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“So, tell me, was the cake a success?” she asked in a kinder tone.
“Yes.” Kyle cuddled Button against his chest, sniffing her hair, which smelled faintly floral. “Grace appreciated it very much.”
Amelia adjusted her needles thoughtfully. “I remember the girl quite clearly, tagging along after you at the bistro. Bubbly, pretty. Curly reddish brown hair. Full of cheer and questions. Seemed crazy about you.”
She did? Kyle’s heavy black brows jumped.
Amelia didn’t acknowledge his reaction, if she noticed. “I never had much contact with the parents though. They came into the bistro a few times to get their son, Michael, gift certificates or to pick up the girl. Struck me as the cold fish type.”
“They are restrained,” Kyle admitted. He was deliberately careful in his wording. Victor and Ingrid had never treated him badly, but he had a sense that he didn’t quite make their grade. It was a vague feeling that didn’t warrant his resentment. Resentment took energy and he’d learned to reserve it only for extreme cases.
Her forehead furrowed as she inspected her stitching. “Don’t get me wrong about the Norths. I’m sure they’re decent. But you’d best keep in mind that the rich are different. Many of them have never felt the raw panic of facing mounting bills. It sets people apart, the yearning for more.”
The advice never stopped flowing. But he did have some recourse here, which he used gently. “We can be grateful to Michael for funding my payment to you,” he said. “He’ll be a good partner, as he’s far more interested in his father’s accounting firm and won’t be bossing us around. And working for Grace will allow me more time with Button and some extra cash. Just so you know, we’re set up for Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”
Amelia stuffed her knitting in the canvas bag beside her chair and released the footrest on her chair. “I generally do have activities to fill some of those days. How will you manage? Perhaps I should cancel—”
“You shouldn’t,” he said adamantly, touched by her distress. “Our general deal is that you watch Button evenings and weekends, while I’m busy at the bistro. The weekdays are all yours, to follow your own schedule, no matter what.”
“I don’t expect that, and you shouldn’t guarantee it.”
He chuckled, gazing upon the bundle in his arms. “Guess you’re right.”
Button stirred in his arms then. Focusing on Kyle, she threw her arms around him. “You come back.”
“I always come back, honey.”
She pressed her soft little nose against his. “No heaven, Daddy.”
“Now, Button,” Amelia reasoned succinctly, “your father is not going to heaven any day soon. He was delivering a cake. You know that.”
Kyle squeezed her tight, exchanging a concerned look with Amelia. Button had been so insecure since Libby’s death, afraid she’d lose him to heaven too. “You did a good job on the cake, baby. Grace loved it.”
She set her chin stubbornly. “How’s Kitty?”
“Kitty was sound asleep, just like you should be.”
“My kitty,” she whispered fiercely.
“No, Button. You can visit Kitty, but she belongs to Grace.”
With pouty lips she crashed against Kyle’s shoulder and fell back asleep. He expelled a lung full of air. “That went well.”
Amelia regarded him sympathetically. “Lighten up. Isn’t your fault you got dealt this bad deck. Most fathers can slip away a few hours and not be concerned that their three-year-old will write them off as dead. It’s no one’s fault. We’re just left with…a situation. One we can surely handle.”
Kyle tried to appear convinced.
Chapter Four
Michael North was backing his dark green Porsche out of the garage the following morning, when Grace’s adjoining garage door began to rise. Quite an unusual sight so early on a Saturday. Unable to resist confronting her, he braked on their mutual driveway and shut off his engine.
He ambled into the garage to discover her standing by the driver’s door of her silver BMW. Dressed in aqua capris and a matching striped cropped top, a tote bag and melon work smock in her arms, she definitely had plans.
“So it is you.”
Startled, she asked, “Who else?”
“I don’t know, thought maybe the opener mechanism short-circuited.”
“Ha-ha.”
He chuckled. “Admit it, you normally don’t see the a.m. side of Saturday very often.”
