Part Four
Four Days later at Café Americana
Early to late evening
Weekday evenings at the Café Americana were busy affairs, Friday nights especially so. Most workers, particularly the young married professionals and conservative businessmen, frequented the restaurant for its relaxed, unpretentious atmosphere and comfort foods. After a long hectic week, it was a great place to signal the beginning of the weekend.
The restaurant hummed with the sounds of a dozen conversations, some boisterously letting off steam, while others were muted with the distinct undercurrent of tension. The clinking of glasses against dishes seemed to sway in time with the atmosphere. Displaying easy, practiced precision moves, busboys noiselessly whisked away debris from the previous diner’s meals, skillfully replacing dirty dishes and soiled linens with gleaming cutlery, china and fresh white napkins. The wait staff moved to and fro between calmly taking a patron’s order in the main dining room, to the planned hysteria of the kitchen. They returned minutes later, bearing metal trays heavily laden with choice dishes, the mouthwatering aromas tantalizing the senses of all who breathed them in.
Managing the scene like a general patiently guiding his troops was Mike Lane overseeing any and all situations - whether it be getting a high chair for a small child or making sure there were enough mints for departing guests and whatever else was needed.
Whatever else meant this particular evening was presenting samples for Lois and Clark’s wedding reception meal to the happy couple and their parents. Ensconced in a large horseshoe-shaped booth sat the Kent/Lane party - the two families were laughing and exchanging stories.
Mike studied the group thoughtfully. Clark wore a charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt and a burgundy paisley tie - a definite improvement over the loud neckwear the young man usually sported. A quiet smile tugged at Mike’s lips. His niece was wearing a black suit with a burgundy paisley scarf. He wondered if the tie and scarf were planned or a accident happy? Either way it was a sharp indication of how much his niece had changed. In the past if a guy had appeared on a date wearing a tie that matched her scarf she would have promptly ditched the scarf - and the guy.
Martha and Jonathan were a loving couple of long standing; he recognized and missed the sense of teamwork and friendship between himself and his late wife Rita. After all these years, the once crisp memories had softened to a pleasant glow, but he treasured them still.
His brother Sam had worked hard to put aside old differences with Ellen to make their daughter’s wedding and reception a successful event. So far, he was the picture of fatherly pride and happiness, even Ellen was on her best behavior. Considering her elaborate plans for an overblown, fancy wedding for her daughter had been dashed in favor of a quiet ceremony. They had both behaved like adults until this whole rehearsal dinner debacle! No matter what happened, Mike intended both meals to be a complete success – despite the bride’s parents!
“Daddy!” Lois exploded, “Don’t tell Clark *that* story, he’ll think the worst of me!”
“Princess,” Sam Lane said with a sly wink, “he might as well understand the *whole woman* and not just the reporter.” Turning to Clark, he began relating the tale of how Lois burned the kitchen curtains in her one and only attempt at making French toast. When the story reached its painful conclusion, Lois’ face had grown flush with embarrassment and mortification. Sensing his future daughter-in-law’s discomfort, Jonathan launched into an equally embarrassing tale about Clark, which the young man took in stride.
Ellen wanted to tell her own Lois story, but at that moment Mike appeared with another platter of food for them to taste. “Hey, enough embarrassing stories about the kids!” Mike said. “It’s time to sample the finger sandwiches, hors d'oeuvres, main dish and sides! Nunzio has been working in the kitchen all day whipping up his expression of the very best dishes for next week. Ha! The crowd at Arabella’s couldn’t make anything this good. I’ll bet Lex Luthor’s chef, Andre Fournier, couldn’t come close!”
The group savored the lavish samples and most were in agreement with the choices, except for Ellen. Apparently she felt that cucumber sandwiches with butter were too fattening. “After all, I’m thinking about the health of the guests. Look at Jonathan! The last thing he needs is extra calories!”
Martha had opened her mouth to say something when Clark, placing a restraining hand on his mother’s arm, hastily intervened. “Ellen, maybe a substitution can be made, perhaps cucumber and arugula sandwiches with goat cheese and Italian parsley instead of butter? This way it satisfies everyone.”
“Everyone except me,” Jonathan grumbled, nettled at the barb Ellen had tactlessly tossed his way. Although he had not known Jonathan very long, Mike knew the comment had hurt. The elder Kent was a product of his Midwestern upbringing. He had confided in him that Martha was the cook in their home and she always tried to make healthy, nutritious meals. It wasn’t her fault that he liked to sneak over to Maisie’s diner for helpings of her famous thick ham sandwiches and heavy desserts.
