“It sure is,” I marveled, equal parts excited and exhausted. It wasn’t unusual to be this packed on a Saturday night, but now that I owned a share of the restaurant rather than just worked here, it was a wonder to behold. Paying customers demanding more, a long line of patrons waiting to get in. Dollar signs and hearts clouded my ecstatic gaze.
Although I fought her tooth and nail, Denise split the money with me when she sold the house and moved to Florida. I hated the thought of her leaving—especially after I’d just gotten her back—but the distance didn’t hinder our bond. We spoke all the time and visited each other a couple of times per year. She needed to get away from the ghosts that held her back, and as I dealt with the same specters at times, I couldn’t say I blamed her.
Parking the money into a savings account, I refused to touch it for a few years. I was well paid at Blystone, moving up to chef after only a couple of years and didn’t need what I considered a consolation prize from my parents. I didn’t want their help then and I wouldn’t accept it now.
George was the sweetest restaurant owner I’d ever known, and in my previous life I’d met a slew. He was smart and kind and simply a good man, why all of his employees rallied to take on more when his health deteriorated. He’d let Aida manage most things for the past year, but when he called us both into his office a couple of months ago, I was sure it was to inform us he was closing. Instead, he offered to sell a piece of the restaurant to both Aida and me. He still wished to be a partner but was ready for retirement and over the day to day. I refused at first, as I believed Aida deserved a greater share, but he insisted, saying that no one cared more about the success of his baby than I did. I couldn’t disagree, and as of yesterday, I was a signed and sealed co-owner of a successful Manhattan restaurant.
To celebrate the first night of ownership, I was observing, not cooking for a change. Even though I took great joy in directing the kitchen, it was nice to sit back and watch patrons enjoy what I created. Josh and Brianna came to celebrate with us. Somehow—and against all odds—we became a happy, extended family. My daughter was growing up with an abundance of love and wouldn’t have the same issues her mother and her aunt still fought against. Even more than the restaurant, I considered that my greatest success—even if it entailed accepting help. Despite how my husband teased me, I was almost easy going these days.Almost.
“I’ll take a look outside. Be back in a minute.” I squeezed Aida’s arm and headed to the dining area.
Drew and Victoria were seated with Josh and Brianna in the large corner booth. Their son, Chris, had just turned two and fidgeted on Brianna’s lap as I approached.
“Hey, Mom, still need me to give out the menus?” My daughter offered as she slid out of the booth. She was itching for a job at the restaurant ever since I’d told her I was an owner, and for a couple of hours I let her hand out menus when guests were seated tonight. She was about to turn fifteen and was almost my height. Victoria looked much older than she was, and each time a male glanced for more than two seconds in her direction, Drew and Josh were ready to pounce. Brianna and I shared a ton of eye rolls as this poor girl had an uphill battle if she ever dared to bring a boy to either of her homes.
“I think the rush is over, but I’ll let you know. Thank you.” I brushed her thick caramel hair over her shoulder and kissed her forehead.
“Maybe I could do something else . . . you seem tired.”
I cocked my head as I soaked in my daughter’s concern.
“I’m fine. Everything is great and all under control.”
“Sure.” My husband scoffed as he came behind me and drifted his hand over my swollen belly. “Because you aren’t eight months pregnant or anything. Take a break, Kostas,” he scolded with a clenched jaw.
“I don’t need a break.” I held in a groan at my husband’s frequent hovering and forced a smile. “As I just said, I’m fine.”
“When was the last time you sat down? You’re the boss now, so why don’t you goof off for a little bit.” He nodded to his now vacant seat and nudged me onto the cushion.
I exhaled in defeat, hiding my wince from Drew. My feet were swollen and killing me. I didn’t remember tiny things taking so much effort when I was pregnant with Victoria. But I was much younger back then, and never took it easy because . . . I couldn’t. Drew opened his own company with Carlos and Brian a year ago and his hours were flexible. Lately, most of his hours involved loitering at one of our tables with his laptop, watching me like a hawk. I loved him from the deepest depths of my soul, but I would throat punch him soon if he didn’t stop treating me like a china doll about to fall and break.
“Excuse me.” One of my long-time customers came over to our table with his teenage son. Lucas was a business lunch regular but never came in with his children before. This young man shared the same piercing blue eyes and sandy brown hair. It was too much of an identical resemblance to not be Lucas’s kid. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sara. We haven’t gotten a menu yet, and this one is always hungry.” He laughed and motioned behind him where the handsome boy of, I guessed, sixteen or seventeen offered a sheepish smile—until he spotted Victoria over my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Lucas.” I rolled to a standing position and nodded to the front. “It’s a little busy but I apologize for the wait. I’ll pick them up for you.”
“I’ll get them!” my daughter offered before bolting out of the booth.
“Thank you,” the boy replied for his father before ambling toward Victoria with a wide grin. “I’m Joey. You are?”
“Fourteen!” Josh and Drew answered in unison with the same menacing glare.
“You don’t need my daughter’s name. Have a nice dinner,” Josh clipped as all the blood drained out of this poor kid’s face.
“Sorry,” I mouthed to Lucas who, thankfully, gave me a knowing smirk before heading back to his table.
Victoria huffed at her father before heading to the front to pick up the menus.
“I need to be scarier,” Drew lamented as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Josh has the whole ink thing going for him.” He nodded toward Josh, now trying to get Chris to sit still on his lap.
“The little guy has some, too,” Brianna laughed as she turned Chris’s arm over, showing multi-colored scribbles on his pudgy arms. “He wants to be just like Daddy. Washable markers, my ass.” Chris splayed his chubby hand on his mother’s cheek and shot her a heart-melting-toddler grin, reducing Brianna to nothing but a puddle on the seat.
Laughing at the frown on my husband’s face, I rubbed his shoulder. “Remember Aaron? When you picked me up on my last day at my internship, he almost pissed himself. You’ll be fine.” I kissed his cheek.
“Yeah, but . . .” He rubbed my belly with a frustrated sigh. “I need to be better. It’s hard having daughters knowing how boys likethat,” he tilted his head to Lucas’s son, stiff in his chair and most likely terrified to turn around, “think because you were the same kind of asshole.”
“Tell me about it,” Josh grumbled as he bounced his son on his knee.
“It’s a girl! I didn’t know you were finding out!” Brianna squealed with her hands folded.
