Kid Stuff, Right? Bk. 06

The Realtor says. "The poor boy, let's get him some food; we eat a light snack for lunch and a big dinner at about seven. The restaurants are the busiest from eight till about one am. So come, my family runs a restaurant, we will feed you. Boys got no meat on your bones, but your Caldo sexy."

We were taken to a small house with a garden out back. Mom asked for coffee.

I say. Mom, please, I like my first glass of wine; I want to be treated as I believe I earned it."

The Realtor said in Italian and told my story to her Dad; I say he got up, brought out a dusty old bottle, uncorked it, and handed me the cork. "Smells fruity and dry, not too sweet, but it has the hint of smoked apples." I say.

A small amount was poured for me. I tasted it just enough to feel the age of the sun and hard work; it did taste fruity. I offered my glass out, and it was filled. I handed my glass to my Mother, and you blushed.

Mom tasted it as the older man smiled at me and gave me another glass in Italian says. "You a good boy, you honor, love your mother."

I nodded thank you, repeated it to you, and you kissed my cheek. Then, we were told to go to the hotel and take a whole day to rest.

The Realtor says. "We got a great place to show you; it's eighty minutes from town by car during rush hour, about the half that for the train. It could use a few upgrades, but you are within walking distance of a village where you can catch a train and a two-hour train ride in Rome. You are a twenty-minute walk to the beach; there are both kinds. The house has four bedrooms, two and a half baths, and an open kitchen living room space that opens to a 12-meter by 20-meter pool and is fed by a deep water well. A bonus a well a mother in law suite and a workshop garage art space with a pottery wheel and a wood or coal-fired kiln out back. It was remodeled in the 1970s and is dated but livable."

We slept late and got up for hot coffee and breakfast, waiting at the door just minutes after calling down our order of fresh fruit, croissants, and a pot of coffee. We were driven to a small village, the shops across the village square. It was a twelve-minute drive from the shops to the villa. Pulling up, it looks old but well-loved; we parked under a portico to a side door. We walked into a great room and a large kitchen, a gas oven, a bread oven, and a pizza oven: a farm sink, a dishwasher, and a wine chiller with a large refrigerator.

Deb asked. "How was the internet way out here, out of town?"

The Realtor says. "You will have to pay for it; it's like twenty Euros monthly for satellite TV and internet. The EMS times are under an hour, but a trauma center in town and light flight can get you to an ER in under half an hour."

I signed to Mom. "This is us? My vote is yes."

Deb signed. "Yes, please go see the pool; let Mom haggle for the place."

Mom took one look at the price and says. After an inspection, we will make this our home."

Deb and I hugged Mom hard, and we squealed. OK, I tried to be more manly with my scream, but it is what it is. Looking at our pool, the hot tub, the outdoor kitchen, and the barn-like building held a shop and the suite. We ran like kids to each room; the den would be a perfect classroom. Our bedrooms were excellent: a Jack and Jill bathroom and a view of a vineyard, olive grove, and lemon orchard. The place was on ten acres, and all three were being leased from us. We have an income, but Mom was quick.

Mom says. "This all looks good, but would you mind taking us to town? I want to see a lawyer before we sign. I want my babies to have this place after I've gone."

The Realtor says. "Yes, I'll take you to the offices, but may I drop you off, and I can run see my Grandmother? She lives with my Sister? I can be back in an hour."

I saw the clock on the wall that told me she could see her but not eat with her family.

I flash Mom. "She can't have dinner there; we eat here and feel the place."

Mom tells the Realtor, " No, we have your number; call us and spend time with your family. We feel the village and must set up a few things. We went to the center, ate a sample of ice cream, and ended up with a small cone each. Mom went to see the lawyer, and Deb stopped in a chocolate shop as I went to a jeweler. I had both Mom and Deb's rings, and he sized them, and with my new Italian, I ordered three rings made of three metals twisted like a puzzle ring. I paid for it on my new credit card. I saw Deb talking in Italian, and I stopped and got us new phone plans for both our phones as Mom did hers online. I finished at the phone store and went to the ice cream shop to hand you your phone.

We talked about live music venues, and She says. "I'll take you there with my girlfriend; there's one next weekend I can get you tickets."

I say. "Who's playing? I asked my Mom might want to go; we've been going to see live music since we were twelve."

She told us it was a Nigerian-British singer; Mom has three CDs of hers. I asked how much the tickets and train were there, but I thought we would still be in Milan.

I say. "How much were the tickets and train fare?"

They told me it was a lower price than in the States. Since the concert was there, I would pay for their tickets and train fare pulling my card out to pay. We both felt Mom near us, and you looked at me, and I smiled.

Mom walks up and, in Italian, says. "What's up, my babies."

We introduced ourselves; her name was Helen, and we exchanged numbers. Mom and Deb left. I hung back, making sure I had her number right.

Helen says. "My lady is my wife of eight years, so I'm not after you or your sister. It's fun to talk with you two, your not tourists, are you?

I say. "We're buying a villa near the town; we plan to live here full-time."

We said our goodbyes, and I joined Mom and my Sister in looking for a place to eat the smell of street vendor food hit us. I point to the cart back at Helen she nods yes. We ate meat and vegetable plates; all was great, with a piece of flat bread and a cheap house wine, but it was great for what we paid. Deb asked if he was here most nights and if the menu had changed. It did; he gave us a page to log on to for updates and menus.

Walking off our dinner, we see a street busker playing Piano Man on an electric keyboard. We sat on a bench, the three of us just touching, digging his music. Mom's phone rang, and it was our ride back to the city, but her Mother told us we were invited to the next family dinner the first week of November. The inspection went great, and I went to the urgent care clinic to get my staples out, and it was eighty euros.