Cafe Lawyer Ch 03

Shuttlepilot with calibeachgirl

copyright 2012

all rights reserved

*

Looking for restaurant ideas, Cecily and I went to Disneyland, walked up Main Street and headed to New Orleans Square. After a short wait, we were sitting in the Blue Bayou Restaurant and I was amazed at the prices and seriously considered changing those of our café... at least, in the dining room for dinner.

She had the Bayou Surf & Turf... 'a sweet petite lobster tail from the Pacific Northwest, paired with an expertly broiled filet mignon, bearnaise sauce, with Blue Bayou potatoes and seasonal vegetables' for only $44.99. At least, that's what the menu said. What a deal!

Me? I had the Roasted Beef Strip Loin... 'seasoned with the chef's signature five-pepper blend, then slow roasted over rock salt and topped with Armagnac sauce and crispy hand battered onion rings, all with Blue Bayou potatoes and seasonal vegetables' for $37.99.

My café's menu definitely was going to undergo some changes. While not skyrocketing the prices into the 'captive audience' level of Disneyland's, a few bucks here and there wouldn't drive anyone away and bring our bottom line up enough to continue giving weekly bonuses... or, at least, that's what our thinking was.

We pretended to take pictures of one another but were actually photographing the restaurant in all its glory. Heh, heh, I thought, just the thing. There were a couple of outdoor Italian eateries that were high on my list, also.

With the money that had come in from that one lawsuit, I had several million sitting in the bank and I figured this was at least as good an idea as any other. Construction could start in a week or two, as soon as we decided what we wanted the place to look like. I was thinking of an outdoor setting, like a patio or something, with a faux sky that changed from day to night depending on the time.

Once the pictures were taken, we settled into enjoying our highly-priced dinners. I had to admit, the food was pretty good but I knew that ours would be better.

The next morning, we went to three different department stores before we found the perfect china for the new dining room. The white porcelain plates had a double ring of silver around the edge and flowers in sort of a filigree pattern. The place settings were twenty-five dollars a place setting but I figured they'd be worth it in keeping with the new style we were trying to present. We made arrangements to have them delivered the next day.

It was lunch time and I really wanted to go to Marie Callender's for a Frisco burger and some pie. Imagine my surprise when the restaurant was closed. Somehow, I had missed all the hoopla surrounding the bankruptcy of the chain. Oh, that was a miserable feeling, you know, hoping for some sour cream blueberry pie and finding out that there wasn't going to be any. On the other hand, it left the door open, I thought, to try and recreate the pie ourselves. I knew what it tasted like; it was just a situation of trying to match it.

..... .....

"Wow! What a mess," said Cecily, seeing the brickwork and plaster going up on the walls and the dusty plastic sheeting along the floor as she picked her way through the scaffolding. The sky with its small hidden spotlights had been installed the week earlier and lived up to our expectations. After the walls were finished, we were going to install the artificial plants to give it that outdoor look.

"It'll be finished soon enough and then we'll be back open," I said, moving a reddish-brown recycled brick with my shoe.

"You know, this'll mean you can't do business in here anymore; otherwise, you'll have to limit your hours up to the start of lunch. You'll have to find somewhere else. Maybe you can add on an office, you know, in the back and go from there. I'd hate to think you couldn't help anyone, anymore."

..... .....

Several days later, the dining room was open for business and we had a full seating and reservations booked for the rest of the week. In keeping with the upscale image we wanted to project, the girls working the dining room wore tuxedo shirts and black skirts that looked so much better than the regular pink and green pastel diner outfits worn out front.

We had gone so far as to give the back room a separate entrance and it eased the cross traffic that used to jam up the front room.

"We're full up," said Cecily. "I'm so happy; this is really working out nicely."

"Good. This is going to be your baby."

She threw her arms around me and kissed me. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..." I liked the feel of her in my arms, the press of her breasts against my chest, the warmth and the love.

I turned and saw Susan standing in the doorway, just watching and when she saw that I had noticed, she put her hand to her mouth and ran back into the kitchen area. "Damn," I muttered. Ever since the divorce, I had tried hard to avoid her and now here she was, intruding into what had been a private moment with my fiancée.

