A Father's Name(32)
“I can do it on my own,” he maintained.
Tucker recognized stubbornness when she saw it. She’d grown up with her father after all. He still managed to throw out getting a partner comments whenever he had a chance. She was pretty sure that bullheadishness was a gene that attached to the Y chromosome. Maybe it wasn’t just bullheadishness. Maybe it was pride. Patiently, she acknowledged he was right. “You can do it on your own, but you don’t have to, and I’ve decided that I’m going to take my own advice and I’m going to take you up on your offer.”
“What offer?”
Pride wasn’t related to gender. She certainly had some. Possibly it was time to set it aside as an example to him. “Well, actually, I was going to barter with you. I’ll still help with Jace, while you look for a reliable sitter in Whedon, and you’ll do some of the paperwork.”
“I went to jail for embezzlement.” His voice rose from their hushed tones, and he stalked down the hall and toward the kitchen muttering.
Tucker followed after him and caught the last part of his soliloquy. “What kind of person would let me anywhere near their books?”
Tucker caught his arm, and spun him around, then pointed at her t-shirt. It was baby blue and had a small yellow bird with googly eyes and said, Crazy Car Chick.
He scowled, but she could catch a hint of humor beneath his annoyance. “I’m going to have to start paying attention to your t-shirts.”
She grinned, but didn’t say anything as she waited for him to continue.
Finally, Tyler sighed. “Yes, Tucker, if the offer still stands, I’ll take it.”
She pushed her luck and asked, “With both the room and the babysitting?”
He nodded. “So, it’s not only Bart who gets Angelina’s life lessons, it’s me?”
“It is. And can you tell me what your life lesson was today?”
“When someone offers to help, I should say yes?”
“Not all the time, but in this instance, yes. When people love your kid and want to help, you should say yes.”
“He is mine now, isn’t he? The thought still terrifies me.”
“It should—at least if you were doing it alone, but in this case, you have help. You know what they say, it takes a village—or in this case a garage—to raise a child.” She laughed at her own poor adaptation of the phrase. “It’s okay to be single and a little hung up on your feelings, but when you have kids, they have to come first above everything else. So, what if we run to Home Depot and look at some paint tomorrow? We can start on the room. And maybe next week, you can take a look at my books and offer a few suggestions.”
“You’re pushy and crazy,” Tyler said with no heat.
Tucker agreed. “I know. I think I have a t-shirt that says as much.”
Tyler tried to look stern, but in the end, he laughed. “I’m sure you do.”
TUCKER WAS ON TYLER’S doorstep at ten the next morning, Bart in tow. “The painting crew has arrived.”
She’d made a run to the store and bought various shades of blue paint, and she’d also packed some of her tools of the trade, most notably her airbrush and a small, portable compressor.
Bart was handing a second load of things from the car.
“You gonna give us a hand?” she asked.
Tyler leaned over to pick up her compressor and stopped mid-way to stare at her chest.
She might have taken offense, but she knew he noticed her shirt. “I wore it for you.” It showed a woman pushing a car up a hill and read, Pushy Women Get the Job Done. “It was a present from Lou.”
Tyler chuckled and picked up the compressor. “How many t-shirts do you own?”
Bart came up behind his mother. “Way too many. I think both her dressers are filled with them. She has them organized by color and by age. The older ones are work shirts, the newer ones she considers dressy.”
“This is an old one,” she clarified, “’cause we’re here to work.”
“I’m here for a few hours, then I’ve got to go,” Bart added apologetically.
“It’s nice of you to do this. Both of you,” he clarified.
“Don’t fool yourself. Mom’s not merely doing, she’s in charge. She might let you think you’re the boss. I mean, after all, it’s your house, but she won’t trust you with painting. We’re her peons. That’s it.”