Page 13 of Must Love Flowers
Joan reached for her purse, and Nick led her out of the house and down the stairs. He seemed to notice the condition of the yard and paused outside the door. “If I don’t have to work Saturday, I’ll stop by and mow the lawn.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m actually hiring a lawn service.” She didn’t mention the HOA letter, knowing it would irritate her son as much as it had her. Nor did she want to start their evening on a negative note. Her mind flittered back to the conversation with the man from the lawn service. He seemed friendly and helpful. She looked forward to meeting him and was grateful he hadn’t teased her about the comment that anyone she hired must love flowers.
“You hired a service? When did you do that?” Nick seemed surprised.
“I should say I’m planning on hiring a company for yard maintenance. I’m getting a quote tomorrow from one and another the following day. I’ll go over the cost and review the contract before I make the decision.”
“Good. I wish I was more help than I have been. I know Dad would have wanted me to be available to do these sorts of things for you.” His words were laced with guilt.
“Nonsense,” Joan said, and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You have your own life.” She knew early on, after laying Jared to rest, that she couldn’t allow herself to rely on her children. She had to learn to stand on her own, as painful as that was.
He sighed as though relieved, and escorted her to his truck. Ever the gentleman, Nick opened and closed the passenger door and then walked around the front of the vehicle.
“I’m looking forward to Il Lucano,” Nick mentioned as he started the engine.
“Wonderful. I’m happy to hear they survived the lockdown.” From what the local news station had reported, Joan knew that many of the restaurants in the area hadn’t been as fortunate. It pleased her to learn that her favorite restaurant, one where she had enjoyed many celebratory meals with Jared, was still in business.
After they arrived and were seated, Joan was relieved to see that little had changed. The tables were covered with red checkered tablecloths. An empty bottle of Chianti served as the base for a candle that had melted into small rivers down the bottleneck. Traditional atmosphere and traditional Italian recipes. Home cooking, Italian style.
Joan didn’t need to peruse the menu; she ordered the samedish every visit, as the Eggplant Parmesan was her favorite. Jared hadn’t been fond of the vegetable, so she never cooked it.
In contrast, Nick carefully analyzed the menu, as if tempted by a number of dishes. After several minutes, he set aside the menu and said, “I’m going to have the Pasta Bolognese.”
Joan broke into a wide smile.
“What?” Nick asked, cocking his head to one side.
“That was your father’s favorite dish.”
“It was?” He seemed both surprised and delighted. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
The server arrived, a young man Joan didn’t recognize, who took their drink orders. Nick asked for the wine list, and together they decided on the Sangiovese. The server left, and Nick leaned back in the chair to ask, “Is that the wine Dad would have ordered?”
“No, he preferred Brunello di Montalcino when he could find it. You know how your father enjoyed discovering new wines.”
Nick shrugged. “I think Dad got into wine more after Steve and I left home.”
Joan agreed as the waiter returned with the bottle and two stemware glasses. After opening and pouring the wine, he was ready to take their dinner orders. It wasn’t long before their meals arrived.
The Eggplant Parmesan was as good as Joan remembered. The wine relaxed her, and for the first time in longer than she could remember she felt like her old self. “I have an idea I’d like your opinion on.”
“Sure, what is it?”
Without going into a lot of detail, she relayed her short conversation with Charlene from that afternoon.
Nick listened intently. “You aren’t really considering taking in a boarder, are you?”
“Actually, I am.” Joan had been taken by the story Charlene told of the nursing student. All the poor girl needed was a hand up and a decent place to live.
Her son shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Joan wasn’t defensive, only curious at how adamant Nick seemed to feel.
“It would be a mistake to let a stranger into the house, Mom.”
“She has excellent references, or so I’ve heard. I plan to check them out myself, of course.”
Nick listened intently. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, Mom. The choice is yours.”
