Page 64 of Sister of the Bride

Find an apartment (in this market!)

Pack up your childhood home and all your family’s earthly possessions

Say goodbye to the only home you’ve ever known

And it all needs to happen very fast. Because Wanda Barnes was exactly right. As soon as our building hit the market, we were flooded with inquiries. But because Mom and Nonna are hoping the buyer will keep the restaurant open, we haven’t accepted one yet.

That’s what today is for.

If Kelleher comes through, they’ll buy the building and the business, continuing to operate Marino’s while they rent out the apartments upstairs to new tenants.

As I wait at the hostess stand, alternating between straightening the stack of menus for the seventeenth time and checking the time on my phone, I think back to Toby’s warning not to do anything weird. I definitely don’t plan to. I couldn’t do that to Mom and Nonna. But that doesn’t mean I have to smile while a business bro pokes through my restaurant like it’s an estate sale. I don’t need to be gracious when he shows up to my professional funeral.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Kelleher acquiring Marino’s is actually a dream scenario. They’re local, their restaurants are well respected, and they can certainly afford to buy the place. But if this meeting goes well, it means I’ll be one step closer to saying goodbye to my childhood home. To all I have left of my Dad.

But if I fuck things up, Kelleher could pass and Marino’s could wind up being some Chuck E. Cheese monstrosity that will forever taint our family legacy.

It’s a real lose-lose for me, huh?

The door opens, letting in the light and sounds of Charles Street, and a guy a few years older than me ambles in. He’s wearing a suit, but his jacket is draped over his arm, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and he’s carrying a well-worn leather messenger bag. If he’d just come in to order the lasagna before everything turned upside down, I would’ve already be plotting how I could get his number. But I already have his number, printed at the bottom of the emails we’ve traded regarding the sale of my entire life.

Cool cool cool.

“Hi, you must be Pippin,” he says, sticking out his hand and giving me a Kennedy-esque grin. “I’m Charlie. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I reply. A lie, of course, but I’m not going to fuck this up. If I’m going to arrange the transfer of my entire life into someone else’s portfolio, then I’m going to do a damn good job of it. So I direct him to the back banquette. “I’ve got us set up back here.”

I lead him to the booth, where I’ve set up my laptop as well as a stack of files and binders all hauled out from Dad’s office. At the sight of all the paper, Charlie raises his eyebrows.

“I know, it’s not the most environmentally conscious, but ever since Oyster Island got attacked by Russian hackers in that massive small business blitz, I keep paper copies of all my most important files. I print double-sided to keep the footprint small, two pages per side, and I’ve got it all color coded and organized for quick access,” I say. “Don’t get me wrong, everything’s also saved on hard drives and backed up to the cloud, but you can never be too careful, especially when your business is in perishables.”

Charlie sits down and starts flipping through binders, nodding appreciatively. “That’s actually really smart. Kelleher got caught up in that same attack, and we ended up paying the hundred and fifty thousand they demanded,” he says. “With payroll across all the restaurants, it was just too much data to lose. And insurance paid for some.”

“Well, Marino’s is prepared for that and more,” I say, launching into an explanation of the ways in which I’ve streamlined back-end administration. As I talk, I forget that I’m trying to convince this guy to take my restaurant, becausethisis the part of the job I actually love. Don’t get me wrong, the cooking is in my blood, but it’s hard, dirty work. The organization, all the paperwork, all the stuff Dad hated most? That’s where I live.

“I’m really impressed with your systems,” Charlie says. “I can see the benefits right here in your accounts. You’ve certainly maximized profit for a restaurant this size.”

“Well, it helps that we own the building outright.”

“True, but even factoring that in, you’re doing better than a lot of restaurants in similar positions, especially these days. I see a lot of family restaurants, even well-loved ones, that get run like hobbies. But you’ve really done the hard work here, and it shows.”

“Thank you,” I say, my cheeks warming. Nobody’s really ever noticed all my paper nerdery before, much less complimented it.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are your plans for after the sale? Are you hoping to stay on and run the restaurant?”

“Oh god, no,” I say, then quickly try to walk back the outburst.Don’t be weird, Pippin.“I mean, I think Kelleher is a great fit for Marino’s, and I’d be proud for the business to join your group, but I don’t think…” I trail off, not wanting to blow the whole meeting by saying something rude.

“Once you’ve been the boss of a place, it’s pretty hard to step back?”

“Exactly,” I say, though it’s a much more elegant way to put it than I probably would. I was thinking more along the lines ofI can’t watch a stranger raise my baby. “I’m still trying to figure out what my next move will be.”

“Well, you have a real talent for this kind of work. I have a buddy, he runs this consulting firm that specializes in helping floundering restaurants. Sort of like Gordon Ramsey but without all the yelling. I think you’d be a really good fit. I could pass on your info if you’re interested.”

I start to decline as a reflex, but then I realize a couple of things. One, I need a job. And two, that sounds like a job I’d be really good at.

“That would be great,” I say. “I don’t have a résumé at the moment.”

---