Mike was impressed at how deftly Clark had stepped in and smoothed over what could have been an uncomfortable situation. World travel and living in Metropolis had given Clark a sense of grace that his father as a Kansas farmer lacked. But for all the years he had known her, the utter thoughtlessness Ellen Lane sometime displayed was beyond him.
He figured now was a good time to step in before another word could be spoken. “Anybody want to try the rosemary biscuits?”
“Rosemary *biscuits*? Biscuits cannot be served with filet mignon and asparagus!” Ellen said in aghast.
“There is nothing wrong with biscuits and filet mignon. Besides, this is Martha’s recipe and Nunzio loves the idea,” Mike fired back, despite his earlier determination to remain calm.
Ellen responded quickly, “Nunzio is an excellent chef, but biscuits for my daughter’s wedding? Mike, how could you?”
Her former brother-in-law uttered a quick prayer, and then sat down next to her and said, “Easy, I made an executive caterer’s decision. Besides, the wedding cake *you* picked out is delicious! That’s your special contribution to the reception. So be happy!”
“Come on, Ellen, relax!” Sam said. “Mike’s doing a great job!”
Mike looked at his big brother and shook his head. “Nope! All the credit goes to Nunzio; I just provided the recipes.”
Happy applause ensued and requests for additional samples were heard. Lois leaned over to Clark and whispered so only he could hear. “At this rate, we’ll be too *full* to eat anything in Paris!”
“Well, by the time we get there Amandine should just be taking baguettes and croissants out of the oven,” Clark whispered back.
Mike’s face suddenly went still as Grace entered the restaurant wearing a stunning white pants suit. Not a few of the male patrons, including Jonathan and Sam, gazed in appreciation at the well-dressed woman as she moved serenely towards the booth. She came over and placed a gentle hand on Mike’s shoulder. In her other hand was a small green shopping bag with the stenciled logo ‘Rhapsody Knits’.
“Good evening, everyone,” she said to the table occupants. Then turned to Mike and said in a tone only meant for him, “Good evening Michael.”
“H…hello Grace. You look gorgeous!” Mike whispered as he stood. “What is the occasion?”
“Remember, my niece graduated from medical school. The Yuang family is out tonight celebrating. We are going to see ‘A Little Night Music’ in the theatre district.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful piece of theatre, I’m sure the entire family will enjoy it!” Martha said enthusiastically.
“Yes. We were about to leave when I remembered to give you your presents” So saying, with a gentle bow of her head, Grace presented the bag to a surprised Mike.
“Well!” Sam’s deep baritone could be heard at the next booth. “That’s a first; my brother is speechless!”
Mike felt happy butterflies flitting inside him as he took the bag. Inadequate words of thanks danced on his tongue, but Grace quickly spoke up.
“I wasn’t sure which suit you were wearing to the wedding, so I made four pairs of socks: navy blue, heather grey, black and chestnut brown.”
“Aw, Grace, this is too much. Thank you!” Now, fully recovered, Mike’s voice was firm and strong. The kindness and sentiment of the gift deeply touched him. He began to open the bag, but Grace laid her delicate hand on his work roughened one and said, “Please look at them later. I really should not have been so rude and disturbed this family gathering.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” Lois piped up. “In fact, if you weren’t going out with family we would ask you to join us. Right Uncle Mike?”
“Yeah! Uh, no! I mean...”
“What Mike means, Grace, is that you are a friend of his, so that makes you a friend of ours.” Jonathan spoke in his usual gentle, quiet tones, but the depth of meaning was clearly evident.
“Thank you, Mr. Kent! I see where Clark gets such excellent manners.” Grace responded her eyes sparkled with delight.
Just than Mike noticed a tall, impeccably dressed Asian gentleman in his early to late fifties enter the restaurant. The man’s expression seemed tight with anxiety as he intensely searched the faces of the patrons and then spotted Grace. With a fluidness of movement which belied his age, he quickly walked around the tables and past waiters until he reached their booth. For some bizarre reason Mike felt uneasy. Why was this man looking for Grace? More importantly, who was *he* to her? A friend? Perhaps even more than a friend? She did say the family was going to celebrate her niece’s graduation. Was this fellow - her date? Insidiously the uneasiness coiled into something small and ugly he had not felt since Rita was alive – jealousy.
