Page 44 of Lovingly Restored

“What?” Mr. Lauri fiddles with the briefcase he holds in one hand.

“I need you to look at the fireplace for me. I’m wondering if you can show me how it works?”

He screws up his face like I just asked him to hold a scorpion. “That fireplace hasn’t been used in years. It’s filthy.”

“It’s been cold in the evenings. Especially for your mother. And there’s a draft that comes under the front door.”

I gesture to the damp rolled up towel on the floor.

“Old houses are draughty.”

I stick out my bottom lip, but based on the perma-scowl he wears while I pepper him with home maintenance questions, it has no influence. Not long after I started working for him, I called him about installing a ramp on the front porch, and he wasn’t interested in the slightest. Now that I know his son is a freaking carpenter, it ticks me off that he hasn’t hired Isaac to do such an imperative job. Empathy as well as DIY skills obviously skipped his generation.

“Too bad. I love sitting by the fire at night. Don’t you?”

I hear a thud somewhere in the direction of the bedrooms and release the breath I’d been holding.

“I prefer electric. It’s easier. What was that sound?”

“That’s…the house settling. I adore old houses. Their sounds, their imperfections. So much character,” I gush.

He scoffs. “This house needs so much work it’s hardly worth keeping. The neighbours across the road have the right idea.”

“The people who bulldozed their house?” I ask, trying to keep the horror out of my voice.

“That’s the one.”

There’s no way Isaac and his dad are on the same page about what to do with this house when Mrs. Lauri passes. They don’t seem like the type to have family meetings. I step aside, allowing him to pass now that the coast is clear.

“I was about to go get ready. Call if you need anything, Mr. Lauri.”

“Time to get dressed for work now, don’t you think?”

Jesus, no wonder Isaac doesn’t want to see him.

“Oh, and Miss Carter, while I have you. My mother’s hospital appointment on Monday, you’re free to take her to that, right?”

I open my mouth to speak but can’t think of what to say. Even Isaac knows I have that day off. She’s had this appointment on her calendar since before I met her, and we’d discussed that he would accompany his mother to this one. It’s at the hospital two hours away in Victoria with the same specialist who diagnosed her Alzheimer’s.

“I thought you were taking her and that there would be a respite nurse for the morning and evening routine.”

I already take her to her regular doctor, her dentist, her podiatrist. Surely Mr. Lauri wants to be there. To hear how her illness is progressing. To ask questions about her future.

“Can’t. I have meetings. I cancelled the respite nurse already. I’d prefer you.” He glances at his phone, squinting at the text on the screen. “And,” he barely glances up from his phone, “when you get back into town that afternoon, swing by her lawyer’s office. There’re some papers for her to sign there.”

Swing by?And what type of papers? It’s none of my business, though.

“Um, sure. She might be kind of tired by the end of the–”

“Here.” He shoves a business card toward me with the name and information of the legal office.

“It won’t take long.”

He goes to find Mummo, and I’m left holding the thick card wondering what on earth I’ve gotten myself into with this dysfunctional family.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I ask Mummo.

We’re finally at the lawyer, as per Mr. Lauri’s request. It’s supper time, I’m starving, and I’m more than a little nervous for whatever at home “date” Isaac has planned. I told Mummo that we didn’t have to do this extra errand today, but she insisted she was fine and wanted to get it done.

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