“Oh. Well, I have several errands to take care of. Need an early start.”
“Kyle on your list?”
“Huh?”
“I saw his Jeep parked here last night.”
Grace moved closer to the open door blinking sheepishly in the sunshine. “You saw that?”
“I did. After all your whining about him at the party, you turn right around and throw out the welcome mat.”
She smiled dreamily. “Had an unexpected change of heart. He brought me the nicest cake! Made it himself…”
“Like you deserved it, telling Dad about my investing in the bistro.”
“I might regret that little admission. But you gave me such a hard time yesterday. Back with Kyle and you’re a team, playing the same old tricks, treating me like a kid.”
He had the grace to look guilty. “Sorry.”
“And Father was bound to find out soon enough.” She patted the shoulder of his suit jacket. “Just don’t let him bully you out of the deal.”
“Don’t worry. I’m hyped about the project. It’s so different from the sedate work at the firm. I am looking forward to the change.”
“I like the way you’ve decided to buck the North system a bit, chasing a separate dream without Father’s stamp of preapproval.”
Her ruthless assessment irritated him. “You only hope I’ll take some of the heat off your stunts.”
“Of course!” She glanced at her watch. “Now I really—”
“What can you possibly be doing for Kyle? He need a baby-sitter?”
“No!” She looked a bit terrified. “Button can barely stand me.”
“Oh, you gotta give her a chance. She was shy with me at first, but it got better. Now we’re buddies.”
“No, I’m working in safer territory. Kyle needs wallpaper advice, so I’ve agreed to bring some sample books round to the bistro.”
“Is he stripping paper today?” Michael demanded in surprise.
She reared. “Sounded like it.”
Michael slammed a fist into his palm. “Damn, he’s proud. He knows I want to help him with those jobs, yet he keeps me in the dark.”
“I imagine he wants to make it look its best, to impress you.”
“But I don’t need—”
Grace’s cell phone rang in her tote. “Hang on here.” She dug around for the slim folded instrument. “Hello, Dickie. I was going to call you. Yes, I’m still on for tennis, but don’t come for me early. I’m off to pick out some wallpaper for the bistro and need time. Yes, things are moving along. Michael?” She eyed her brother. “We’re talking right now. My opinion? About what?” As she listened, Michael began to wave his arms in protest. “I’m a bit surprised, Dickie—I’ll discuss it with him. See you about four.”
She disconnected the line and dropped the phone back in her tote bag. “Dickie wants to be an investor in Amelia’s Bistro?”
Michael made a boyish face of discontent. “Said so last night after you dropped the bomb about my investing.”
“Seems strange.”
“It did until I thought it through. The odd kid out makes good as an adult and now wants to show off, be a part of what he missed.”
“Oh. Suppose that does make sense. His voice did a crack a little when we were discussing the past after my party. People really called him Mr. Pock? Can’t remember that myself.”
“I remember. But aside from the family get-togethers, I had little to do with him. Mostly because he was younger than my friends.”
“And older than mine.”
“In any case, I was not responsible for any name-calling.”
“Of course not. We never watched Star Trek in the first place, so wouldn’t have quite understood the name.”
“Bottom line, Gracie, he’s not welcome in this venture. I’d tell anyone the same. Kyle is battling with his pride as it is, accepting iron Amelia’s assistance. He wants to accomplish something for himself. The last thing he’s trolling for is another investor of any kind.”
“Too many cooks spoil the broth?”
“Something like that.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem to just tell Dickie no.”
“Really? Haven’t you noticed he is getting pushier and pushier, niggling his way into our family from all angles? It’s so bad, I’ve been taking a back seat whenever that guy’s around.”
Suddenly it occurred to Grace that as the only son, maybe Michael felt threatened by Victor and Ingrid’s interest in another male.
“How much do you like this guy anyway?” he asked guardedly.
“I don’t know yet. But in Dickie’s defense, it isn’t his fault the folks are chasing him.”
