Chapter 10

Calvin Fischoeder could be fantastically helpful, so much so that I still worked for him all these years. And this morning one of his offhand comments saved the day.

"Logan, do you know where the file on Bob's restaurant is located? I made a bet with Augie and I cannot bear to lose face with him, not after the debacle at the Clam Bake." I could only imagine with Calvin meant by bet and clam bake, so I ignored all that for the pertinent parts of the sentence.

"I have them here, sir, in my file on your few business holdings you have remaining. Is something wrong?" I handed over a mid-sized packet of papers marked "Belcher."

He flipped through the pages nonchalantly and shook his head slightly. "Mm? No, of course not my boy. I just need somethingâ." He was now at the end of the file, in the oldest of the papers and he grinned as he found what he was looking for. "Aha! I knew I wrote it down somewhere! Let's see now Bobs building is 6.25 Felixes tall. Eat that, Augie!" Calvin closed the file with a flourish and dropped it down on my desk then briskly waltzed out of the office.

I looked at the papers in the Bob file, searching for what Calvin had found that made him so happy. At the back with the oldest papers for the building there was the original deed. In the margins were a bunch of seemingly unrelated and mysterious numbers. Apparently Calvin had his own unit for measuring and it included his brother. Any more than that I couldn't glean from the Calvin-glyphs.

When I straightened out all the papers, keeping them in chronological order with the more recent in front, I took a look at the current lease. It was nearing it's renewal date. So far, when it had needed to be resigned and updated I would send a courier or intern or whoever was handy with a tiny rent increase on a new contract, always less than one hundred dollars a month, over an average of 2-3 years. The rent increase was nominal and never even dented their profit. Their lease was still a net loss for Calvin, but he did not need to know that. This contract was under my purview and so far as Calvin was concerned, he was still making money on them. Eh, what he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?

Maybe this upcoming lease renewal could work to my benefit. As far as I could tell from the town gossip, Louise still worked in the restaurant, as a manager now, maybe? Some sort of leadership role surely. Bob spent more time at home working on secret recipes and the like, a little birdie told me. If I were to take this contract to be signed myself I would likely see Louise; we would be face-to-face for the first time in almost ten years. I suddenly felt my heart beat a little faster. Why was my mouth dry? Should I go today?

No, I needed time to draft the new paperwork. And shower. Did I smell sweaty? I felt sweaty.

Definitely, I needed time to prepare.

I chose three different suits. I changed my shoes four times and ended up wearing the first pair I picked out. I agonised for ten straight minutes if I should wear aftershave or cologne and then decided on neither, opting for simple deodorant which I reapplied twice, just in case. I brushed my hair for several minutes but came to the conclusion that I cut it short so that I wouldn't have to style it, therefore it resisted all my attempts to force styling upon it now. Should I bring my messenger bag with all my files that I used regularly or should I use the fancy briefcase mom bought me a few Christmases ago that I used all of three times since then?

Would she even notice it was me? Maybe she wouldn't recognize me. I had gotten a little leaner in the face with age. I went to the gym at least twice a week to battle the onset of my thirties and the beer belly that had formed on several of my frat brothers and other friends. Some were also rocking the dad bod pretty well while they chased their children around. So far, I was in the best shape I had ever been in. Would she appreciate that I wasn't a gangly teenager with patchy facial hair and axe body spray and worn out t-shirts for bands that broke up before I was even born?

In the end I settled for a plain grey t-shirt with my cleanest pair of jeans but I threw a blazer on top to look at least semi-professional. I aimed for a late-lunch arrival so she would be there but not swamped. Walking over from the office with the new contract in my regular messenger bag (the briefcase was both too stuffy and impossible to open) gave me a chance to work out a little nervous energy. Once I got to the restaurant, I stood outside for a moment or two to catch my breath.

She was rushing around inside but didn't seem overwhelmed or stressed, just like she was doing fourteen things at once and was used to doing that everyday. Right when I grabbed the door handle, she reached down and picked up a small child, maybe three years old. He had her dark hair and for a moment my breath caught in my chest. What was I walking into?

I started to say something but she surprised me by lifting the child's shirt and blowing a raspberry into his stomach. The gleeful laughter was infectious. Before I knew it I heard myself say, " Is that a service anyone can order because nobody blows raspberries into my tummy anymore?"

Oh god that was creepy. Completely wrong thing to say. What was I thinking? Oh wait, I wasn't. I never think. Fuck fuck fuck-

She turned to look at me with her jaw wide open. The small child in her arms took a look at her open mouth and clapped his hands together. "Aunt Weezy, are you fish?" I couldn't help but laugh.

