Thanks to everyone who read and as always reviews are appreciated.
Sorry about the delay,, real life is being itself.
Monroe sighed with relief as the crush of bodies finally lessened, the other passengers hurrying ahead of him towards the security exit. Not that he didn't want out of the airport too, especially after the four hours and change he'd just spent trapped in a cramped metal tube with air filtration systems that weren't nearly as good as the airline designers thought they were, but he was willing to start with enough room to stand up straight and roll his shoulders.
The crowding continued to lessen as he trailed a mob of other passengers out into the airport proper, and after a few minutes of scanning he finally located Rosalee and Roddy standing against the wall. He smiled and shifted direction immediately but had to slow a little as he approached because he still wasn't entirely sure what the etiquette was around—
Rosalee stepped forward as soon as he was close enough and pulled him into a kiss. Oh. Okay.
Roddy was rolling his eyes when they broke apart again, even if his focus was nominally on one of the departure boards, and Monroe fought down a smile and offered an arm. "Hey, kid. I heard you've had a rough couple days."
"'m fine," he said immediately, although he stepped into the hug willingly enough. "Was just some jerk."
From Rosalee's expression she shared Monroe's opinion on that subject, but she smiled anyway as Monroe released Roddy. "So how was your flight?"
"Not bad. Long, but a layover would have been worse, so…." He shrugged. "At least there wasn't much in the way of turbulence."
"Are you hungry? I know it's a little early, but all we had for lunch was the last of the Chinese from yesterday, and Roddy and I were thinking that if you were up for it, we'd stop somewhere on the way home."
"Dinner sounds great, especially since I'm still on east coast time so my stomach disagrees with you on the 'too early' part." He paused. "Something other than salads, though? Not that I don't appreciate a good salad, but my mother's idea of vegetarian is all greens all the time, and even then I had to repeat more than once that yes, chicken and small mammals are, in fact, meat."
That got a grimace from Roddy, probably because he had a good idea of who a Blutbad might consider a small mammal, but Rosalee only nodded.
"What about Indian? That should give all of us plenty of options." She glanced in the direction of the 'baggage claim' signs. I don't know how long it'll take for them to get your luggage off the plane, but hopefully they're feeling efficient."
"No luggage, just this," he corrected quickly, gesturing to his carry-on.
"What? Didn't you have a suitcase when I dropped you off?"
"I did, but it was more than half books and a couple records that my dad wanted to borrow, and since what my parents had for me was mostly…." He shook his head. "Well, let's just say that none of us were thrilled with the idea of trusting antiques to holiday baggage handling, so I just boxed my suitcase and everything up, and one of them will drop it at the FedEx place in a couple weeks after the craziness has died down. But Indian sounds great. Shall we go?"
Rosalee's car was at the far end of short term parking, making their final exit from the airport easier, and the restaurant she picked was a familiar one which Monroe appreciated. And whatever Roddy might think about it, he made sure that the kid was tucked into the inside of their booth because his definition of 'fine' was clearly relative. The fact that he only nibbled at the naan the waitress brought and insisted that all he wanted for dinner was vegetable soup backed up Monroe's assessment, but since it was pretty obvious that he had no intention of saying anything useful yet, Monroe let himself be distracted by Rosalee's description of what they'd been up to at the shop interspersed with her questions about his trip.
He was talking about the pre-war Cadillac that Uncle Ted had found in some junkyard and that he and Dad were trying, and thus far mostly failing, to restore when the waitress came by for about the fourth time in ten minutes, and he realized abruptly that it was well past dark. The restaurant was also considerably more crowded than it had been when they'd come in, and while there was still some food on the plates in front of he and Rosalee since the restaurant didn't skimp on portions, neither of them had taken a bite in quite a while.
"Oh. I guess we should probably head out and free up their table," Rosalee said, obviously just noticing the same thing and pulling out her card to offer before Monroe could. She flushed a little. "It looks like we knocked Roddy out too."
He was asleep in the corner, Monroe's coat between his head and the wood of the wall and Monroe frowned. "Should we be convincing him to go see a doctor?"
"It hasn't even been a week since it happened. If he's still not feeling well next week my answer might be different, but right now rest is really the best thing for him."
Monroe nodded and then considered for a moment. His ability to lift Roddy wasn't in question, but probably not without waking him. He shook Roddy's shoulder gently.
Roddy blinked and straightened, scrubbing at his eyes, and he finally focused on Monroe as the waitress returned with Rosalee's card and take-home containers for their leftovers. "Hm? Oh, sorry. What time is it?"