“Well, I hope you’re not dating him just to please the folks.”
She hesitated. “That bonus has been nice, after all the men they have disapproved of.”
“Fine. Just be careful.”
First advice on her crush on Kyle, now this lecture about the dangers of Dickie. Grace wasn’t about to take any of it to heart. After all, Michael was pushing thirty, still single—and in her private estimation, lonely. Despite his autocratic hand with her, however, she hated to see him blue.
“Hey, it just occurs to me that Father must have been really torn, approving of Dickie’s every move, but disapproving of any investment in Kyle’s venture. That must’ve have been a fun struggle of hypocrisy to watch.”
Michael grinned widely now. “That was the only comic moment of the night. Dickie’s wild interest in the bistro took Father completely off guard. He never really did recover, just did some gruff mumbling and then bailed to make some suspect phone call. I think he went off to scream into a pillow.”
“See, every cloud has a silver lining.” She cuffed his chin. “Now I have to get moving.”
Michael gave his watch a startled glance. “Me, too, if I’m going to drop by the bistro first. Seems the perfect chance to barge in on the nuts and bolts of things.”
“Won’t Father be expecting you at the office pronto?”
“He’s not even going himself today.” With that he stalked to his car.
“I’ll meet you at the bistro, with wallpaper samples.” Grace watched him roar off, feeling smug. This new rebel side to him was a very good sign indeed.
“MIKE?” KYLE WAS startled as a slice of bright morning sunshine illuminated a figure in the doorway of Amelia’s Bistro. “Is that you?”
“Only me.”
Michael North let go of the heavy steel door and it slid shut with a thump. There was a cool hollow feeling to the place now, nothing like the Andersons’ glory days of the eighties and nineties.
Had he jumped the gun, agreeing to invest in this place sight unseen? No, he wouldn’t have done it differently. He had faith in Kyle and this had always been a sound building, a good location in reference to downtown Minneapolis and the University of Minnesota campus.
Faith. It was probably the most precious and most lacking commodity in Kyle’s checkered life. If Michael could change that with money, he’d gladly do so. But he did want entrée to the behind-the-scenes action.
Michael leveled a finger at the ladder and professional steamer near the kitchen door. “Grace tells me you’re stripping paper today…”
“Yeah, hoped to get things in the works before I exposed you to the nitty-gritty.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’m in. We have a deal.”
The men closed the space between them. Michael’s heels echoed sharply on the cracked tile flooring, Kyle’s were more of a rubber-soled slap. Their shoes represented their general level of dress. Kyle was no frills in a gray sweat suit and athletic shoes. Michael was casual but smart in his khaki slacks and green plaid shirt and loafers.
“Nostalgic trip, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.” Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and took in the scenery. The wooden L-shaped bar, the booths lining the walls, the round tables and bamboo chairs scattered about. There were a few familiar prints hanging on the red-flocked wallpaper and an old gold clock about to strike noon. “Lots of fine memories here.”
Kyle followed his old friend’s fond gaze, and wondered if they were sharing some of the same flashbacks. “It was the perfect hangout. The close friendships, all the laughs you could handle.”
“Not to mention the food! Especially Andy Anderson’s huge roast beef sandwiches with the special sauce, those fried appetizers Amelia whipped up herself. And there were the imported beers Andy kept discovering, putting on special for a whole month. The college kids must’ve made a lot of his business back then. They brought their homework here and their card games. Watched basketball and football on the TV over the bar.”
They stared up at the empty shelf that once held Andy’s old nineteen-inch television. “I used to kid him about being his headhunter on campus. Giving me an extra commission above my salary.”
“You did end up with his greatest asset,” Michael blurted out. Watching Kyle’s face fall, he said, “Sorry. It must be painful to talk about Libby, especially here, where it all began.”
“It’s okay.” Kyle rubbed his temple, his smile only faintly strained. “Old Andy was a pretty good guy, all right. But he sure liked me a lot better when I was only his ace bartender and chef, not a rival for Libby’s heart.”
