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I pulled out the paper, and sure enough, there was a crayon-drawn shopping list with happy fruit. That weird chest squeeze got worse.

“My son,” Delia announced, “has always shown affection through acts of service. When he was seven, he tried to fix a friend’s broken heart by restoring an abandoned bike and giving it to him.”

“Mom.”

“What? It’s true. Remember…?”

“How about I walk you to your car?” Tyson interrupted, desperation creeping into his voice.

“I didn’t drive. Walked over from Rose’s house.” She turned back to me. “My daughter lives three streets over. Convenient for babysitting.”

“She doesn’t babysit,” Tyson pointed out. “She spoils her and leaves me to deal with the sugar crash. You do the same.”

She looked unapologetic as she shrugged. “Grandparent privilege.”

They bickered with the easy rhythm of people who genuinely liked each other, and I found myself studying them over my coffee cup. The way Tyson relaxed around his mother despite the embarrassment. The way she looked at him with such obvious pride. So this was what functional families looked like.

“Oh!” I remembered. “Tyson, I wanted to talk to you about the renovation payment.”

“Here we go,” Delia muttered into her coffee.

“Charge me the full price,” I said firmly. “No neighbor discount, no friend rate, full price for the work.”

“Fifty percent discount,” he countered. “Standard for repeat customers.”

“I’m not a repeat customer.”

“You will be when you see our work.”

“Full price.”

“Okay. Sixty percent discount.”

“What?” I shrieked. “No. Full. Price.”

“Seventy percent and that’s final.”

“You’re not hearing me. Full…”

“I run the business, I set my prices. Take it or leave it.”

We’d somehow ended up facing each other across my kitchen, both leaning forward slightly. His jaw was set in that stubborn line I was beginning to recognize. My hands were planted on my hips in what Sophie used to call my battle stance.

“This is ridiculous,” I said.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m trying to pay you fairly!” Were we really having this argument?

“And I’m trying to run my business how I see fit!”

“Your business model is stupid if you’re giving discounts to every neighbor who…”

“You’re not every neighbor.”

The words hung between us, loaded with meaning neither of us was ready to examine. Delia’s coffee cup clinked against her saucer, the sound abnormally loud in the sudden silence.

“You’re impossible,” I grunted through my gritted teeth. I’d never been so upset about a freaking discount. But who gave seventy percent off?! It was just insane. They were going to basically work for free. “And stubborn.”