Riversong

by Hardwick, Tess

  It was stuffed with Ziploc bags full of money.

  They sat on the floor in the office, staring at the pile of cash at their feet. After counting it twice, they determined it was seven hundred and seventy-eight thousand dollars. Neither spoke for several minutes until Linus flopped against the wall, gazing at the ceiling with a dumbfounded expression. “I didn't realize there were no banks here.”

  Lee stared at the pile of money. “This is enough to pay DeAngelo.”

  He jerked to his feet. “We've got to get this back in the hole.”

  Lee began handing him the bags. “No wonder he threatened me.”

  “How dangerous is he?” asked Linus, stuffing another into the hole.

  “He threatened to hurt me if I got in his way.”

  “Would he know it was you if it disappeared?”

  “I think so. He and I are the only ones who have keys to this office.” She handed him another bag. “Why is he keeping it here?”

  “I don't profess to understand the criminal mind but having watched a lot of police shows, I say he figures you would never assume he would keep it right under your nose.” He gave her another baggie to fill. “Or, maybe he's really stupid.”

  A horrible thought came to Lee. “What if the drugs are here too?”

  “No way, he hasn't been here enough. Should we go to the police?”

  She put her head in her hands. “I don't know, I'm so tired. I need time to think.”

  “Let's sleep on it,” he said.

  She raised her head, watching his long fingers zip another baggie. “How did you get fired?”

  “Von started showing up every night at Figs. He'd sit at the bar for hours. A couple of times he got rough with me at the end of the night.”

  Horrified, her body went hot and then cold. “To get you to tell them where I was?”

  “Right.”

  “Linus, how rough?”

  He fluttered his hands. “Beat me to a pulp a couple of times. The first time he broke my arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt past his elbow. “Broke it right here. I had a cast for eight weeks. The second time he beat me so badly I had to spend a week in the hospital.” He looked at her, his face crumpling. “Now, don't cry, love. It's okay.” He bent his arm several times. “See, it's fine.”

  “How did you get him to stop?”

  “When I was in the hospital they gave me a cop outside the hospital door. Unfortunately, the owners of Figs thought the whole situation unseemly – bad for business and all that, so they fired me while I was in the hospital. After I was well enough to be released I hired one of those rentacop types to help me pack up and escape to Chicago.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Couple of months ago.”

  “Why Chicago?”

  “I wanted to see Will's mom. I figured they couldn't find me there, since I have no family there or anything.”

  “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

  “I didn't want you to fret. What could you do at this point? I'm fine now.”

  “I don't know what to say.” She began to cry. “I'm sorry Dan and I have managed to ruin your life too.”

  He shrugged and took her hand. “Change is good. I've been in a rut and would never have left Figs if I wasn't forced. I was bored and lonely. There are other jobs, other towns.” He looked at her fingers. “Good God, you need a manicure. Your hands look terrible.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Finally the day of the opening arrived. Before they opened the doors for the first dinner, Lee, Linus, and the entire staff sat at a rectangular eating their before shift meal of pasta with red sauce that tasted of garlic, fresh tomatoes, basil, onion and another ingredient Lee couldn't discern.

  Twirling spaghetti around his fork, Linus said from the head of the table, “Opening night. It's like Christmas.” He gazed at the staff. “Are you all as excited as I am?” His fork hung in mid-air, the strands of spaghetti coiled in perfect symmetry.

  No one said a word.

  “Excuse me, is anyone out there?” said Linus.

  Billy and Annie sat together on one end of the table picking at their food. Cindi, at the other end, studied the wine list between bites of pasta, her forehead glistening with a mixture of orange tinted make-up and sweat. The servers sat together, memorizing the ‘Specials’list.