"Nothing to be sorry for, but it is getting a little late. Apparently Rosalee and I lost track of time." It happened sometimes when the two of them got to talking. "But if you've gotten enough to eat, we're about ready to go. I guess all of your stuff is at Rosalee's, isn't it?" He'd assumed she'd just leave Roddy with him, but that didn't work without the kid's violin and backpack.
"I was just thinking about that," Rosalee said before Roddy could answer. "Why don't we drop you off at your house tonight, and you can stop by the spice shop whenever you'd like tomorrow to pick him up. That way Roddy can get his things together without rushing, and you'll have time to do whatever chores you need to too. Unpacking, laundry I'm sure there's a list." She smiled at Roddy. "Plus then I'll have him around for a couple hours in the morning to finish a few more variants on blackberry leaf tea."
"Totally a Seelengut," Roddy muttered, which as far as non-sequiturs went was a distinctly odd one, but since he didn't seem to object to the actual plan, Monroe nodded.
"Sounds good. I have a feeling I'll need to make a run to the grocery store if nothing else." Not that Nick wouldn't have kept the fridge at least quasi-stocked, but he tended to be considerably more conservative in his choices of fruits and vegetables than Monroe.
Rosalee and Roddy left him in front of his mailbox, and it wasn't until she'd pulled away again that he realized that he should have invited them in for a few minutes because she hadn't even gotten to see the trains yet.
Oh, well. There would be other, probably better, opportunities, especially since he hadn't done the full setup this year. Not that the trains weren't impressive on their own, but you really needed the lights to make the whole scene.
He didn't see Nick's Jeep anywhere along the road, and when he let himself inside the house was dark and quiet, but Nick had said that he'd expected to pick up several extra shifts over the holiday. Monroe did a quick unpack, tossed his laundry into the machine, and then sent a very belated text to his mother that he'd made it home safe. And realized that he'd missed a call from Frank at some point during dinner too. With a quick check of the clock, he went ahead and hit redial.
"Rabe," Frank answered almost immediately.
"Hey, it's Monroe, just returning your call. I hope this isn't a bad time."
"No, no, it's excellent, actually, Barry is on his way up to the house to see if he can find more chocolate. Apparently I grossly underestimated the number of bars necessary for s'mores."
Monroe laughed. "Sounds like your camping trip is going well, then."
"It's been nice, I'm glad we decided to do it. But have you seen Roddy?"
"Yeah, he and Rosalee picked me up at the airport earlier." Monroe hesitated, but Frank had been the one to tell him about Roddy's concussion in the first place. "He's looking a little rough. We went out for dinner, but he barely ate anything and fell asleep partway through."
"That doesn't surprise me. And…well, I assume that you know where he lives?"
"Sure, he's got a trailer up by the river. Is that a problem?" Given where the Rabes lived, some classism was maybe not unexpected; Monroe might even have felt the same way if he hadn't spent most of his formative years around packmates who'd considered a double-wide the height of luxury. But he wasn't sure why that would require a phone call.
"It shouldn't be, I suppose." Frank sounded a little reluctant. "But has he said anything to you about maintenance issues?"
"I don't think so, at least not beyond that whole mess with the power lines back at Thanksgiving." Monroe tried to remember if he'd noticed any problems himself when he'd picked Roddy up for lunch before The Nutcracker—he'd have to remember to take Rosalee to see that next year too, even if Roddy wouldn't be playing—but he'd been more focused on Roddy's uncles at the time. "Why do you ask?"
"I stopped by to pick up his violin and some clothing this past weekend, and to be blunt, I'm concerned about how livable the place is."
"What?"
"The heat was off when I arrived, and when I asked, he admitted that that's a recurring problem. Or to be more specific, he said that it cuts out sometimes but it's 'not a big deal' since he can get it going again. Now, I make no great claims about my knowledge of anything electrical, but I am comfortable in stating that that's not how a heater should function. To go along with that, a plumbing line that burst at Thanksgiving still hasn't been fixed rendering his kitchen only quasi-usable and there are rodents living in the walls, and those are only what I noticed during a ten minute visit." This time Frank was the one who paused. "I don't believe that the rodents—mice or rats, I couldn't tell you which offhand—came up when he and I were talking, but he did say that his landlord was aware of the first two, and he didn't seem particularly optimistic about anything getting fixed anytime soon."
"Is that even legal?" Monroe had to wonder, although he cared a lot more about the utilities than any potential rats in the area given Roddy's abilities.
A sigh. "Generally speaking, no. I can't say that I've got the case law to hand, but Portland has some fairly strong tenant protection laws, and even if you leave the plumbing entirely aside a rodent infestation and a heater that has repeatedly failed to heat easily fail to meet minimum standards. Unfortunately there are any number of games that landlords can play to draw things out, and an eighteen year old intending to vacate in less than a year is very much a ripe target for that sort of thing."
