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Okay, he was coming in a little strong. I didn’t charge overly much for the food. But it cost money to rent the space, and I was providing exclusive meals. That amounted to extra cost. Besides, none of the guests had complained and Hunter was rich enough to afford a few bucks extra on his meal.
“Most meals on the menu are exclusive, Hunter.”
“I realize that, but you could get even more patrons. You’d make a lot of money by sticking more tables in, just saying.”
“Thanks, Hunter, I’ll consider that,” I replied, determined not to let him creep under my skin. “Hey Mark, you like the food?”
“Yeah, the seafood is great,” he replied.
At least someone approved, I thought, before leaving them to their meals. The grand opening would be soon and while Hunter’s opinions didn’t agree with mine, they might work for some of the patrons who visited. And that was exactly why I had invited him and the rest of the guests today, to test the waters.
Nat and I had made a suggestion box available; we’d see how many people complained about the passage, maybe I’d even be willing to change it if I got too many complaints but for now, I was going to avoid Hunter, I didn’t want my opening ruined.
The Apology
“Can we visit Becca, Dad?” Mark asked again.
“Not yet buddy,” I replied.
It was only morning, and Mark had already asked that question a million times. I couldn’t tell him we couldn’t visit because I had been an ass at her cafe opening, so I kept saying soon.
“When can we visit?” He asked, settling beside me on the couch. We were by the pool, sunning, while we waited for evening, so we could barbecue some steak. That was slowly winding up to be Mark’s favorite meal.
“Soon,” I replied again.
“Becca said I’m allowed to visit anytime I want,” Mark said boastfully, his voice proud, as though receiving an open invitation to Becca’s Cafe was the highlight of his life. Which, considering everything, it probably was.
“That she did, but we could go get ice cream at that place close by,” I said, offering ice cream in place of Becca.
“Then why don’t we go see Becca?” Mark said, looking up at me. I looked away. Because I was an idiot, and she was mad at me. As always.
“Because buddy, she’s going to be very busy with the cafe and you can’t distract her,” I replied.
“She wouldn’t mind,” Mark said, his voice confident. “I’m a cool boy, she said that.”
Okay. I was done with that conversation. I’d go over to her place and apologize later. Until then, Mark would just have to keep away from the cafe.
“How about we start the grill now?” I asked Mark, looking for how to distract him. “Or we could swim a little.”
“Dad, it’s too hot for the grill, and I’m tired of swimming,” he said, rolling his eyes like it should’ve been immediately obvious.
“Fine, we’ll just sit here then and be bored together,” I said, leaning away and then tickling him when he relaxed across the couch.
“Dad!” Mark screamed, his laugh bubbling out of him. I watched him laughing, my heart tripping in time to his laugh. He was the one price of Sarah’s love for me. His twinkling brown eyes were so like hers. Sarah had always hoped he would get my blue eyes, but she’d loved them just as much as I had.
Sarah had wasted away from cancer a year after he had been born. He didn’t remember much about her, his memories are vague, though sometimes they could bubble out of him clearly, shocking in their clarity as he described something they had done together.
I leaned in and gave him a little kiss on the forehead, it was up to me now to keep him happy and satisfied, and I was going to do it. Whatever it took. I would be interviewing nannies to stay with him later in the week. Also, school started soon, so there was that to be done.
I didn’t know anything about any of that, but I planned on making sure Mark got the very best of everything, the best of whatever he wanted. Money was not a hindrance after all.
“Uncle Steve said I get to start school soon, a real school.”
I smiled. A real school. Mark had attended kindergarten in New York but according to him, it wasn’t a real school, it was a play school. He’d apparently overheard it from some kid whose father had been arguing the topic with the mom.
“A real school yes, are you looking forward to it?” I asked, gazing at him intently.
“Will it be cool?” He asked. Cool was the highest anything could go in Mark’s estimation.
