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“You know it’s happening everywhere, Gene.” His mother clicked her tongue. “The board will recommend it, the residents will fight it, then eventually the locals will be overruled and buildings will go up.”
It was the way of things. Developers with deep pockets could afford to pay off a lot of the right people to get what they wanted. It wasn’t exactly legal, but there wasn’t much the general populace, or even law enforcement could do to combat it.
“Now put your phone down so you don’t get heartburn while you eat,” his mother scolded, “and say hello to your son.”
His father did as his wife ordered, looking up with a smile. “Hi Cisco. It’s very interesting to see you on a Saturday before work.” He quirked an eyebrow, silently urging Cisco to explain.
Cisco sat down and grinned as he reached for a sandwich. His Pops knew him well.
Cisco took a bite, slowly chewed and swallowed, then gave his good news.
“I’ve been put on the day shift, seven to three, Monday thru Friday.”
“Oh, Cisco!” His mother clapped her hands together and effused. “I’m so happy for you. This has been a long time coming.”
“Not really,” Cisco countered, grabbing a huge handful of chips from the bag to put on his plate. “I only put in for the change a few weeks ago.”
“Right,” his father said. “But Frank knows you’ve wanted it for quite a while now. What made the old goat change his mind?”
Cisco knew that the “old goat” moniker was given with love. His family had been friends with the Ildavorgs since the first year they’d moved to town when Frank was a simple patrolman, and Pops a fledgling construction engineer.
Cisco quickly downed the first half of his initial sandwich, then used his finger to scoop up a blob of egg salad that had escaped, sucking it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said appreciatively before answering his father. “There’s a camp out on Lake Pushaw that contacted him about an officer who might be available to teach self-defense to their campers.”
Again, his mother looked so pleased. “And you fit the bill perfectly, so he changed your schedule.”
“Temporarily?” his father asked, making smaller inroads into his plate than Cisco’s plow-through mode of destruction.
“Nope,” Cisco responded, happily chewing again. “Permanently, even though the camp gig only lasts two-ish months.”
“That’s wonderful, Cisco. Congratulations,” his mother effused. “Should we go out some night this week and celebrate?”
“Uncle Frank has that covered,” Cisco told them after polishing off the second half of his initial sandwich. “He and Aunt Suze want us over for dinner on Thursday night. Are you free?” he asked, even knowing that the answer would be yes. His parents worked full time, and rarely left the house once they got home. Or should he say—regarding his mother—that she hit her easy chair after her every-other-night run.
“We’ll make sure we are,” his mother answered decisively. “I’ll call and see what time she’d like us and find out what I should bring.”
Cisco snagged sandwich number two, licking around the edges to prevent more spill-out. He wasn’t a pig, but there was no need to stand on ceremony at his folks’ table. “She’s quilting this weekend at some retreat, so don’t call until tomorrow night.”
His mother nodded and began eating, which is when Cisco began slowing down, pondering how to bring up the next subject he wanted to broach.
Dammit. This was harder than he thought, and not something he’d generally ask his parents, but they’d been in love for a long time, so…why not get advice from the experts?
Cisco took a deep breath.
“So… I met this woman.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
During the entire drive back to his house, Cisco thought about his mother’s not-so-sage-advice.
Just be yourself, honey, and the girl will come around. You’re a good person, and she’ll see that, eventually.
Cisco appreciated her certainty, but he doubted it would hold true. He’d already been as nice as he could be—on his best behavior, really—with Hilly, and she’d still regarded him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock.
His father’s words of encouragement were even more vague.
If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.
It’s meant to be? Cisco repeated in his head. What was it, and… Meant to be what? Wasn’t that the flipping question of the day.