit.”

She turned to Colin. “Fetch a plate, will you, Colin? It’s a good thing I haven’t put the leftovers in the fridge yet.”

But Tony didn’t sit. He stared directly at Colin, who froze and blushed under his gaze. “Who the hell are you?” Tony demanded.

“I’m …”

“He’s Colin,” Sadie said, slapping Tony’s arm. “My friend. Watch your manners, young man.”

Tony kept his eyes on Colin. “If you think I’ll let you waltz into my mother’s life and take advantage of her, you’re wrong. Get out now. Before I call the cops.”

Colin straightened but kept his eyes on the ground. “I’m not taking advantage,” he said, fists tight, voice barely above a whisper.

“He certainly is not,” Sadie said, hands on hips, glaring at Tony. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Really? How so?” Tony’s voice hardened. “Looks to me like he’s made himself right at home.”

“I should go.” Colin edged around Tony’s glowering figure and escaped toward the front door.

“Don’t go, Colin.”

He ignored her. He had been taking advantage, timing his work to always be finished around dinner time. As he stepped through the doorway, he heard Sadie behind him.

“Anthony Andrew Melon, you go apologize to that boy at once, you hear?”

“No way, Mom. You have to be more cautious. Who knows who this kid is?”

“I know exactly who Colin is,” he heard Sadie say, before the front door swung shut behind him.

He didn’t blame Tony. He was just looking out for his mother the way Colin wished he could look out for his. It had been a good friendship. He’d miss Sadie but maybe it was for the best. She was Tony’s mom, not his.

Maybe it was time he found friends his own age, though where he was supposed to meet them, he had no idea. His heart hung heavy as he trudged back to his box.

A month went by. January. He’d broken down and rented a room, the weather too cold for his box, and the shelters too unsafe. He handed over the rent with a shaking hand. He had $2000 in the bank already, but it wasn’t enough. To get a real place, he’d need first, last and a security deposit.

He missed Sadie. Their conversations, mostly. He hoped she was doing well. He hoped Tony was taking good care of her.

He splurged on a weekly call to Nana. “Pretty soon, I’ll be able to rent us an apartment, Nana,” he’d said. “Then you can come here and live with me. I’ll take care of you.”

The pause on the other end of the line had him worried that something was wrong.

Then Nana’s voice, weepy and proud, answered him. “Oh, Sweetheart. I love you, you know that. But I’m not moving. All my friends are here. We play bridge once a week. And we have chair yoga. And go on outings together.”

He’d have heard her deep sigh even without the phone. “I’m too old to move, love. And I like it here. This is my home.”

He scrubbed the tears from his cheeks, but nothing scrubbed the heartache away. He’d been counting on her coming. Now, he didn’t know what to do. Anger bubbled up: at his dad for dying, at his mother for hooking up with a dirtball, at Nana for not wanting to live with him. His fists clenched and unclenched, and he shoved them in his pocket so he wouldn’t hit something.

And if he didn’t get out of here, he’d punch a hole through the wall and get himself fired.

He shrugged his backpack on and pulled his coat tightly around him. He’d traded the long coat in for the warmer, bubble version. After the altercation with Tony, the long coat no longer felt lucky. But this new coat wasn’t lucky, either, because now he’d lost Nana, too.

He stepped out the door, bracing himself. The wind was up, blowing freezing snow into his face and blistering his cheeks.

Wonderful! Bring it on. Throw more shit at me, God.

He pulled the hood up and tightened it around his face, leaving just his eyes and nose clear. He sucked in a deep icicle breath and coughed, bent forward and started his trek to his new home.

“Colin?”

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Not deep enough for his boss. And he had no work friends.

“Colin?”

With a growl, he turned. It was Tony. He scowled and the hair at the back of his neck bristled. “What do you want?”

Then realized he didn’t care what Tony wanted. He’d left Sadie alone, like the jerk had asked. It couldn’t be his work. He knew he’d done a good job on all of it. He kept going.

“Colin, stop.” Tony ran to catch up. “Please. Just stop.”

He shrugged off Tony’s hand on his arm. “I got nothing to say to you, Tony. Leave me alone.”

