“But Walt has supported us for years.”
“Sure, but one man ordering cheap breakfast every morning doesn’t pay the bills. Look at the financial reports.”
So I looked.
The numbers were good.
And I ignored my instincts.
I regret that decision more than I can explain.
Then Mrs. Kowalczyk stopped coming.
I didn’t discover her absence until nearly two months later.
When I called her house, her granddaughter answered.
“Grandma’s fine,” she said. “She just doesn’t want to eat out anymore.”
That troubled me.
Mrs. Kowalczyk had been visiting every Sunday since Rosie’s opened.
Something was wrong.
One evening, I stopped by the original restaurant after closing to collect paperwork.
My longtime cook, Luis Ortega, was cleaning the grill.
Luis had worked with me since opening day.
He was in his sixties, quiet, dependable, and one of the few people who could prepare my mother’s soup exactly as she had.