  Linus snapped his fingers, waving his other hand in the air above his plate. “In a mere ninety minutes, history will be made. Gourmet food will have invaded this hungry town and by hungry I mean, starving, for something decent to eat.” He motioned to the three high-school kids, hired for washing dishes and bussing tables, as they shoveled pasta into their mouths. “Just look at these three, for example.” Lee couldn't help but notice the wiry one's acne was the same hue as the pasta sauce. Linus pointed his fork at the boys. “Have you gentlemen eaten in the last several years?”

  The tall one with sloped shoulders grinned and murmured into his bowl. “Lee had us here at seven this morning and wouldn't let us take a break to eat.” He blushed and peeked up at Lee, only to blush a deeper pink and stare into his pasta bowl before shoveling another sloppy bite into his mouth.

  There were twitters from various corners of the table. “Please,” said Lee, rolling her eyes in jest. “I let you have a little break for bread and water around noon.”

  The one in the middle, the handsome, letterman wearing one, raised his eyebrows at Lee. “Oh yes, master, give us some more.”

  The other boys laughed. “Finish your dinner,” Lee said. She noticed Annie was rocking in her chair with one arm pushed into her stomach. “What's the matter with our chef?”

  “I think I'm going to be sick I'm so nervous.”

  Linus laughed and sat back in his chair. “You artists are all the same. Describe the specials to the servers and you'll be fine.”

  Annie grabbed a note card from her apron pocket. “We've got two main dishes for specials. The first is cabernet-braised pork short ribs served with gorgonzola polenta and mixed-herb gremolata. The ribs were seasoned and chilled overnight and then braised in the oven for several hours, spiced with fresh rosemary, thyme and the sauce, obviously, is made from Cabernet wine and butter. The second are grilled New York steaks with San Marzano sauce. This was chosen because of our seasonally based menu, since tomatoes are ripe.” She cleared her throat and an abrupt self-conscious laugh escaped. She clamped her mouth shut for a moment and stared at the table. “Sorry, I'm freaking out a little. So, yeah, the sauce is made from a plum-type tomato and fresh basil. We're serving it with a side of goat cheese ravioli in a simple brown butter sauce. It complements the complexity and acidity of the tomato sauce in contrast to the richness of the steak.”

  Linus leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Who wants to recommend a wine for the ribs? Karen?”

  “Let's see. I'm not much of a drinker myself...”

  Linus shook his head. “No, no, darling, you're not a mother of four housewife when you're wearing the white apron. You're a sophisticated wine and food connoisseur, whose obligation is to help the less privileged lead a more fabulous existence.”

  Karen grinned. “Right, sorry, I forgot what you said about that.” She closed her eyes for a moment.

  Linus raised both hands in the air. “Before you answer, what are we, gang?”

  The servers said in unison. “We're educators.”

  He nodded his head and turned his gaze to Karen. “And, the winner for wine selection is?”

  Karen grimaced. “A merlot?”

  Linus pursed his lips. “Have I taught you nothing? Merlot for short ribs, no, no, no. It needs something bold to hold up against the meat and the only choice is a cabernet, or for the advent urous, a syrah. As we talked about during training, suggest two different bottles, one on the less expensive side and one on the medium scale, unless you think they're rich. And, do we remember how to discern if one's patron is loaded?”

  John raised his foot above the table and ev
eryone called out, “Look at their shoes.”

  Linus smiled and put his hand on his chest in mock reverence. “I've taught you so well.”

  Lee stood, looking at her watch. “Alright, finish your dinners. We open in exactly seventy-seven minutes. Don't forget to check your teeth for bits of basil.” She picked up her empty plate to head for the kitchen, but Linus caught her eye and stepping next to her whispered, “You're hopeless.”

  She shrugged and mouthed, “What?”

