The stoup is so good, and we’re both so hungry that we eat in silence for a few moments. Finally, I stop, take another sip of wine and admire my son. “I should hire you,” I say with a laugh.

Evan polishes off his stoup, rises to fill his bowl again, and when he returns, he looks at me and says, “Why haven’t you asked for my help with any of this, Mom?”

The tone of his voice—almost wounded—takes me by surprise.

“You’re in school,” I say. “You’re so busy and I’ve been overwhelmed. The divorce, leaving my job, selling Lake Forest, moving here.” Evan’s eyes are on his soup bowl. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It was never my intention. I just never imagined asking you to help.”

Evan sets down his spoon and takes a big drink of water. “I’m a business major, Mom,” he says. “I know I’m just a college kid, but I’ve taken accounting, marketing, management, entrepreneurial finance...” He stops. “I mean, I kind of want to be like you when I grow up. I want to run my own business, do my own thing.” He looks at me, and his voice warbles a bit. “You’re kind of kick-ass...you know, for a milleni-mom.”

I can feel my eyes water. “Oh, Evan,” I say. “That means the world. Honestly, it never crossed my mind to bother you with all that’s going on in my life now. But, I’d love to go over my plans with you...my website, the renovation, my budget forecast. Trish was just here, and she helped me see things I never considered.” I stop. “It’s hard not to see you as my little boy.”

Evan smiles. “I’ll always be your little boy, Mom,” he says.

“Okay, then,” I say as I stand. I put my bowl in the dishwasher, refresh my wine and turn to Evan. “Where do you want to start?”

“Everywhere,” he says. “Your entire business plan, including financials and forecasts. And I’d love to hear your marketing strategy, since that’s what you did for a living—where and when you’ll be advertising, and how much that will cost, especially since you don’t have an existing customer base.”

I take a deep breath and fill my wineglass even more.

Evan laughs. “I have some tough professors,” he says. “They always say, ‘There’s nothing to be scared of if you’re prepared for everything.’” Evan stands and looks at me. “So, let’s prepare for everything.”

I take a sip of wine. “Then let me start with the Dragoon Lady,” I say.

“She’s still alive?” Evan asks, a look of shock overtaking his face.

“And kicking,” I say. “Mostly me. In the butt.”

Evan laughs. “Grandma never liked her, did she?”