His fist ached to smash into Tony’s face, the guy who had ruined everything. But he didn’t, because that would upset Sadie. He started off again, mentally brushing Tony out of his space.

Tony ran in front, and stopped, blocking Colin’s path. “Hear me out. I came to apologize.”

Those words, rather than Tony’s bulk, stopped his feet. “Apologize? What for? You were right. I was taking advantage of Sadie. Free meals every weekend.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Jesus, kid. Get a grip.” Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. “I saw the work you did. It’s good. And worth a lot more than a free meal.”

Colin shrugged. “She’s my friend. She was kind to me when no one knew I was alive.”

His eyes smiled, though his mouth didn’t. “That first day, I must have smelled like a dead rat, but she never said a word, just fed me when all I did was return a key. Her friendship and those meals — they were more than money to me.”

He stepped around Tony and started walking again.

“Jesus, kid, will you just stop for a minute?” Tony ran ahead again, but this time, he turned and walked backward, a grin splitting his face. “If I fall because you won’t stop, I’m telling Sadie on you.”

Colin laughed. And stopped.

“Thanks, man. Sheesh.” Tony pulled a beanie from his pocket and pulled it over his ears. “Man, it’s cold out here.”

He stopped, looked away for a second. “I am sorry. I reacted to seeing a strange kid in her house. Mom is such a kind-hearted person, a few people have tried to take advantage since Dad died. I saw red and didn’t stop to ask questions. I’m sorry.”

“Sadie is good people. She reminds me of Nana. I’d never hurt her.”

“I get that. Now.” Tony scratched his ear, looked away and back. “I’d like you to come back. Mom won’t speak to me until I fix this, and I really need to discuss something with her.” He thrust his hand out and waited patiently. “Will you come back, Colin?”

Colin shifted, stamping his feet against the snowy sidewalk. “I can drop in this weekend. See if there is anything Sadie needs.” He took Tony’s hand and shook. “No meals, though. I’ve got a job. I can buy my own food.”

“Crap. No way. If you don’t let Mom feed you, she won’t speak to me.”

Colin laughed. “Well, maybe I can pick up some KFC. Or dessert.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Again, Tony hesitated. “Mom can’t afford to pay you, but I can. Whatever is fair. Track your hours and expenses, all that. And then bill me.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Sadie is my friend. I won’t charge her. I’m happy to fix things for her.”

Tony sighed. “Damn, you’re a tough nut. Well, I have a job for you. Not Mom. Me. And I’m not nice. I’m not your friend. So, you’ll charge me.”

Colin stepped back. An apology was one thing, appreciated and accepted. Working for his guy was another.

“You saw the garage out back, right?”

Colin nodded.

“You told Mom it could be renovated into an apartment? I want to hire you to do that. I don’t know anything about permits and builder’s codes, so you’d have to take care of that as well. Will you do it?”

Colin scuffed his cold feet. “I have a job. Besides, you’d need plumbing and electrical. I can’t do those things.”

“You could work at it evenings and weekends. I’m not in a hurry. And hire the plumber and electrician. You’ll know more about what’s needed than I would.”

“I don’t know. You really should hire a contractor.”

“I want you. Come for dinner tonight. We can talk about it in a warm house, not out in this bitchin’ cold.”

“Can I bring a bucket of KFC?”

Tony laughed. “You bet.”

Sadie hugged him when he arrived but tsked at the KFC. “I was going to make a pot roast, but you are a stubborn young man.” She bustled off to the kitchen.

Tony leaned against the hallway, arms crossed. “Thanks for coming back, Colin. It means a lot to Mom. To me.”

Colin shrugged. “No problem.”

“I have a favor to ask.” Tony peeked into the kitchen, saw that Sadie was busy setting the table. “I’ve gotten a promotion to our New York Office. It would mean a lot to me, a lot more to Sadie, if you’d look in on her from time to time. Make sure she’s doing okay.”

Colin scratched his head and looked at his feet. Of course, he’d look in on Sadie. Tony hadn’t needed to ask. So, he just nodded and walked past him into the kitchen to help Sadie.

And their conversation picked up as if he’d never been away.

The End.

© Deborah Sarty. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced without permission.

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