The newcomer nodded acknowledgement to everyone in the booth and, turning to Grace, said, “There you are! All and sundry are waiting. Remember, the curtain goes up in forty-five minutes.”
“Ah yes, but please, let me introduce you! Everyone, this is Raymond Yuang, my older brother. It is his daughter’s brilliance and determination to become a doctor we honor this evening.”
Mike felt as if a solid steel vise had released his heart. He beamed a warm smile. “Brother? Your Grace’s brother? She has mentioned you on a few occasions.”
Raymond’s face relaxed a little and he spoke quickly. “Yes, I’m from San Francisco. My wife and I have been here in the past to visit our daughter. My sister has mentioned you as well, but unfortunately we have never crossed paths.”
Mike, now all smiles and congeniality, shook Raymond’s hand and said, “We need to correct that problem. Please come by for dinner tomorrow night and bring the family.”
“I am afraid that will not be possible. My family and I are flying to London tomorrow evening for a brief vacation. But perhaps on our return we can come for dinner?”
“Great! I look forward to it!” Mike answered.
Raymond said good-bye to everyone, turned to his sister, and escorted her outside.
Mike looked back at his guests, a lopsided grin on his face and jerking his thumb in the departing siblings’ direction. “Isn’t that great? He’s her brother.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” Sam answered deadpan.
“She seems like a perfectly charming person. Mike, who is she?” Ellen asked.
“Mother, that is Grace Chen. She owns the knit shop across the street. I told you about her. Clark wrote a piece on the shop last year.”
“You two write so many articles, how can *anyone* keep up? Still, if she made socks for Mike perhaps she can make a sweater for me? There’s this darling pattern…”
Martha very diplomatically interrupted and said, “Uh, I think the socks were made as a present. Grace is too busy to with her shop and other matters to knit a sweater for just anyone. Besides, aren’t we here to sample food for the reception?”
Ellen, outdone again by no less than a Kansas farm housewife, did something very rare - she held her tongue.
For the remainder of the evening the group eagerly went over plans for the wedding and reception. The main topic was arranging sufficient tables and chairs to accommodate forty people in the townhouse backyard. Once the arrangement for the tables was in place, the equally thorny problem of seating the guests came next. Fortunately this was all settled by the time they reached coffee and cake. It was at this point, Clark mentioned that he and Lois had plans and would be leaving soon.
“Why?” Jonathan asked, “What’s going on, son? Perry gave you two a assignment?”
“Yes!” Lois answered, grabbing for a credible excuse. “We are trying to write an article about a series of jewel robberies and we need to contact a source!”
“Right,” Clark added, touching his glasses. “I forgot to tell you about this meeting, Dad. Lois and I will be out late, so you and Mom can enjoy the rest of the evening. Don’t worry about waiting up for me at the townhouse; it’s going to be a long night.”
“Just one minute, young lady!” Ellen interjected. “I have not seen your wedding gown since it arrived from the seamstress. Lois, you and Clark will have *plenty* of time to lurk around seedy back alleys and cemeteries, but I really would like to see this gown - such an unusual design. I’m sure Martha would like to see it as well. This back alley person can wait. Lois, please gather up your things! Its late, but maybe the three of us can catch a cab outside.”
Lois looked pleadingly at her father, but received no assistance from that quarter. “Your Mother’s right, Princess. Besides, isn’t this all part of mother/daughter bonding while planning a wedding?”
Mike looked at her and shrugged, but at the moment he was assisting one of the waiters with a problem. This time Lois would have to affect her own escape from Ellen. He watched as she fought hard to be gracious. With an effort, Lois smiled sadly at her fiancé, whispered something in his ear and departed with her mother and Martha.
Sam said. “Nice dinner and food tasting, brother. As usual the selections was exceptional. Jonathan. Clark want to share a cab?”
“Well, son, care to come back with me to the house?”
“Yeah, Dad, I guess our ‘stake out plans’ have been put on hold,” Clark sighed, trying to hide his disappointment.
Jonathan Kent looked at his son, a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Don’t worry, son, there will be other days.”
Both men shook hands with Mike and thanked him for an excellent sample tasting. Joining Sam by the front doors, the three men exited the restaurant.
Last edited by Morgana; 05/29/21 07:14 AM.
