"No wonder he never learned," Staas said with a smile. "He never had to, with all the friendly delis and sh--places." Staas had often cooked for both himself and his mother. She had worked two jobs most of the time, and with little money in the house, it was learn to cook or go hungry. Or occasionally eat at Carey's, if his parents were out. Or the boys felt like deliberately baiting them with Staas' mere presence.
He smiled at Ori, waving away the thanks. "Are you kidding? For the cost of a few meals I get an awesome babysitter at my beck and call. Trust me, I'm getting the better end of the deal."
He took a sip of his wine and then tilted the glass in Ori's direction. "Send my regards back, if you please. I'd love to meet him too." He knew the longer it was, the less likely the elder Mr. Bosko was to visit. He'd been told of the older man's ills, and could understand why a visit might be daunting. "If he doesn't make it out here, Ira, you'll have to take a few days off and go home for yourself." He would suggest going as well, to get some of that nasty borscht Ira had promised him, but there was no way he could take extended time off from the restaurant any time soon.