We surface around noon, and instead of breakfast, we order pizza. While we’re eating, his dad calls. Tommy and Earl, his father, are in the real estate business together. Tommy backs various developments in the Seattle area, buys properties his dad recommends, and the elder runs the operation. When Tommy retires, he’ll have a thriving business to step into.
“Mogul,” I’ve called him.
“Cowboy,” he’ll always reply and we’ll share a laugh.
“What a pair,” one of us will say.
Earl doesn’t know about me. He’s a widower, Tommy having lost his mom to cancer four years ago. Earl dates younger women and Tommy keeps up the pretense that he samples generous fare as well.
“Hey, Pop, how goes it?” he now says as he takes the phone to the living room because he knows I’d rather not listen.
I asked T
