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Making a decision as a couple to buy his mom out of her restaurant was a far cry from Karl giving the money to Vivian while she was broke, pregnant and living at his mom’s house.
Susan nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t entirely understand what is keeping you and Karl apart, but he’s the father of that child and needs to own up to his responsibilities.”
An image of Karl, standing in his whimsical clock-and-watch-print boxers, trying to convince her to move back in with him because of his responsibilities flashed through Vivian’s head. “Don’t worry. He is.”
“I won’t do this with you on the shake of a hand. We’ll find a lawyer to draw up a contract with an out for you. You might decide Healthy Food and the old Poles who eat there aren’t your future, after all.”
“I might.” Anything was possible, after all. “And you might decide—” especially after meeting her father “—that you don’t want Healthy Food in my hands. Or maybe those old Poles don’t want me running their neighborhood restaurant.”
Bigger than Vivian’s concern over money was her fear that the neighborhood would never accept anyone as Healthy Food’s owner who wasn’t blood-Polish, even if she was married to Karl. Most everyone had been nice to her, but paying the Chinese wife for your dinner was one thing, knowing she was in charge of the Polish food coming out of the kitchen was another.
Susan rolled the bottom of her mug on the table as she appeared to consider Vivian’s concern. “Some of the customers will say you don’t understand the Polish community and they may say you don’t belong here every time you make a decision they disagree with. They do it to me, and I have a Polish maiden name. But my Polish ancestors came to this country before the Revolutionary War and so I don’t understand what it’s like to be really Polish. Staple of this community or not, I’m lucky if I’m an eighth Polish. It will be worse for you, and you’ll have to learn those people aren’t worth your time. Concentrate on the customers who aren’t blind fools.”
Vivian let that worry slide for right now. She had until Susan retired to win the community over. Susan was right that it wasn’t worth her time agonizing over it. She could nail down the tangibles of taking over Healthy Food and worry about the intangibles—such as discrimination—later.
Her mother-in-law smiled and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened. Softened. “If we are to do this, tell me what you know about running a restaurant.”
Susan probably wasn’t going to change her mind about the deal now, but Vivian was still nervous saying, “Nothing. I took a couple of hospitality classes at UNLV, but with nothing ahead of me except more dealing, I doubt I retained anything. I’m hoping to learn from you, before you retire.”
“If anything’s going to change your mind about this plan, learning what’s involved probably will. There’s nothing easy about owning and running a restaurant.”
“I never imagined there was.” But to be a part of this community, it would surely be worth it.
“And I won’t have you going into this like I did, learning the right thing to do because you made a mistake and it cost you. As much as I hated sending Tilly off to New York to learn what I thought she could learn at home, here at Healthy Food, that school taught her business planning and other small business basics. You should take courses at one of the colleges in Chicago.”
“I’ll do that.” Vivian’s shoulders relaxed. She stood, grabbed both of their mugs and filled them up with more milk for a second cup of hot chocolate. This called for a celebration, and hot chocolate was about as strong a drink as she could imbibe while pregnant.
Her sock slid a bit on the old linoleum of Susan’s floor, but the slips only added to Vivian’s feeling that she was walking on air—risky and glorious at the same time.
She poured some milk into her mug. Honestly, though, this didn’t feel that risky at all. This was what it felt like to have a parent looking out for you. Guiding you—not trying to stay one step ahead of the scammed masses with a child in tow.