Michael hesitated. “Are those hard feelings what kept you from showing up for Andy’s funeral?”
“Hell, no! We didn’t know about his death,” Kyle quickly assured. “An old friend’s letter caught up with Libby too late. We’d moved a lot over the years and mail had a way of getting lost. Anyway, it was two months afterward. It was Libby’s call on what to do. She assured me she sent Amelia a nice sympathy card, explaining that we hadn’t known, but we were very sorry, in spite of our differences.” Kyle shifted his stance, averting his friend’s steady gaze. “But now I doubt she ever sent a thing. I’ve tried to fish to Amelia, but so far, have come up empty.”
“I remember Libby as a headstrong girl.”
“To a fault.” Then, feeling a rush of compassion for his late wife, Kyle added, “Deep inside she was confused, loving and resenting the Andersons all at once.”
“Must’ve been hard for the Andersons, too,” Michael mused, “thrust back into parenting after their son died. I don’t think it was all that personal to you, Kyle. Libby was pretty young yet and it was probably impossible for them to imagine her leaving the nest.”
Kyle laughed shortly. “Having Button has introduced me to many of their protective feelings.”
“I suppose so.” Michael smiled awkwardly. “That’s one area in which I am helpless.”
“Too bad Libby didn’t live to see how Amelia’s mellowed. It takes effort, but she is so patient with Button and me, believe it or not.”
“It has to be awkward though, with your history,” Michael wagered.
“At times. But hey, a drowning man doesn’t inspect his life preserver for a brand label. If it floats, it’s valuable. This new life with Amelia floats.”
Michael sensed a defensiveness in Kyle’s message. He stared down at his loafers, gleaming against the dull flooring. “I’m probably not handling this very well. I don’t mean to pry into your affairs. Go ahead and tell me to butt out if you want.”
“Forget about it.” Kyle clapped him on the back. “You’ve been wonderful. Picked up right where we left off. Not every guy would do that, after the way I bailed out.”
“Not every guy pushing thirty is still a bachelor with time on his hands,” Michael pointed out honestly. “Your friendship is a big deal to me, too. The older I get, the tougher it is to find good friends.” He sighed. “Just believe that I want to be here for you. Like it used to be. And with time, you’ll see more opportunities to charge up old friendships. Lots of the guys are still around. They’ve fallen into routines, lost hair, added a few pounds. But they’re still the guys, at least when their wives let them out.”
“With that attitude, no wonder you’re still single!”
Wincing, Michael shifted the subject. “So, you think you can reopen in early August?”
“We should be able to do that,” he promptly corrected. “As I told you, there isn’t anything that needs a major overhaul. Aside from some plumbing problems in the kitchen, the main weakness is the decor. The restaurant business is so trendy, competitive. This place needed to change with the times and it hasn’t.”
“It had fallen out of favor in general—before Andy’s death,” Michael admitted. “It’s considered a bit too old world for the college kids, too dark and stuffy for business lunches.”
Kyle brightened up. “Once we fix it up, it’ll appeal to everyone. But mainly our peers, who are on their way, have a little money to spend and want some elegance for it.”
Michael beamed. “Perfect.”
Kyle picked up a clipboard off the bar. “Amelia and I have been here a few times, brainstorming. I’ve made notes.” He showed them to Michael.
“Toss rickety bamboo stuff,” Michael read, running a finger down the list. “Replace flooring. Sand down bar, apply lighter varnish. Polish brass bar rail. Brighten up lighting.” He looked up. “Gee I hope you aren’t planning to light this place too much.”
“I intend to make that possible, but dimmer switches will provide the necessary control.”
“Good idea.” His finger slid to the end of the list. “So today we strip.”
“We?” Kyle set the clipboard back on the bar and moved around to switch on every light.
Michael rubbed his hands together. “Remember the improvements we made on our old apartment. It’ll be just like old times if I stick around and help.”
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