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“I was helping until that damn seagull showed up.” He muttered in Italian, and if he’d spoken louder, Enzo would have understood him. While Enzo couldn’t speak the language fluently, he’d been around his grandfather most of his life to pick up enough of the language to get by. He definitely knew all the curse words.
“Let Chris handle it,” Enzo said. “You can help me out here.”
Enzo guided Vinny to his stool and waited for him to be situated without acting as if Enzo was there to help him if he needed it. Enzo didn’t need him falling off of a stool and breaking a hip. The man was stubborn, and an injury would only enhance that stubbornness.
Enzo readied the bar and, despite the time, poured his grandfather a little glass of limoncello to sip on. Vinny took the glass without argument and rested his arms on the bar. “Sometimes I think Diavolo is your grandmother.”
‘What?” Enzo exclaimed. His grandmother had passed away a few years ago, and his grandfather had never really been the same. His smile never seemed to reach his eyes, and there was always a slight sadness that would go undetected to those who didn’t know him that well, but Enzo could see it.
But to think a seagull was his dead wife was beyond anything Enzo had ever heard, and he’d heard a lot of strange things in his thirty-one years.
“You hate that seagull, and you loved grandma with every ounce of your being.” Not to mention they’d been referring to Diavolo as a male for as long as he’d been coming around.
“I did.” He took a sip of limoncello. “More than anything or anyone, but she was also a pain in my butt and kept me on my toes.”
“So that’s why you think Diavolo is grandma reincarnated?”
He shrugged. “The damn thing showed up shortly after she passed and has been driving me crazy ever since.”
While Enzo wanted to believe there was life after death, he didn’t want to think his beloved grandmother lived her entire life only to die and become a hotdog bun stealing seagull. Enzo rested his hand on his grandfather’s. His hand that once seemed so big to Enzo now appeared small and worn down by years of hard work.
“I know you miss her,” Enzo said.
He nodded. “Every day.”
“Me too.” Grandma was the backbone of the family. She’d helped hold everyone together after Mom died and Dad went to jail. Losing her was hard, possibly even harder than losing his mom, because he didn’t have her there to comfort him.
After she passed, Enzo felt this responsibility to step in and take care of the family. Everyone had stepped up; Ella left college and came home, even though Enzo insisted she shouldn’t. But Enzo had felt the weight on his shoulders, and that weight had been with him ever since.
“I think she’s still with us,” Enzo said. “But I don’t think she’s the seagull.”
“I know. I was talking crazy. I just don’t understand why that bird comes back every single day.”
“He’s hungry.”
“He’s stolen enough buns to feed him and an entire army of birds. He ain’t hungry. He’s greedy! He’s going to put me in the poor house.”
Since Enzo was the one who did the books, he knew damn well that a few missing packs of buns would not affect their bottom line. They’d been posting in the green as far back as the books went. Diavolo could steal an entire shipment of buns and they would still be okay.
“I know!” Vinny’s hand flung in the air. “I’ll build a trap.”
Oh boy. “And what are you going to do when you catch him?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Maybe drive him to the next town over and drop him off at someone else’s restaurant.”
“I think that’s a terrible idea.”
“I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.”
Enzo’d had though. He told Chris and the rest of the staff to keep the buns in the pantry until they were to be used. He put a screen door in, but for whatever reason, they kept opening the door anyway. He even went as far as to put an owl decoy up in hopes that it would scare Diavolo off. Diavolo showed what he thought of that idea by shitting on it.
“I’ll get back to you,” Enzo said. “Either way, we’ll figure it out.”
Enzo glanced at the time and realized it was much later than he expected. He opened the door and put the drink specials board out front. It was a great way to get people in. After a drink or two, their appetite would kick in and they’d order a lobster roll, too, and the more lobster rolls they sold, the better. Keeping the business in the green was Enzo’s biggest priority.
Back behind the bar, Enzo stocked the glasses and filled the condiment caddy with sliced limes and lemons, maraschino cherries, and olives.
The first customers came to the door, and before Enzo could welcome them, Vinny slid off his barstool and met them at the door. Vinny greeted them with an oversized smile, and Enzo watched his grandfather in his element, because when he was around customers, the sadness in his eyes vanished, and the man Enzo had known his whole existence came back to life. The old man spoke and made the customers laugh as he motioned toward the tables inside and the ones outside to get their opinion.