  Linus put a hand in the air. “Before you all run off, I have a few words on behalf of our management staff.” He indicated to Annie and Lee with his water glass before pausing and looking around the table. “We realize most of you are either artists or this job is your secondary, how shall we say, less favored work, perhaps on your way to somewhere else. I've been in this business a long time and know this is the curse of restaurant staff.” He smiled and looked around the table at each face. “We thank you and celebrate you for your hard work these last few weeks, especially given that it's not your dream job. And, on the cusp of my departure, I give you two last challenges for tonight and all the nights you work here. The first is to find joy in the doing of something with excellence, whatever your task. Know there is meaning in that pursuit of perfection, whether it's pouring a glass of water without splashing, or gracefully taking back a steak to the chef even though it's cooked to their specifications, or making a martini with the perfect amount of vermouth, or my personal favorite, opening wine tableside without the tacky pop of the cork.” He smiled at the servers. “The second is to notice the artistry in the ordinary, perhaps an image to paint later, a conversation overheard to use for fiction.” He gazed at John for a moment. “Choose something every night that inspires you, so that your time here is not just about money. Know this, my dears, beauty, inspiration, can be found in the most astonishing places.” He raised his water glass. “I toast you. As for your nerves, in the words of a good whore, ‘fake it till you make it.’” Everyone laughed and raised their glasses with cheers all around.

  Lee raised her water glass, tears prickling the insides of her eyelids. She inhaled and steadied her voice. “Cheers.”

  Annie wiped tears from her cheeks and stood. “This is a dream come true for me. Cooking is what I love and, well, thanks for all being here and Lee, thanks for believing in me.” Her face crumpled and she collapsed into her chair. “I'm just so happy.”

  After everyone departed for their last minute duties, Lee went to her office and closed the door. It was organized now into a tidy space, the desk bare but for her laptop and several bins for paper items. The files were tucked in their drawers, alphabetized and sorted between vendors, personnel files, and various other subjects. She sunk into her office chair and closed her eyes for a moment. She thought about the money behind the desk.

  There was a knock on the office door and Linus stuck his head through the opening. “Hiding out?”

  “What? No, just gathering my thoughts.”

  He closed the door. “Guess where I slept last night?”

  “Please say you haven't slept with one of the staff.”

  He grinned and tugged on his ear. “John's not my staff.” He flicked a piece of lint from his trousers and fussed with the starched crease.

  “You sure that's a good idea?”

  “He's a good person, Lee. I really like him.”

  “Just don't leave him with a broken heart.”

  “Speaking of that, I have some news. I've decided to lease Mike's building next door and turn it into a bed and breakfast. I leave tomorrow to fetch my things from Grace's house in Chicago.”

  “Funny.”

  “No joke. Mike's agreed to co-sign for a bank loan.”

  Lee stared at him, speechless.

  “Will's been dead for ten years. Do you realize that?” His eyes drifted to the ceiling. “I was spared the virus and I thank God for that every day but I think there was a part of me that felt like I shouldn't live if Will didn't get to. Something about the last couple of months made me realize I haven't really been living. Even Will's mother has moved on. Did I tell you she finally remarried after being divorced for twenty years? Her new husband has two grown daughters and they call her their second mom. One of them has this toddler who follows Grace around like a puppy, crawling on her lap every chance he gets. Do you remember how she seemed like she'd crawl into the grave with Will at the service? Yet she lived to love again.”

  Lee nodded, remembering too, how Linus had practically carried her back to her seat. “I remember.”

  “I look at you, how you've blossomed into the person you're supposed to be here, how you're flushed with love. I want that too.”

  Lee rubbed the goose bumps on her forearms. “But I may not be here. What if I have to run?”

  He thumped his torso on the door and his voice was louder than normal. “Why don't you just tell Tommy the truth and give him a chance to help you.”

  “Tommy doesn't have that kind of money.” She gazed at the desk. “If he knows, he'll try to do something and it's too dangerous. I cannot bear the thought of him getting hurt or worse, killed.” She nodded towards him. “Do I have to remind you what happened to you?”

  He looked at her, hands on his hips for a moment. “No, you don't.” His eyes glittered as he adjusted his tie. “Goddamn bastard.”

  “Dan or DeAngelo?”

  “Both.”

  “I want more than anything to be free.”

  His face softened. “Free to stay here. Free to stay with Tommy.”

