4

      BY MONDAY AFTERNOON, Tony had finished transferring what he needed to make his father’s old office feel like his own. He’d also gotten more comfortable with being the boss, although there were a few decisions he wished his father could have made.

      He heard a low voice in the reception area, one he’d recognize in a blackout. Well, at least the old man had lasted almost a whole week without coming to check up on his empire.

      Tony was delighted to see that his mom had come, too, and that Joe was wearing a Hawaiian-print shirt, one he was allowed to wear only on vacations. They were both chatting with Gina as if their separation had been years instead of days. Tony joined them, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. “Worried the place was falling apart?”

      Joe gave him a scowl. “You think I don’t trust you? I trust you. The real question is do you trust you?”

      “I’m working on it, Pop. I don’t know if I’ll ever figure out how you kept Luca and Dom in line.”

      His mother frowned, although he knew the look was more for effect than anything. “All three of you were no picnic, believe me.”

      “I know.” Tony grinned. “Honestly, though, they’ve both been fine. Luca, a little finer than Dominic. You know how he is. The kid thinks he’s Sinatra or something, and he’s tone deaf.”

      “Sinatra was from Jersey,” Gina said. “Dom wants to be the king of Little Italy.”

      “It’s a small kingdom.” Tony walked over to the whiteboard without really looking at it. “Getting smaller by the day.”

      “We’re not going to talk about work,” his mother said. Theresa was really the boss of the family, and everyone knew that. She didn’t mind leaving the details to her brood, but anything big was Ma’s domain.

      “All right,” Tony said. “Is this a stopover visit on your way to rehab?”

      Joseph cursed in Italian the same second Tony’s mother said, “Yes. This stubborn mule of a husband thinks he’s wasting his time. You’d think the second heart attack would have gotten through his thick head.”

      It actually felt good, hearing the two of them bicker. Like home.

      Tony had to take a phone call, so he went to his office. It was Dave, the metalworker he’d called about Catherine’s staircase and fireplaces. Tony gave him some preliminary measurements and Catherine’s number.

      Just as he ended the call, he realized his father had entered the room. He was looking at all the things Tony had changed. Slowly. Making a mental tally. The expression on his face broke Tony’s heart. Made him wish he’d never changed anything at all.

      “It’s good,” Joe said. “You taking over.”

      “It’s necessary,” Tony told him, walking around the desk to sit on the front corner to free up his pop’s old chair. “We need you to stick around as our dad way more than we need you to run this place.”

      “I know the reasons. There’s just so damn many hours in the day. Even with three meals and a visit to the torture room, I’ve still got too much empty space.”

      “Ma hasn’t put you to work?”

      “Stupid things, sure. A real project, like painting that spare room? She thinks I’ll die on her Persian carpet.”

      “Have you tried going to the park like we talked about?”

      “I don’t like the way they changed the park. Too many strangers and kids.”

      “They’re only strangers until you talk to them. You like chess. They play chess.”

      “I like playing with people I know.”

      “And what do you mean you don’t like kids? That’s not true.”

      “I want grandkids,” Joe grumbled. “Not strangers’ kids. You and Angie should’ve had two bambinos by now, instead of getting divorced.”

      Tony’s insides coiled into a knot. “Come on, Pop, we’re not going to talk about that.”

      Joe shrugged. “So, I hear you’re working personally with Catherine Fox.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “I got ears that work. She’s got big pockets, that one. Very deep. She has some crazy ideas, but they’re not so crazy if you think about them.”

      “You mean the restoration?”

      “The value of the house will go up, you know that. Along with making the upgrades.”

      “She wants a rooftop garden.”

      Joe’s eyes widened. “No kidding.”

      “What’s worse? She wants to live there. Full-time.”

      Joe moved across the room and settled into his old black chair.

      Tony smiled to himself and took one of the guest chairs.

      “She could make a fortune selling that place. When she gets done with it, garden or no, it’ll be a jewel on that street.”

      “I know. But she doesn’t want to go.”

      “With those old ladies she’s got for neighbors? She’ll want to.”

      Tony knew more about those two than he’d like. They’d both called him in the last couple days. Asked every question in the book about Catherine. He’d cut them off, refused to discuss his client with them. When all he’d wanted to do was tell them both where to go. But he was his mother’s son, so he’d been nice...ish.

      Speaking of his mother, she walked in right at that moment and made her famous whimper of exasperation while throwing her hands up in the air. As if the world itself was ending.

      She slapped Tony’s shoulder. “You just let him take over? The first time we come to visit you start talking business?”

      Shaking his head, Tony held back a smile.

      “What business?” his father said, gesturing expansively. “I’m sitting in my old chair. Is that a crime?”

      She