Part Nine
Early Morning – Late Evening – Café Americana
As per his habit Mike Lane stood just outside the door of Café Americana, watching regular early morning customers faithfully order their usual breakfasts. Of course, he had another motive for his sentry duty, but the lady in question had not yet arrived. It had been a few days, and he was curious to know how the graduation celebration had gone. Suddenly he saw her coming up the street, moving with her usual purposeful stride, looking absolutely lovely wearing a light peach colored dress. She had been to the florist; her large canvas shopping bag held a bouquet of stargazer lilies surrounded by sprigs of baby’s breath, their fragrant scent carried on the wind to his appreciative nose.
Grace came up to him smiling. “Good morning Michael!”
“The same to you, Grace. It’s been a few days since I last saw you. How did ‘A Little Night Music’ turn out?”
Her eyes lit up with the memory of the evening. “Oh! It was as everyone said: ‘powerful, moving and yet very entertaining’.” My niece thought it was a great graduation gift. It’s a pity the visit could not last a few days longer. They wanted to be in London to catch an Egyptian exhibit at the British museum. It is the second half of their vacation before Lisa begins working.”
“Well, I have no doubt they’ll have a great time. Tell Raymond they have a standing invitation at the Café Americana for dinner.”
“I will do that, kind sir. Is my regular breakfast order ready?” Grace asked.
Mike shook his head. “No, not yet. For some strange, but happy for the restaurant, reason, it’s unusually crowded this morning. Hey, my guys are fast, but not that fast!”
Grace smiled in acknowledgement, “Very well, I can wait.”
“Great. So,” Mike asked hesitantly, “what plans do you have for the evening?”
“Uh…nothing really. I’m meeting a friend – well, actually he’s a business acquaintance of Raymond’s - for drinks at La Cira.”
Mike suddenly felt as if his heart was going to drop and his mood change from contentment to disappointment. “Drinks… at La Cira? Tonight?”
Yes, Sidney Finch will be in town for a few weeks and Raymond wanted me to look after him – show off the sights of our grand city.” Mike studied her face closely and could see she genuinely meant to play tour guide to this newcomer to Metropolis. Still, he could not help but feel that the man was invading his territory – spending time with *his* lady. He was so deep in thought he failed to hear her next words.
“Oh, what were you saying?” he asked.
“I said, ‘Why not come with us’? It will be grand fun! As a lifelong Metropolis resident, you could probably provide a much better tour and better stories too!” Grace’s eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Oh no, no. Three’s a crowd,” he responded gruffly.
Grace looked at him. A puzzled expression marred her face. “Is it? I did not think spending time with each other and another person constituted a crowd.”
Just then Ryan, who had been standing a few feet away, came over to Mike, explaining there was a problem at one of the tables.
“Uh, I have to go, Grace. Enjoy your dinner. I mean your smoothie, ah, yeah. Listen, have a great day.” With those words he bounded off.
Ryan unfortunately was a hapless spectator to the brusque latter part of the exchange between the two friends. He witnessed the confused expression on Grace’s face and the disappointment and hurt on his employer’s. The younger man wanted to say something encouraging to Grace, but decided instead to continue his duties and keep the matter to himself.
***
Mike Lane went through the entire day being utterly unlike the friendly, easygoing man his staff knew and loved. He barked at the waiters, spoke in a surly manner to suppliers, and accidently disconnected one long-time patron while making reservations. The final straw came during the dinner rush; he thought one of Nunzio’s assistants was not moving fast enough on a particular order. Mike decided to create the dish himself. Unfortunately, his mind drifted to Grace, wondering if she was having a pleasant time with her brother’s ‘business associate’. He was called away for a moment and the dish was completely forgotten. When it emerged from the oven it matched his temper - burnt to a crisp.
Thankfully Nunzio was such an expert chef; he was able to recreate the dish in record time.
The situation had gotten so bad, Ryan had mentioned to Zachary and Karen that one of them *had* to talk with Mike and let him know his behavior was ruining the harmonious work environment of the restaurant and annoying his employees.
