Family: The Secret Ingredient

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“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.”