Once again, before my brain got involved, I reached out, said "She does look fishy, doesn't she, little guy? Here-" and pushed her jaw closed with my finger. She stared at me like I had caught her hand in the cookie jar. Had I majorly crossed a line? Why had I touched her? I'm such an idiotâ

While I enjoyed my spiralling insecurity, she smiled, kissed the kid on the cheek, set him down and told him to go find his father. I took the opportunity while she watched him go to set myself up to hear she had a husband, a kid, and a family dog. Preparing myself for her response, I said, "He's adorable. Is he yours?" With similar smiles and that dark hair I figured she would turn and gush all about him and being a mom and everything I couldn't relate to. Almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth I remembered that I heard him say "aunt." Could itâ?

Louise turned to me with almost panic in her eyes and blurted out "Uh, no. No. God, no." She seemed to be tripping over her words. "That's my nephew. He's Tina's. I don't have kids." That whole disclaimer came out in a single breath. If I was being honest, she seemed as terrified of claiming a child of her own as I would have been. And maybe I'm a dick for thinking it but I was a bit relieved to hear she was child free and seemed happy to be that way. Another similarity between us.

Her face went through a couple of expressions while she stammered out all she said and in the end she mostly seemed flustered, then determined to not ramble anymore. She took a breath and said very politely, as if we didn't have a history going back fifteen years, "Can I help you?"

I felt myself relax a little, surrounded by the familiar smells of the restaurant and just the simple pleasure of being in her company. The banter we once shared came to the surface. "So formal now, Louise? Aw, it's alright. I'm here on business anyway." I reached into my bag and brought out the binder-clipped packet I had drawn up that morning. She started wiping her hands on her apron and looked around for something, then spied the sanitizer bottle up near the register. She ducked behind the counter to squirt some into her palms and rubbed them together furiously. Working in food service was frequently messy, as I recalled. Not that I did much service but I definitely helped make the mess.

I took the time while she cleaned up to watch her. She was taller than I remembered but still fairly short for an adult woman. Her hair was pulled back into a single pony tail and she wasn't wearing any kind of hat. In jeans, sneakers, a green t-shirt and apron, she looked comfortable in her own skin and like she was used to working hard.

Once she was settled and reached for the papers, I handed them to her and grabbed the nearest stool. While she perused the contract, I perused the menu. It had gone through quite a few changes since I was last in! I made a comment to Louise about it while she scanned the contract. "Chicken fried steak burger with country gravyâ Japanese eggplant burger with garlic aioliâ Lamb chop platter on Sundays? You sure have made some changes to the menu." I remembered how inflexible her dad was about the restaurant. "Did you have to kill Bob?"

She barked out a laugh, still reading the papers. "Ha! No. He hired Zeke and eventually Zeke wore him down on switching up our menu and offering some new things. It really helped with business. That's why it's me here today and not Dad. He takes Fridays off now." Well that explained a lot. I was glad Bob let go of the stranglehold he had and accepted help and thinking outside the box. Making menu changes like this would keep regulars coming back to see what was different, a lot like his burger of the day, but branched out from burgers. A more varied menu would appeal to more people. It was a good business decision.

"Well it looks like you are doing great these days. Speaking of business-" I gestured towards the paperwork, "that's your new lease agreement. Two years, new rent- it's a tiny bit higher to match inflation, but you guys should be able to handle it fine." I made it through that lie without laughing, but only barely. Inflation would have risen rent much much higher by now. I knew it and from the way she smirked and looked up through her eyelashes at me, so did she. She quickly signed on the line and handed it back.

I looked at her signature- "Louise Beatrice Belcher? That's so pretty." She rolled her eyes and retorted "Cute, Logan Barry Bush. Is that all you needed?" I gave her the copy of her lease and tucked the rest away in my bag.

"Well, I'm hungry. Could I also get some lunch?" I wanted this interchange to go on as long as it could. We weren't arguing. There was friendship in the air. Possibility peppered every moment. Luckily, Louise seemed pleased with the prospect of me staying since she sent the younger waitress to handle the booths while she stayed with me at the counter.

"Well then, let's start this right. Good afternoon, Sir. Can I get you anything to drink today?" I laughed and ordered water to start.

Thus began a convivial afternoon spent with Louise Belcher. I stayed long past the time my burger was eaten, just talking and joking and generally enjoying myself. I hoped she was having a nice time. She stayed near me almost the entire visit, keeping me company and chatting. It didn't feel forced at all, like she was just placating me. When I left with a smile and a salute, I walked on air all evening.

Could a grown man be giddy? I felt giddy. When I walked in there today I was expecting the cold shoulder at best, not one of the most enjoyable times I had had in months. She wasn't contentious like she was when she was a child. Of course I wasn't a snotty little punk anymore either. The glimpse of our potential future friendship that I had seen when we were young was correct. We did have a lot in common, especially our shared sense of humor. She was a movie buff whereas I was more into music but we both had eclectic and varied tastes. We liked a lot of the same foods, had similar tastes in beer, neither of us was into sports or religion or Star Wars, though we did agree that most of the world bent knee in fealty to one of those three.

I started planning my next visit. Would tomorrow be too soon? Probably. Plus I was going to have to stay late at work tonight to make up for my two hour break today. Next week, then.

I was very much looking forward to next week.