Ryan was completely unaware that Mike was in the cloakroom and had overheard his conversation. The café owner felt very ashamed, realizing he was taking his worry and disappointment out on everyone. After all, Grace had the right to date and have drinks with anyone she chose. His staff, one and all, were hard working and dependable. Truth be told, any and all mistakes or problems that evening could easily be traced back to his terrible attitude.
It was time to make amends to everyone – especially Grace.
Mercifully, the evening finally ended. It was after closing for the night, when all the kitchen and dining room cleaning was completed, that Mike gathered the entire staff together and apologized for his behavior. He went out of his way to make amends to Nunzio and the young apprentice. Once that necessary, but unpleasant, chore was completed, he dismissed the staff and the café was closed for the night. Now it was well after midnight and he sat, a solitary figure contemplating the events of the day in his mind and feeling very sorry for himself.
<Talking to Grace like that this morning was inexcusable. Snapping at her was mean and cruel. Why did I let her go out with that Sidney Guy? Why didn’t I go with her? Who knows, it might have been fun to spend time with her, even if this other person was around. Maybe we all might have had a lot of fun! Ryan or Karen could have run the place while I was out enjoying myself. Café Americana has become my *life* since Rita died. It is long past time to move on, like Rita begged me to. Grace and I have to talk. Its high time she knows my feelings for her!>
Just then he heard a gentle tapping on the door of the restaurant. Enough of the unpleasant mood lingered for him to want to answer in an angry voice, “We’re closed!” But he didn’t. Instead he looked up and saw Grace’s concerned face. Anxious that something might have happened to her, he rushed across the empty restaurant, dodging tables and chairs in the process, then fumbled with the lock and swiftly jerked open the door.
In a rough voice he scarcely recognized as his own, he said, “Grace! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
She looked into his face and said breathlessly, “Michael, I saw a single light on and you sitting alone. I thought perhaps something was wrong. Are *you* all right my dear?”
The use of the words ‘my dear’ made him pause, take a deep breath and say in a gentler tone, “I’m fine. What happened to your date?”
Hurt and not a little impatient, she retorted, “It was *not* a date.” She sighed tiredly and asked, “May I come in and have a seat? We really need to talk.”
Mike realized he was being something of a cad, stepped away from the door and gestured for her to enter, “Sure, make yourself comfortable. It’s been a long day.”
“For both of us.” She sat with serene poise in the wicker back chair he offered her. Patiently, she waited until he sat down beside her and then in a quiet voice spoke. “Maybe it was a date… at least from Sidney’s and my brother’s prospective.”
“Terrific, sounds to me like your brother was fixing you up,” Mike said morosely.
“Oh, don’t blame Raymond. After all, he’s my brother and has always wanted to see me happy and taken care of. But in any case, Sidney and I did have drinks, which progressed into dinner. He wanted to eat at Arabella’s. Sadly, I don’t remember tasting the food. He is a brilliant conversationalist, a perfect gentleman who walked me to my front door at a decent hour. Sadly during the evening and after arriving home, I felt the evening was a complete waste of time. My brownstone seemed so lonely and quiet; the walls were caving in on me. I had to get out, so I came here.”
“Oh, why is that?” Mike asked, curious despite himself.
“Because regardless of his qualities, personality and warmth, I didn’t want to spend time with Sidney Finch. All I could think about was…”
“Yes,” said Mike breathlessly.
“You,” she answered.
Suddenly he felt the walls of gloom tumble down, to be replaced by something like a shaft of sunshine, like something akin to joy.
“Yes,” she said her voice and manner turning as shy as a young schoolgirl.
Mike’s heart was full, almost too full for words. Still he knew he *had* to say something. “My lady, we have to talk, but first, can I make you something to eat? Apparently, Arabella’s food wasn’t good enough to tempt you.”
“At this hour? It’s got to be after midnight,” Grace replied.
“Ah, it’s much closer to one o’clock in the morning. What better time to indulge in an early breakfast?” Mike said, shrugging his shoulders.
She laughed, and her voice reminded him of bells tinkling. They stood up and Mike gallantly offered her his arm, which she gratefully took. Their steps were none too steady – they were too busy shaking with laughter – as they moved into the restaurant’s sparkling clean, stainless steel kitchen. Like a couple of excited teen-agers, they began to rattle off ideas for the morning’s feast.
