Chương 6
“Good,” he said. “David will make a room available.”
“What’s in the boxes?”
“Event records from the manager’s office.”
“Marco left them?”
“He left some. Others were locked in a cabinet.”
“You opened it?”
“I own the cabinet.”
“That sounded like Marco.”
Antonio’s hands stilled on the box.
Maria sipped her tea.
Sophie wished she could take the words back, not because they were false but because they were too easy.
Antonio said, “You’re right.”
The response disarmed her more than anger would have.
He continued, “Ownership does not make every action wise.”
“No. Just possible.”
“Usually.”
A door opened near the bar, and Luis entered carrying a grocery bag.
“I brought bagels,” he announced. “The reporters asked if I was the heroic bartender. I said I was a waiter and they lost interest.”
Priya followed him. “They asked if Antonio and Sophie are dating.”
Sophie nearly dropped her phone.
Maria buttered a piece of toast she had brought from somewhere. “People are vulgar when bored.”
Antonio looked toward the covered windows. “No one speaks to the media until we know what happened.”
Luis placed the bagels on the bar. “Is that a rule?”
“A request.”
Sophie glanced at him.
He noticed. “David has been improving my vocabulary.”
Over the next hour, twelve employees arrived. Some came because they wanted to report missing money. Others came because they feared the restaurant would never reopen and wanted to be seen cooperating. One bartender had worked for Marco for fourteen years and insisted he had always been fair. A former server appeared uninvited with a folder of pay stubs. Renzo came because a fish supplier was threatening to cancel the account.
The room filled with competing versions of Bellarosa.
Marco had taken tips.
Marco had loaned employees cash.
Marco had cut shifts as punishment.
Marco had covered for people when their children were sick.
Marco had charged “breakage fees” for cracked glasses.
Marco had once paid for a dishwasher’s dental emergency.
Marco had altered event distributions.
Marco had kept the restaurant open when Vincent DeLuca stopped answering vendor calls.
People spoke about him as though he had been several men who shared one suit.
Evelyn arrived at eleven twenty. She wore a gray raincoat despite the dry weather and carried a canvas bag printed with the name of a public library. She asked Sophie to introduce her to anyone who wished to speak. Then she requested a private room that did not contain company recording equipment.
David Kim showed them the wine room.
Evelyn looked at the camera in the ceiling.
“It’s inactive,” David said.
“Cover it.”
He found a linen napkin and a roll of painter’s tape.
Sophie spent ninety minutes describing tip sheets, deductions, and the private party that had started the argument. Evelyn did not react dramatically. She asked dates, names, amounts, and who had been present. When Sophie could not remember, Evelyn told her not to guess.
“Did Antonio know your termination was coming?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Did he know about the tip deductions?”
“Maria told him about one.”
“Did he discuss the restaurant purchase with you before yesterday?”
“No.”
“Did he offer you anything afterward?”
“He told me to stay visible.”
Evelyn stopped writing. “What did that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you take it as an instruction?”
“At first.”
“And now?”
Sophie thought about the video, the reporters, and the faces in the dining room.
“Now it feels like a warning.”
Evelyn turned a page. “To whom?”
“I’m still deciding.”
When they left the wine room, Antonio was arguing quietly with Renzo near the kitchen.
“The lender requires a revised operating plan within ten business days,” Antonio said.
“The lender does not have veal thawing.”
“I understand the veal.”
“No, you understand a spreadsheet cell labeled inventory loss. I understand that the supplier will not extend credit if he sees us closed on television.”
Antonio rubbed the scar at his eyebrow with one thumb. It was the first nervous habit Sophie had seen from him.
“What do you need today?”
“Twenty-eight thousand to bring current the produce, fish, linen, and wine accounts.”
“That much is overdue?”
“More. That is what prevents immediate damage.”
“Send the invoices to David.”
“I sent them to Marco for four months.”
“I’m not Marco.”
Renzo’s face did not soften. “Everyone says this during the first week.”
Sophie walked past them toward Maria.
On the marble table, the ownership agreement had been replaced by invoices. The pill organizer remained. Maria had arranged paper clips into a line beside it.
“You should go home,” Sophie said.
“My son says the reporters will follow.”
“They’ll follow whenever you leave.”
“Then I should stay until they become hungry.”
“They’re across the street from a deli.”
Maria looked disappointed by this information.
Sophie sat beside her.
Across the room, Evelyn spoke with Luis and Priya. Antonio stood alone at the bar reading vendor statements. He had put his jacket back on but had forgotten the pocket square, which lay folded beside the register.
“Did he really move the closing because of me?” Sophie asked.
Maria knew who she meant.
“He moved it because of Marco.”
“That isn’t what he said.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you correct him?”
“My son was angry.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Maria tapped one paper clip with her fingernail. “Antonio is a man who dislikes arriving too late. It has made him successful and occasionally unbearable.”
“What was he late for?”
Maria’s gaze remained on the paper clips.
Sophie waited.
Finally Maria said, “His father’s last morning.”
The kitchen hummed in the distance as refrigerators cycled on. Someone ran water into a metal sink.
“Antonio was in Philadelphia negotiating his first hotel purchase,” Maria continued. “His father had chest pain. We both believed it was indigestion. By the time I called again, Antonio was already in a meeting. He silenced the phone.”
“I’m sorry.”
May you like
“He has been trying to answer every call before it rings ever since.”
Sophie watched Antonio turn an invoice over as though an answer might be printed on the back.
