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“I may only be learning about cribbage, but I’m right about my son.”
The lure of a stable family was too enticing, especially when she knew it couldn’t happen. Her past and Karl’s stringency was too big a wall standing in the way of a happy-family future. “Did I tell you that the Biadalas came into Healthy Food on Monday?”
Susan raised an eyebrow, but allowed the change in subject. “What’s Sharon’s latest diet?”
Happy not to be thinking about Karl, and a baby and a future that wasn’t going to turn out the way she wanted—as if futures ever did—Vivian shared the latest restaurant gossip with Susan until they’d finished their game and it was time to go to bed.
* * *
HEALTHY FOOD’S NEON Open sign blazed through the dark winter night as Karl walked up to the door and inside, expecting to shake hands with various people—as happened every time he entered his mother’s restaurant. Not a soul greeted him, but there was a crowd of people surrounding Vivian and his mother at the cash register. Father Ramirez and Mrs. Czaja were welcoming his mom back to work, but the other customers hovered around Vivian. Mr. Czaja even appeared to be flirting with Karl’s wife.
Not that he blamed the man. Amidst the crowd of Poles, Vivian was noticeable—and not just because she wasn’t Polish. Her entire body buzzed with joy, and her face glowed. And then there was her outfit. He’d been trying to get his mother to change the Healthy Food uniforms for years and Vivian wearing one gave him more ammunition against the ridiculous things. On most of his mother’s waitresses, the flowered, puffy, butt-skimming skirts, green T-shirts and black half aprons looked absurd. On Vivian, the teenybopper uniform made her look a plaid pattern away from a woman dressing up for her lover’s Catholic schoolgirl fantasy.
No wonder Mr. Czaja was flirting with her, even with his wife standing four feet away. The true astonishment was that Karl didn’t have to peel more men away from his wife to approach the register.
“Karl,” Vivian said with a wide smile that brought a bit of pink to her apple cheeks. “It’s your mom’s first day back at work.” She pushed a plate across the counter to him. “She made these tasty doughnuts for the occasion.”
“P?czki.” He bit into one of the Polish doughnuts traditionally eaten before Ash Wednesday, hoping it was filled with plum and not with rose hip jam. Bright sweetness and rich, eggy bread flooded his mouth. Strawberry filling. Not his favorite, but a pleasant surprise. “Enjoy the treat. Tomorrow Healthy Food will serve nothing but herring and potatoes.”
“There are powidla p?czki in the back for you to take home. And some for the office, as well,” his mom said from behind him. “I was going to ask your wife to drive them up to you.” Turning to Vivian, she said, “The powidla—plum ones—are his favorite.”
“Welcome back to work, Mom.” He wrapped his arms around his mother, who smiled up at him. He felt such relief at seeing her pink face. And the power behind the hug she gave him actually caused him physical pain, but the hurt was welcome. He was so happy to see her looking healthy that he was willing to overlook her machinations.
“It’s good to be back. I missed all the hustle and bustle.”
“You’re not tiring yourself out, are you?” She looked so much better than when he’d first seen her after her heart attack, but the thought of being an orphan still caused heart-seizing panic.
“No. I’m only working half days for a week or so. Then I’ll be back to my regular schedule.”
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” As he followed her to the kitchen doors, he noted the certainty of each step she took and kept his eye out for any hesitation in her walk or weakness when she pushed through the swinging doors. His mother looked nothing but robust. Was it hope or health he was seeing?
She shoved the sack of frozen doughnuts she’d grabbed from right inside the kitchen door into his hands. “Vivian has been a big help. After your grandmother died, I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else sitting in her place at the register, so I didn’t replace her. I should have. Managing the restaurant and the kitchen, working the register and hosting—it all got to be too much. It’ll be better now.”