“What about freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee?” he said.
“Eggs and toast?” she said.
“Toast? Woman, be serious - brioche!” he snorted in derision. “This is one of my famous breakfast brioches, so light and fluffy it will melt *before* the bread touches your tongue.”
“Yum! There’s a few remaining from yesterday’s breakfast?” she asked hopefully.
“Nope, but I can make us some!” he replied.
“Ah, no, remember… brioche takes *two* if not more raisings. We don’t want to be here when the morning staff arrives!”
He laughed heartily, “You are a baker – forgive me, I forgot.
“Forgiven. Forgotten. Besides, there’s more to me than just knitting!”
“Maybe brioche is out of the question, but there’s still some yeast rolls from tonight’s dinner.”
Laughter bounced off the walls. There was an easy camaraderie between the two - always had been from the first day they met.
“So, you really didn’t want to go out with him?” Mike said, picking up the conversation.
“Well, perhaps it was a pleasantly different way to spend the evening. But no, dear Michael, I really wanted to be with you. Why else would the invitation to join us be given? He was a pleasant enough fellow, a businessman, successful to be sure, yet not a man for me.”
“I’m a businessman.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “He makes ugly steel pipes for industrial sewage. *You* are a great deal more creative – and colorful!”
“Speaking of creative, I can whip up a mean salmon omelet.”
She made a contented humming sound, then, “Michael, that sounds positively decadent!” she laughed.
“Very well then, my lady, one ‘positively decadent’ salmon omelet with all the works coming up!” Mike’s voice sang out. He was feeling more alive than he had all day. He pulled open the massive door to the stainless steel walk-in refrigerator and began removing scallions, red bell pepper, fresh dill, Portobello mushrooms and a small piece of salmon.
All the ingredients were laid on the thick oak chopping table. With swift, expert knife stokes, Mike sliced and chopped the vegetables as Grace took out an iron skillet and laid it on the Wolff stovetop. Returning to the walk-in fridge, she searched diligently and found a tub of creamy butter. With quick movements she put two pats onto the skillet, watching as they slowly started to melt and bubble.
“Here, you’ll need this for the eggs.” Her kitchen mate handed over a small delicate wire whisk and a mixing bowl which held six large eggs.
“Thank you kind sir,” Grace said. Then began cracking the eggs with one hand.
He looked over to her and sighed. “Aha! A woman who knows how to crack an egg! That’s the way to a man’s heart.”
“Yes, well, when a woman finds a man who cooks, now that’s a real treasure!” she countered.
For the next few minutes they bantered and talked. Making their late dinner - early breakfast would be as much fun as eating it. Once the omelet was plated, Mike removed the yeast rolls from the warming tray. With a flourish indicative of chefs everywhere, he placed the food in front of his guest.
“This is a work of art. I don’t know whether to eat it or take a picture. Thank you, Mike.”
“You are more than welcome. Come on, let’s eat!”
As they lingered over the remains of the meal, Grace realized just how much she had wanted someone to share her life with. How special sharing something as simple as preparing a meal together made her feel. The only question remained, did Michael feel the same? Was he truly willing to make the next step? They had complemented each other throughout the evening. Now what?
“Michael, this was sinfully indulgent, just as you promised. If I realized how good full breakfasts are at the Café Americana, I wouldn’t always order a yogurt or muffin.”
“Come and sample whatever strikes your fancy. My door is always open to you, for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”
They sat quietly for a while in the kitchen sipping freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee, flavored with just a hint of Amaretto creamer. Now was the moment to relax, absorbing the warmth and solace of each other’s company.
“This is nice,” she whispered.
“Grace,” Mike said tentatively.
“Yes?”
“Since you opened the shop years ago, Rita and I valued your friendship. After her death, my heart became brittle. Yet you remained a steadfast friend, gently pushing me to live again - for my children, friends, customers and myself. You called me to see how I was doing long after everyone else’s life returned to normal. I will always be grateful to you for that. It took a lot of courage; sometimes I wasn’t very pleasant.