"Right, sorry, forgot that you actually are a lawyer."
That got a quick chuckle out of Frank, but when he spoke again his voice was serious. "Regardless, I don't like the idea of sending him home to that, especially in the middle of winter, and the fact that he's dealing with a concussion doesn't make any of it better. I'm assuming that you or Rosalee will be keeping him through the weekend, and I'm sure that Barry will ask him back here again next week—and to be clear I'm happy to have him—but that doesn't precisely describe a stable living situation."
Monroe sighed. He already expected that prying details about the concussion out of Roddy would be a failing endeavor; if he was having house problems on top of that…. "I'll see what I can—oh."
"I'm sorry?"
"It just occurred to me that while I'm not an electrician either, I do have a friend who's pretty good at almost everything when it comes to the building trades. I know he's got a fair amount of extended family so I wouldn't be surprised if he's tied up through the holidays, but I'll give him a call and see if he can find some time to stop by Roddy's trailer and sort out what a repair list should look like."
"That would be excellent," Frank said. "And if there's anything I can do, please let me know. If nothing else, letters from lawyers have been known to encourage landlords to fulfill their obligations even without an actual filing."
"I will. Thanks."
"This is pointless," Roddy said, kicking at the dirt as Bud pulled his truck up next to Monroe's car. "What are we even doing here? It's just the stupid heater and an even stupider pipe, and I manage just fine."
Monroe was seriously starting to wish that he'd taken option two and not told Roddy about his plan of asking Bud to take a look around the trailer. He'd considered it, but Roddy was eighteen and an adult however technically, and this was his home. And not telling him would have meant either literally breaking in or searching his things for his keys without his permission, neither of which Monroe was in any way comfortable with. But Roddy was doing a better impression of a sullen teenager now than he ever had in Monroe's presence before, and maybe it was just the aftereffects of a week at his parents' place and all of the associated memories, but 'because I said so' was far closer to the tip of Monroe's tongue than he liked.
Bud stepped down out of his truck, smiling in greeting, and Monroe shook his head as Roddy dropped back behind him. "Hey, thanks for meeting us. I didn't mean to drag you away from your family right after Christmas, though, I was just hoping you might have some time in the next week or two."
"No, no, it's fine. Happy to help. My wife's family is in town. All of them. For two more days. Very happy to be here. Oh, hello again."
"Hey," Roddy muttered.
Monroe hadn't realized that they'd met, but Bud had already resumed speaking.
"You know, I don't know if I introduced myself the other day." He took another step forward and offered a hand. "Bud Wurstner."
Fortunately Roddy lifted his head and returned the handshake without Monroe having to figure out how to encourage him. "Roddy Geiger." A pause. "Did they like the tea?"
"They did, very much so, thank you." He looked around. "So, uh, what are we doing exactly?"
"This is Roddy's place," Monroe said as Roddy's scowl returned and he looked away again. "There are a few maintenance issues that his landlord is taking his time about, and since neither of us are experts when it comes to home stuff, I was hoping that you might be able to take a quick look around and see if there's anything else that should be on the repair list when he does send someone out."
"It's not a big deal," Roddy said. "I'm used to it."
"It's still his responsibility."
"And it's an easy thing to do," Bud added as Roddy muttered something that Monroe chose not to pay attention to under his breath. "Really. I don't officially do home inspections, but I'm good at all of that kind of stuff. And I told Phoebe I wouldn't be home for at least an hour anyway."
"Fine." Roddy didn't—quite—stomp up the steps, but Monroe didn't miss the creaking as they all reached the top platform, and Bud frowned and shook the rail lightly as Roddy fumbled with the lock to let them in. And once they were in….
"Well, I think that you might have a problem with your heater," Bud said.
Roddy flushed. "It just cuts out sometimes. I'll go kick it, it usually starts up again pretty easy."
"Do you mind if I go with you? I wasn't kidding when I said that I was good at this stuff. Maybe I can tell you why it keeps shutting off so your landlord can get it fixed once and for all."
Roddy shrugged and turned down the hall, and Monroe considered following them for a moment before changing direction and heading into the kitchen instead. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a torn sheet of paper taped to the faucet that just read 'NO,' and after a quick glance after Roddy and Bud, he peeked inside the fridge. Considering that Roddy hadn't been home in close to a week it was probably good that there wasn't much in it, but all the same he didn't like the state of things for a teenage boy. Especially since neither the freezer nor the pantry looked much better.
He moved back to the living room, frowning as he realized that several layers of newspaper had been taped across the back window behind the curtains, but before he could look more closely there was a squeal that made him wince, and then he heard air start to flow from the vents. And several dozen little feet scattering among the floorboards underneath him.