I remembered back to that first night we had kissed. I had walked her home after the dance at the school. She had been left high and dry by her date who preferred to spend his time with his team mates rather than dance with her. To this day, I still don't understand what he was thinking.

I took her up to the front door and somehow kissed her in the brightness of the porch light while her grandmother watched through the curtains. The next week, we were a couple and stayed together right until the acrimonious divorce that wrenched my heart from my soul and cast me into the pits of hell.

I never thought that she would be so easily swayed to cheat on me. Sometimes, it is more than just sex. I couldn't live with her betrayal and told her to leave.

I truly questioned my agreement with Cecily about giving Susan a job at the café, for she was supposed to be in the back where I didn't come into contact with her unless I really wanted to. I went from delirium to anger in just a split second. Why was she still able to anger me so much? Enough time should have passed that I would be over her betrayal and yet, I still fostered such resentment it was hurting me. How, I had asked myself, was it possible that she could claim to love me and then turn around and tell me that love no longer existed, that our marriage had been a mistake?

"What's the matter, honey?" asked Cecily, sensing my instantaneous change of mood.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said, "don't worry about it, it's nothing."

I reluctantly left her arms, went into my new office and booted up my computer to check my emails. There were several from friends that had moved away, one of whom had married a Chinese national and spent half his time in China and half in San Diego, and four from Snagajob, which for some reason thought I was looking for work.

Realizing that speaking with Susan would only make the situation worse and probably cause me to say something I would definitely regret later, I let it pass, hoping that it didn't happen again. After all, I felt I had given her a job when no one else would, especially after what she had done. Love is there in pain and sorrow and the deepest, darkest heartaches and I had given it all I could and realized it was over.

For a moment, I flashed back to her boyfriend lying in the parking lot, bleeding to death after I shot him. I was still amazed that the police and the district attorney let the whole matter drop. I guess he was a worse person than I thought.

"Cecily, I got a letter from my high school. There's going to be a reunion in three months and I'd like to go... with you."

I decided to go to the reunion and imagined what the reaction would be when I walked in with an ebony princess on my arm, especially since for the tenth reunion, I had attended with Susan. Even though I had graduated in the mid-90s, dating at my school had been strictly a 'whites only' world, especially after the King riots and Cecily had grown up in a rougher neighborhood.

..... .....

'Welcome back, Class of '95' said the banner stretched across the front of the ballroom at the Hilton, beckoning us inside. With Cecily on my arm, we slowly entered the room, surveying those already there and wondering who would still arrive. There was an entire wall of people in every direction and the smell of alcohol and smoke, legal and otherwise, was everywhere.

I turned to her and asked, "Are you sure this isn't some kind of fire hazard?"

She grinned and shook her head as she took the lead and elbowed her way in, cutting a path for both of us. She raised her voice above the din. "They don't seem to mind too much."

There was a mellow mood filling the ballroom. "That's because," I said, 'they're feeling no pain."

"Follow me," she said, taking my hand she began to weave her way through the sea of bodies to the bar. Her voice was lost in the noise.

"What?" I asked.

"What's your pleasure?" she asked over her shoulder.

"You," I thought. Clearing my mind from the visions that danced through my head, I answered, "Rum and Coke."

She nodded. Her hair seemed to shimmy as it flowed around her shoulders. I stifled the need to thread my fingers through her curls and push them away from her face.

She was still holding my hand and I put the other into my pocket, keeping it there for safekeeping, knowing that if it was free it would probably end up on her butt. "Sounds simple enough."

Reaching the bar, she elbowed her way in and met with resistance. The man to her right wasn't moving. Tall and muscular, he was taking up more than his fair share and laughed when she tried to get him to move.

Cecily frowned, annoyed. "Excuse me; would you give me a little room, please?"

The man gave a drunken grin down at her. "I'd rather leave just enough room for you, right here." He indicated the area between him and the bar.

I started to take a step forward but she waved me back. "Only if you want to sing soprano."

"A few minutes with me and I'll have you singing a different tune, little girl."

"The lady asked you to move," I said, my protective instincts moving me forward. "I suggest you do so."