She wiped a solitary tear from her cheek, took a short breath and spoke. “It *was* a hard task. You were in so much pain… so much grief. After the sudden death of my husband, there was a support system for me to lean upon. God, without them recovery would have been impossible. Still, bit by bit, step by agonizing step the foul darkness receded.”
“But Grace, when you were ill with cancer, it nearly tore me apart. I wanted to say something, to let you know how deeply I felt. Fear stopped me in my tracks. Now the wasted time seems like a tragedy. I wasted even more time by standing every morning…”
“By the café’s front door and watching me walk to the shop. I think I have always known.” she said, taking his hand.
His eyes opened wide in surprise. “You did?”
Yes, and I felt the same way. But it did not seem appropriate to get involved with someone who had lost their wife to that terrible disease. Once my cancer went into remission, it seemed unfair to expect anyone to perhaps have to suffer through such an ordeal again. Oh Michael, I wish…” The friends looked intently at each other, words, were useless.
On impulse, they leaned over the table and their lips met in a full sweet gentle kiss.
“Wow,” she giggled as their lips separated.
“That was groovy,” Mike said with a lopsided grin.
“Groovy? We are showing our age, Michael Lane; you for using that term, and me for understanding it!”
He touched her forehead with his middle finger and ran it through her sleek black hair liberally streaked with gray. “That’s fine with me. We suit each other perfectly. You my lady, are to use another old phrase, ‘outta sight’. We should stop wasting time and enjoy a real date.”
“A *real* date?” she snorted. “This *is* a real date. It is so much better than what happened earlier this evening.”
“Don’t you mean last night? It’s almost three o’clock in the morning.”
There was a brief moment of silence as they realized that in a short span of time they had gone from being friends to becoming a couple. Mike took her small hand and squeezed it gently.
“Oh my, I have to get home get some rest! In a few hours the shop has to be opened.”
Mike leaned over the table and said in a husky voice, “What do you say to taking a little time off and enjoying tomorrow - today - with each other?”
She giggled nervously and then asked shyly, “Can we *do* that?”
“Sure we can! Haven’t we spent years building our respective businesses and hiring good people so we *can* take a day or two off every once in awhile? Listen, Lois is getting married on Saturday. Today is Thursday. I need a new suit to wear for the event. My very talented, very beautiful friend knitted four different pairs of colored socks. She has to help me pick out a suit that’ll look good for a wedding and smashing with one pair of those socks.”
Grace kissed him on the cheek. “Your friend knows just the place for such a suit!”
“Great! Uh, Grace, would you like to come with me to Lois and Clark’s wedding - as my date?”
“Yes,” she said, squeezing his hand.
He came around the table, pulled her to her feet and kissed her mouth. “Thank you! Let me tidy up this mess and leave a note for Ryan telling him I won’t be at work today. Besides, it high time I gave him more responsibility. Then my lady, I’ll escort you home.”
A short time later a very happy Mike and Grace exited Café Americana and walked down the street, arm in arm. The darkness of the spring night surrounded them, but between them and in their hearts a light as bright as the sun shone, promising many more such days to come.
*Epilogue*
High above Café Americana, Superman and Lois watched the couple walk serenely down the street.
“Lois, I think Uncle Mike is going to make a request to increase the headcount at our reception by one.”
“Oh, Clark, this makes the entire evening perfect. Uncle Mike and Grace look awfully cozy together. Who cares if he asks to increase the headcount? After all, he is the caterer! Wait until I tell everyone my uncle is dating Grace.”
“If he’s half as happy as I am, they won’t be dating for long.” He looked at his fiancée and noticed something on her cheek. “Hey, you’ve got a smudge of chocolate… let me take care of it.” Clark leaned close and kissed the confection from her face.
She giggled and said, “Only a few days more, flyboy.”
“I can hardly wait! Visiting Paris was an appetizer. Our honeymoon in Hawaii will be the main course,” Clark said.
“…*and* dessert.” His fiancée finished the thought. With his enhanced vision, he could see her eyes raking over his body.
“Minx! I’m taking you home before we skip the wedding and everything else!”
“No way Flyboy! We waited this long, we’re going the distance!”
So saying, the couple flew on.
