Page 57 of The Star in Room 7

Mom stands to greet me.

“Hi, Mom.” I kiss her cheek.

“We missed you last week,” she says, staring at me from under her floppy sun hat.

“Sorry. I was busy. You know how it gets sometimes.”

She brushes her cheek with the back of her gloved hand, getting dirt on her skin. “Too busy for family?”

I spread my arms wide. “I’m sorry. Where’s Dad?”

“Inside. Watching some sport or other.”

“I’ll give him a wave.”

I nip inside and find Dad in the living room, watching Football. He’s leaning forward on his seat, shouting at the screen like he’s a team coach.

“Hi, Nate. Can you believe the orders this coach is giving? He’s an idiot.”

“I’m sure you’d do a better job.”

“I would. Ah, but you know Little League’s my thing.”

I do know. He coached my team growing up. “Do you need anything from the kitchen?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” He waves his hand.

Chuckling, I go to the kitchen and open the fridge. As usual, Mom’s got a pitcher of iced tea in there. I pour myself a glass and take it outside.

Mom is kneeling by her flower beds again, pulling out weeds and straightening the edging rocks, where one or more of the boys have knocked them out of place while playing.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” She attacks a particularly stubborn weed with the garden fork like it’s personally offended her.

“I’m good.” I kneel beside her.

She pauses and gives me the side eye. “Anything I should know about?”

“Nope. Not that I can think of.”

“Business is going well?”

“It’s going great. I signed up a new client this week and hired some promising new agents. I honestly can’t complain.”

She smiles and squeezes my knee, getting my trousers dirty. “I’m proud of you, Nate.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I just wish we saw you more often.”

“Mom…”

“And that you had more time to yourself.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”