The man's eyes swept over me, looking me over up and down. I didn't know what he was thinking, only that I wasn't going to back down. He drained his glass and set it down on the bar top with a slam. "Guess I'll have to leave, then."

I didn't look away. "Guess so."

The bartender put a glass down on the bar top. "Here's a free one, friend. Please, drink it over there." He watched until the man had walked far enough away and then wiped down the bar. "What'll it be?"

"Rum and Coke, please."

He reached under the bar and brought out the good stuff. "Here's one on the house."

"Of all the people here," I said, "the one I really want to see is the principal. He had straightened me out one long weekend and convinced me to stop wasting my life. He was the only person that gave me the push to succeed and my grades rose high enough that I got a scholarship to college based on his recommendation. He had been the one I confided in when my marriage ended and my life went to hell and he had kept me from becoming a losing drunk. I owe him my life and can't wait to introduce you to him."

"Jim Martin? Is that you?" No matter how old we become, our voices still tend to be the same. I turned around to meet a man I probably hadn't seen for more than ten years.

"Dave! Dave Crowder! How nice to see you. How are you doing?"

Crowder stood there in his Air Force uniform. I knew that he had gone into the ROTC program during college and became a dentist with the Air Force. That he was still in the service, though, surprised me. On his arm was a pleasant looking woman in her late 30s.

"This is, uh, my wife, Doris," he said, nodding toward her.

"This is my fiancé, Cecily Baker." The two women shook hands, Doris' eyes opening wide when she saw the engagement ring. I don't know what surprised her more, the size of the ring or the fact that Cecily was black. I didn't care. I didn't like Crowder that much, anyway. He was one of those guys who, after you'd shaken hands with him, you counted your fingers to make sure they all came back.

"So," he said, "what are you doing now?"

"We work in a restaurant," Cecily answered, smiling. I took a sip of my rum and Coke, letting her carry the ball.

"Oh, how, uh, nice. Nice to see you." And with that, they walked away. I guess the idea of two lowly people working in a restaurant talking to you wasn't worthy of your attention.

Of course, Cecily neglected to tell him that I owned the restaurant, now one of the most popular in the area. I laughed, watching the two of them disappearing into another crowd of now balding, out of shape ex-jocks and their slightly to mostly overweight wives. "Gee, babe, I guess we weren't that interesting."

I turned my head and saw the principal. "C'mon, honey, there's Mr. Crowell and his wife. I've got to introduce you to them."

Practically dragging her by the hand, I led her across the ballroom to the man, now in his late 50s, standing by his wife. He seemed to have lost some of his hair but otherwise looked in good shape; he had had open-heart surgery a few years back and she had cut her once long and beautiful hair short. Why women of a certain age cut their hair short was always a mystery to me but what really caught my attention was the mile-wide smile across her face. A happier woman, other than Cecily, I had never seen.

"Mr. Crowell, good to see you, sir; this is my fiancé, Cecily Baker."

"It's good to see you, Cecily; Jim... you're a lucky man, is she as nice as she is beautiful?"

"Please, call me Cee-Cee," she said, extending her hand.

"Thank you, Cee-Cee." Martine stood there, in sharp contrast to his business suit, wearing a western-themed dress with silver collar clips and buttons.

"I see that our, uh, discussion helped you out." He smiled at took a sip of his soda. I had never seen him drink alcohol. I don' think he had anything against alcohol; I think it was that he didn't want to do anything stupid in public. "Yes, sir, eventually it all worked out."

"So, what are you doing now?" he asked, a huge grin still on his face. Except when I told him my marriage was over, I had always seen him smiling.

"We're going to be married, soon. I'm still a lawyer and still own the restaurant 'Cosette's' and..."

"That's wonderful. I hope that you have a wonderful, happy life together. I've heard wonderful things about your restaurant. You recently had a re-opening, didn't you?" Martine asked.

"Yes, ma'am, we did. Any time you want to come, any time, please be our guests."

"Thank you... and how's the law practice?" She put her hand on my arm, once again acting like the mother I had lost so early in my life.

"It's all right. I've done a good amount of pro-bono work lately. I've been lucky enough that I have the time for it."

