“Yeah? You almost sound like you know what you’re talking about. Let’s hope so.”
She took his hands. “The Circle will embrace David’s, sweetie... just you wait.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She guided him to the bar where two glasses and an open bottle of Cabernet waited. They sat on newly unboxed stools. “You’ve been busy.”
“Not really. I wanted to get that one wall painted, so I could see the portrait on it. The rest was just deliveries I had scheduled for this afternoon—tables, chairs, barstools, linens, glasses,and wine.”
“I see that. Very good. Things seem to be going well.”
George said nothing. His eyes were bloodshot and May wondered if he had been crying or if he was about to. Turned out to be the latter.
“Oh, honey. Are you OK? Come here.”
She hugged him.
George smiled through the tears, reaching for the open bottle and pouring them both a hefty glass. “Yeah. You know, it just never ends. It’s been over two years and, just when you think you’re past it, all it takes is a picture like that to send me reeling.”
“He would have loved this. He would have been thrilled that you’re doing it—finally chasing your dream. I mean, if it weren’t for him, I’d have never done the same. Ruff Stuff wouldn’t exist.”
“Yeah, too bad he had to die for me to afford it.”
Silence came. It was a harsh statement, and neither had anything to follow it up with. They both drank from their glasses.
After what seemed an eternity, May broke the silence. “Listen here, mister, I know you loved him. I loved him too. But he’ll always be with us, in our hearts... and the restaurant is a means for him to live on—through you.”
“The poetry is sweet, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.”
“Yeah... grief sucks. And I could lay a million more clichés on you—lemons to lemonade, flowers from dirt, circle-of-life—but you don’t need that bullshit. It’s trite. Honor him via what you love—food. Make this place the perfect shrine to him... incelebration, not mourning. It’s what he would have wanted. You know that.”
“I’m thinking the name is too much.”
“No,” said May, pouring more wine into his glass. “It’s perfect.”
“Who names a business a proper name?”
“Annie’s.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Two blocks away, smarty. And they’ve been in business for what, fifty years?”
“Closer to seventy.”
“See.”
She capitalized on the shift in conversation further: “So, how’s the staff coming?”
“Well, I’ve got a great sous chef that I’m stealing from Filomena’s. His name’s Zac. Cute kid. Young, and hungry to impress the world.”
“That’s great. New blood. We need fresh faces in our lives.”
“Yeah, speaking of which. I met Mikey. He’s quite a character.”
“I love Mikey. He’s always been a sweetheart to me.”
“Yeah. I get that. He kinda hit on me.”
“You could do worse.”
“I know. I’m just not there, May. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
