Sweet Love (NG5)

13 - The Point

Somehow Kat survived the funeral and felt relieved to be in her kitchen on Tuesday morning. Because she had to make up for the time she lost on Monday, he decided on an easy flourless chocolate torte.

Typically, she made a list and Bryce put the orders in with the vendors. As the morning wore on, she waited for her produce order to arrive. They couldn't prep without fresh vegetables to dice and chop.

Bryce wasn't in so she went to the office to call their sales rep. "Sorry, no can do?"

"What do you mean no?"

"Account's overdue. You need to pay up."

She sighed. "My grandfather passed away. We had the wake and funeral. We're a little behind on paperwork. Bring my order and I'll give you a check."

He sighed. "Okay, but we can't float you again."

She sighed. Bryce had better explain himself. She didn't need the stress. Where was he anyway?

With the produce problem solved, Kat was too busy chopping to pay attention to anything else. When she met with the servers to review the specials, Dan asked, "Whose seating the tables?"

She furrowed her brow. What a stupid question. She looked around. "Where's Bryce?"

They responded with shrugs. One smart ass said, "If you don't know."

She turned on her heels to get her phone to call him thinking the worst - an accident, illness. Just as she verified she hadn't missed a text or call, he walked in the kitchen door. Although he dressed impeccably, he looked like he hadn't slept, except he was sound asleep when she woke.

"Where... Forget it for now. Get out front!"

The evening went smoothly. Working was the best panacea. Her ears perked when she heard "eight-six the merlot". How had they run out of wine? Too busy to dwell on it, she filed it away.

Somehow she made it through the week, but screw ups kept happening - items missing from orders, the wine cellar had been depleted. By Saturday, the staff joked about whether the beer tap would be running.

She smiled and looked at her boyfriend. "Bryce and I will work on Monday to get things back in shape." Bryce nodded expressionlessly.

On Sunday morning, she considered baking for her parents, but her heart wasn't in it. Instead of visiting Pops, she drove to the suburbs to the home she grew up in.

Her father sat in the kitchen drinking coffee looking the way she felt. She sighed. "I miss him too."

He groaned. "I'm an orphan."

She wanted to smile. "You're fifty-seven and you have me and Mom."

"I know."

"You're grieving. I am too. A month ago he was arguing about using Tim Wakefield* as a reliever."

Seth sighed. "Aaron F'ing Boone."

In the wee hours of the morning in October 2003, Boone hit a home run off Wakefield ending the chance for the Sox to go to the World Series.

"But they beat the curse and won it all the next year."

"Your Pops was dancing the jig. I had never seen him happier, except maybe when you and your cousins were born."

"He was pretty happy when we opened the restaurant."

"He was. Right before his series of strokes. How's business?"

She shrugged. The truth was, she wasn't sure. Things hadn't felt right, and it scared her. "We're busy, but running a business is hard. I feel like my grip is slipping."