"That's great. We'd love to come see your new place." He shook my hand and patted my shoulder.

"Thank you, sir. Call anytime for a reservation. It's been wonderful seeing you again... Mrs. Crowell." Cecily and I walked away.

We finally shared a table with Richard "Flash" Gordon and his wife, a short, slim woman who smiled a lot and laughed at everything. Rounding out the small group was Mary Smithson, still looking as wonderful as she did as a cheerleader, and her husband, a nice fellow who was into marketing.

We spent the rest of the evening dancing, drinking, actually enjoying dinner and talking about teachers, football games and the prom at Catalina.

"I feel so much better, now," I said as we were driving home. "About Susan," I started to say.

"Yes?"

"Never mind." I really didn't know what to do about my ex-wife except make sure that she stayed in the kitchen washing the dishes. How to go about that, though, was still eluding me without it descending into a shouting match, complete with tears, and of course, I would be the bad guy.

I tried to sleep that night but was caught in that miserable state, you know, too tired to stay away and too tired to sleep. I stared at the dark ceiling, watching a brightness move across it every now and then when a car drove by.

..... .....

The new dining room was a continued success and we had a very nice review in the newspaper. Reservations were booked three weeks in advance. We had to set up an email account to remind people and in the first two weeks, only had two no-shows.

Cecily bought herself four new gowns to wear as hostess. Saturday nights, we removed two tables and brought in a grand piano. It became so popular that we made it a nightly event.

..... .....

Two weeks later, I once again came in contact with Susan. She was finally looking healthy, her body had once again regained its femininity and there was a good color to her face. For the last month, I had been giving everyone a hundred dollar cash bonus each week. For her, I always added an extra fifty dollars, not so much for her but, as Cecily said, for myself.

"Hello, Jim."

"Susan," I said, nodding my head.

"I haven't really had a chance to thank you for what you've done for me. I truly appreciate it. I know you didn't have to do it."

"Yes... well, consider it for old time's sake. I've, uh, got to go." I turned to leave.

She sighed and lowered her eyes. "Jim? I'm sorry. I don't have an answer for you."

I stared at her for a moment, surprised at her honesty, realizing it was the first time she had ever apologized for destroying what I had thought was the future. I remembered that night when she had told me she didn't want me or our marriage anymore and left to be with him.

With time, I had learned to tell myself that it wasn't my fault that she stopped loving me; that it wasn't some lack in me that had caused her to love someone else; that these things happened; that they were an everyday occurrence and not something that made me a failure in the most basic of relationships. So, she had listened to someone else, been fooled by someone else and stopped loving me and I had been hurt, badly hurt. Life goes on.

I looked at Susan. "Stop torturing yourself."

She nodded her head. "Thank you," she whispered and left.

I still resolved to keep my distance from her. My open affection for Cecily must be hard for her to witness every day. Could I forgive her? That was the only way I could free myself of her. I wanted to go forward without regret, to wake up each morning and not have the pain of the past influence my every thought, my every decision.

My feelings for her had finally reached the point where it no longer mattered, although I didn't want to deal with her on a daily basis. I couldn't see a situation where we would ever be friends, let alone on friendly terms. But, I didn't hate her, anymore. She just... was.

With Cecily working full time at the café, Mary had to be put into day care until my aunt could pick her up for the evening. I knew it wasn't the best solution but there was nothing else we could do, given the circumstances.

..... .....

"Cee-Cee, let's get married," I said, hugging her to me.

"We're going to, silly." She kissed me back.

"No, I mean now or at least as soon as possible. I want to say, 'this is my wife.' I don't want to wait any longer."

She looked at me, possibly surprised. Even though we were engaged, we had never set a date and had settled into an easy 'we'll get to it when we get to it.' I didn't want that, any more.

"All right," Cecily said, a look of amusement on her face. Let me call Reverend Johnston and set something up."

With the Church still holding its antiquated attitude toward remarriage, a Catholic ceremony was out of the question and since she was Baptist, we would be married in her church. It was all right with me. Enough bad things had happened in my life that I was ambivalent toward one church or the other except for those morons in the Middle East.