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Steam from the shower filled the small bathroom. Marco threw back the shower curtain just as Kate flipped her thick, brown hair upside down, scissors in hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, reaching for his towel.
She looked up at him sideways, her hair falling around her face. “Cutting my hair—just a trim.” She grinned at him. “Don’t worry.”
Patting himself dry, he said, “Shouldn’t ya’ have someone do that for ya’?”
She brushed the ends together into a bunch and started snipping. “Too expensive.” She continued cutting inch-long chunks of hair and let them fall into the sink.
“Do you have any idea how much it costs for me to get a haircut these days?”
“No. And I don’t wanna’ know.”
She straightened up and let her hair fall wildly around her face.
“Very expensive.”
“I hate this,” Marco said. He wrapped his towel around his waist and moved next to her in front of the mirror, combing his damp black curls.
“What?”
“All this scrimpin’ to get by.”
She continued clipping her ends. “Me, too.”
Marco drew up his sweatpants. “I just wish I was makin’ more money, ya’ know? Maybe I could find somethin’ else, too. Part-time to supplement my job at the shop. If I could do that, we’d be fine.”
“That’d be nice, but I think we’ll be okay.”
Marco pulled her close. “Look at you.”
She smiled. “What?”
“You know what.” He pushed his face into her neck and inhaled. “After all these years, you still get me goin’.”
She watched his eyes wander and leaned in.
“Mom!”
“Oh, God.”
Kate ran out of the bathroom to yell downstairs.
“Coming sweetie! Do you have your backpack?”
“Yes! Come on. We’re gonna be late!”
“Your homework assignment?”
“YE-us! Come on!”
She returned to the bathroom. “Do you hear how low his voice is getting?”
Marco frowned. “Yeah. But he’s closing in on fourteen. Nothin’ we can do about it.”
“I’m not ready.”
She ran to the bedroom closet to look for her shoes while she buttoned her blouse. “Gotta’ go!”
She felt a smack on her ass. She turned and smiled.
Marco smiled back. “Have a great day today, baby. Sell some stuff.”
“And you have a great first day. See you tonight. We’ll grill some burgers. Sound good?”
“Sounds awesome. Hopefully, this snow stops later on. It’s supposed to.”
She blew him a kiss as she grabbed her briefcase and yelled to Renzo as she hurried down the stairs.
Renzo sat impatiently in the front passenger seat of Kate’s beat-up Ford. He shook his head at his mother as she climbed in, tossing her briefcase in back.
“Sorry,” she said, ignoring his crabby preteen attitude as he sat quietly stewing.
She backed down the long driveway, realizing her son was right. They were late. She tried not to rush through traffic as they headed for Cleveland Junior High.
After driving a few blocks, Renzo turned to Kate. “Can I go to the movies with Michael and his parents tonight?”
“It’s a school night. No.”
“No, it’s not. It’s Friday.”
“Oh! It is.” She shook her head. “I need to get my head in the game. I guess it’s okay.”
“Can I sleep over, too?”
“Sure, I suppose that’s ok.”
She pulled her car behind a row of others lined up for drop-off in front of the old brick school building. The usual kids mulled around the front sidewalk and trampled lawn. Renzo pulled himself out of the car and turned to say goodbye.
Kate smiled at her son, longing for the days of a quick kiss and hug before he left her. “I’ll have to check with Michael’s parents about tonight,” she said.
“Okay,” Renzo said.
“Bye, sweetie! Have a great day!”
He gave her a backhanded wave as he ran to meet up with Sean and some other boys. Kate stared after him, frowning.
When did he get so tall?
She shook her head and pulled back onto Lawson Street and headed toward her office.
She spent her day looking at properties with prospective buyers, replying to e-mails and returning calls. After lunch, she remembered to call Michael’s parents to confirm that the movie and sleepover were okay with them, and made arrangements to drop him off after work.
Her desk phone rang just as she was packing up to leave for the day. She was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but instead, picked it up after three rings.
“Kate De Luca. How may I help you?”
“Yeah, Ms. De Luca. How you doin’? My name is Eddie Bracchio.”
Kate was so thrown by the New York accent she almost chuckled.
The caller continued. “I was told by Jim Schmeising from your office that you were the agent in charge-a stuff in the Payne Avenue area.”
“That’s right. I am. Are you looking for residential or commercial property?”
“Commercial. I’m ah’ ... wonderin’ if you got any places for a little Italian restaurant in that area—Payne Avenue somewhere’s.”
“Sure. Um ...” She flipped her hair behind her ear and sat back in her chair, thankful she hadn’t yet logged off her computer. She pulled up her available properties near that area and scrolled through.
“It looks like I have a few places on the northern end of Payne and one at the far south of it, close to Seventh Street, although I’m not sure whether that one is suitable for a restaurant. It’s a former office building. It’s been vacant for quite some time. I—”
“Those sound great. We can save that last one for the end. How about tomorrow morning? I know it’s Saturday. Would that work anyway? Say ten o’clock?”
“Sure. Saturday is no problem. She gave him the address to the first place. I’ll meet you there and show you around and we’ll take it from there.”
“Sounds real good. Appreciate that. See ya’ tomorrow then, Ms. De Luca.”
“Kate. Call me Kate.”
“Alright, Kate. And you call me Eddie.”
“I will. See you tomorrow, Eddie. Thanks for calling.”
“Ya’ welcome.” Eddie hung up.
Kate looked at the phone and let out a chuckle.
“Okay. That was different.”
She logged off her computer, grabbed her purse and briefcase and left for home, excited to tell Marco about her new prospective client.
