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Her tummy answered with a loud growl before she had a chance to say anything. Daddy laughed again and she grinned up at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Go wash your hands and meet me downstairs.”
She popped out of the chair and tripped over her PJs before she remembered to pull them up. When she yanked them up, she was a little disappointed her panties didn’t bother her bottom anymore.
Once she’d washed her hands, she raced down the stairs to the kitchen. They had a dining room, but mostly they used it for fancy grownup parties. She loved her parties, but her favorite place to eat was at the little nook in the corner of the kitchen by the big bay window.
The scent of garlic and tomato sauce hit her as soon as she ran through the kitchen entryway. “Spaghetti? We’re having spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs. From scratch, just like Nonna taught me,” James said with a wink.
Olivia was hopeless in the kitchen, a fact that had devastated her Nonna until James had come along, eager to learn. Falling easily into their routine, Olivia grabbed a set of plates and silverware and set the table. She was reaching for a bottle of wine when she remembered they were back to normal, so she needed to ask.
“Can we have wine with dinner, Daddy?”
“Sure. But just a small glass each.”
She wanted to pout, but all that would get her was a sore bottom and no wine. So she picked out a bottle of red and poured them each a glass. James brought over a bowl of spaghetti and a bowl with the meatballs and sauce and set them on the table. At his nod, she scooped up a small serving of spaghetti for herself and two meatballs.
“So do you want to tell me what was really going on with you and MaryAnn this afternoon?” James asked casually as he served himself.
Frowning at the unpleasant memory, she cut into her meatball. “We handled it. I don’t want to get her in trouble.”
“I appreciate that. But I need to know if there’s a problem.”
It went against her nature to rat out a friend, and despite her behavior that afternoon she did consider MaryAnn a friend. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t just her husband and Daddy, he was also her boss. As her boss, he had a right to know when there was a potential issue with a sale. “We missed a deadline for the D’Angelos’ lender.”
“That’s a problem, Olivia.”
“I’m aware, James,” she snapped, infusing his name with more sarcasm than was probably wise given the current situation.
“Careful with the attitude. I just meant it’s a problem, and I need to be aware of these things. Do I need to speak with MaryAnn tomorrow?”
Olivia shook her head. “No. It was partly my fault. I dropped the paperwork off with her and didn’t follow up.”
“All right. I trust you two to get it fixed. What’s your pipeline looking like these days? Anything you need help with?”
With that crisis handled, she relaxed into the easy and familiar conversation. Sipping her wine, she mentally flipped through her files. “Actually, there is this one client. They’re being difficult about the price. Comps in the area are going for about five to five-sixty, but theirs is in need of some serious upgrades. I’m trying to talk them into coming down about thirty thousand, but they won’t listen to me. And they’re being stubborn about doing basic shi—stuff to make the house presentable.”
Shaking his head, James gave a derisive snort. “Well, if they’re not listening to you, they’re morons. You’re my top agent, and one of the best in the state.”
She grinned at his praise. “I am pretty good at my job. Which makes it even more frustrating that they don’t seem to trust me.”
“Want me to talk to them?”
Twirling pasta onto her fork, she considered the offer. “Maybe.”
“All right. Just let me know. Anything else?”
“Nothing off the top of my head. How did the interview go?”
James gave her a very uncharacteristic eye roll. “I wouldn’t trust him to sell doghouses on the side of the road. He had no clue what he was talking about, but he thinks he knows everything. You know the type.”
Giggling, she lifted her wineglass to her lips. “I’m well acquainted with the species.”
“I did have a promising interview with another agent earlier this morning. And I have a few more interviews tomorrow as well. Do you want more spaghetti?” he asked, nodding to her empty plate.
“Nope. Full as a tick.”