  She said in a soft voice, looking at her hands, “Yes, more than anything to stay with Tommy. And I don't want you to stay without me.” She put her head in her hands. “I'm a terrible person.”

  “I said it before and I'll say it again.” He knelt, putting his hands on either side of her face. “We'll get this guy paid off one way or the other. I have some things to take care of in Chicago but when I return we'll sit down with Tommy and figure out a plan.” He opened the door an inch before turning back to her. “Lee, being truthful with the people who love you is the only way to be truly free.”

  There was a soft knock and Mike's voice came through the opening of the door. “You guys in there? I have great news. A reporter's coming from the Seattle Times.”

  Lee froze, chest tight. Linus stuck his head around the door, his face impassive, his voice even. “No pictures of Lee, right?”

  “Just Annie and the restaurant,” said Mike.

  Lee let out a breath. “Good.”

  Thirty minutes later, Lee grabbed the “Grand Opening” sign and swung open the front door. She placed the sign on the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. It was a Friday in early August, the air hot and dry, the traffic through town steady, with as many out of state license plates as local. She blinked, thinking the buildings seemed less turquoise than they used to be. Must be the way the sun glows this time of year, she thought. Linus was right that the town was charming, in its own humble way. A little facelift in the way of new paint on the businesses could do wonders. She would convince Mike to organize the effort, or maybe Ray. He needed a project, and the town might flourish with a little love and care from such a kind-hearted man leading the effort. Like her house, she mused, and herself for that matter, thinking of the way Tommy had held her for an extra moment that morning before she left his house for the restaurant. His arms around her made her feel cherished and filled her with warmth that lasted all through this busy day. She looked across the street at Ray's office, knitting her brow – when had he changed his storefront paint to the attractive muted brown?

  She stood for a moment, admiring the front of the restaurant and the portable “We're Open” sign. John had given it to her for a grand opening gift, and she suspected, to impress Linus. It was an A-frame wooden sign, made of Cedar, decorated with fragments of his failed glasswork. “Riversong” was written out in cobalt blue and around the edges were bits of yellow and green. In the last several we
eks there were articles about Riversong in the Medford, Eugene and Portland newspapers, plus a blurb in the latest Alaska Airlines flight quarterly magazine along with a small mention in the Northwest version of Sunset magazine. She gazed at the sign and said a silent prayer, “Please let them stop. Please, someone come.”

  Lee grabbed a small bag of trash from behind the hostess podium and walked to the kitchen. Rock music blared from someone's IPOD. The garlic and butter aroma from Annie's croutons filled the air.

  The chef herself was at the stove stirring something in a large frying pan that let off the aroma of blackberries. Billy stood at the prep island, using a knife to julienne zucchini. He chopped with rapid succession, fingers wrapped around the zucchini and the knife moving a hair away from his fingernails, just as she'd seen Annie do. “Billy, the way you're using that knife, you look like a real chef,” said Lee.

  He looked up, adjusting his chef hat and grinning. “Annie taught me. I've been practicing with a bunch of potatoes every night before I go to bed.”

  “Billy, I'm impressed.”

  “I'm kinda impressed with myself.”

  Lee walked down the back steps to dump the trash in the bins. There were two skinny young men standing behind it, smoking cigarettes with one hand while their remaining limbs twitched and jerked. Lee opened the bin and threw the trash in, holding her breath against the stench of rotting food and cigarette smoke. She turned to walk back inside, looking at the ground to avoid eye contact.

  “What's up your ass, lady?” They both laughed.

  She walked towards the back door, feeling their eyes on the back of her head.

  One of them called out to her. “Where's Zac?”

  She turned back to them. “He won't be here anymore, so whatever you need, ask around town, because he's no longer associated with this restaurant.”

  One of them threw his cigarette on the concrete, stomping it with his ratty tennis shoe. “We need to find him.” He pulled on his ear and then bit the nail of his thumb.

  “Sorry, can't help you.” She started up the stairs.