The boy stared up at me as if I walked on water, and I smiled. “It was no trouble at all. You’re not having fun unless you’ve got a few scrapes.”
“The helmet was a smart and generous gift,” he added. “I understand it was your son’s when he was smaller.”
I looked from boy to grandfather. Mr. Casale was taller than I and his posture straight. He seemed very polite with me, yet looking in his dark gaze, I saw shrewdness, as if while we were talking, he was assessing me.
“Yes. My son, Chris, is away at college and is much too big to wear it anymore. I thought Marco might get enjoyment out of it.”
“It is a safe thing to do. You are very wise.”
I sighed. “Wise? I’m not sure about that, but I’ve raised a boy, so I know what can happen. We’ve gone through our fair share of bumps and scrapes.”
“No doubt at your work as well,” Mr. Casale added, looking down at the light blue scrubs I wore.
“Yes, that’s true.”
“We won’t keep you as you must be tired, but I would like to offer you a meal from our restaurant as a thank-you.”
I quickly made the connection. “Oh, your family runs Casale’s over on St. Paul.”
I’d never been to the small Italian restaurant, but had heard great things. Friends had tried to get a table weeks out, yet they were always booked. That it was Marco’s family’s place made it something I would have to try, even without a thank-you meal.
“Yes. You will come have a meal and some wine, on the house.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Casale, but I can’t go like this, and I’d need to clean up and—”
He held up his hand to stop me. “Not tonight then, I understand. Tomorrow?”
He was certainly insistent. “I work again tomorrow and Wednesday.”
Marco remained quiet as we spoke, watching us both earnestly.
“Then we will bring the meal to you,” Mr. Casale said with a nod. “If you have no objection, we will have dinner packaged and brought here tomorrow night. Then you will have no need to cook after another long day, nor go out when you wish to relax at home.” He picked up one of the bags of groceries and started up the steps. “Marco.” He pointed to the other bag and the child grabbed it and followed. I had no choice but to follow as well.
I doubted he would take no for an answer so I agreed to his offer with a thank-you.
The crunching of glass had Mr. Casale stopping, lifting his foot. “What is this?”
Looking up at the front of my house, I saw that my outdoor lights were broken and the glass scattered on the steps and concrete. I had a small light by the door that was connected to a timer, turning on and off with dusk and dawn, but I also had a motion sensor light off to one side. Simon had installed it after he moved in so that it lit up the side of both of our houses.
“What on earth?” I said to no one in particular. Shit, what a mess! I wanted to swear out loud, but I was used to tempering those words around kids. “The lights are all broken.”
Mr. Casale frowned and Marco watched both of us, unsure.
I sighed, then remembered myself. “Here, sorry.”
I unlocked the front door, taking the grocery bags from both of them, sticking them inside.
“Has this happened before?” Mr. Casale asked, glancing down the street one way, then the other, his look shrewd. While a car drove by, nothing seemed unusual. I didn't see any glass on Simon's stoop, nor the house on the other side.
“No,” I grumbled, tossing up my hands. “Just leave it. I’ll sweep it up so no one cuts themselves, but will get new bulbs after work tomorrow.”
Mr. Casale shook his head. “I will have this taken care of for you.” When I was about to object, he cut me off by holding up his hand. “I will have my son, Frank, take care of replacing the lights for you while you are working. He will be here at seven thirty tomorrow night to make sure the work is acceptable and bring your meal. All right?”
Tilting my head, I eyed the man, tryi
ng to read him, which seemed impossible. I didn’t want to play poker with him. “I have a feeling you’re going to get your way, aren’t you?”
I glanced down at Marco for confirmation and he just grinned, a dimple creasing his cheek. “He always gets his way,” he whispered, but Mr. Casale heard and chuckled.