A Kind of Romance Read Free Page B

She can’t,” he whispered sadly.
    “I’m sorry, Dad. That was uncalled for. I—”
    “No, no. It’s fine. I meddle. I get that. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
    I should have been relieved, right? He said I was right. He said he understood. But I knew this man. I’d done a version of this dance for over thirty-one fucking years. I’d just lobbed a softball over home plate, and he was about to knock this baby out of the park. I waited one heartbeat, two, and then….
    “Just take me to the store Thursday. That’s all I ask, son.”
    What could I say?
     
     
    MAYBE I was a sucker. Maybe I was a good son. Or maybe I’d grown up on a steady diet of guilt and was hopelessly unable to unshackle myself from its fierce hold. The moment I heard any combination of the words family , your mother , or all I ask , I was doomed. So the following Thursday morning after I’d put in five hours at the office, I had Hector pick me up downtown to traverse the midmorning traffic to Brooklyn and then turn back to the city. I was tempted to have Hector chauffeur Dad and meet them at the bagel store, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. No part of his request was convenient for me. I had an important job. I had clients who counted on me to make big money decisions. They didn’t want to hear about my family woes, and they wouldn’t be impressed I’d selflessly taken time from my busy schedule for the second time in one week to deal with family BS.
    Truthfully, I was able to conduct almost all of my business from the backseat of my tricked-out Mercedes sedan. With my laptop, two cell phones, and a television streaming international financial news, I could be anywhere and get a shitload of work done. However, Bowery Bagels wasn’t where I wanted to be. I was itching to get back to my computer after the twenty-five-minute return trip into the city. I did my best not to glance at my watch when Hector pulled in front of the store on Bowery. Instead I nodded dutifully and grunted in response to Dad’s never-ending story about his next-door neighbors, Gil and Gloria, bringing by too much food.
    “They mean well, I know. The fruit baskets are lovely, but how much fruit can I eat? There’s only me now. You’ll have to come back to the house to get one for yourself. I’ll give you the one with pineapple. You like pineapple, don’t you, son?”
    “Sure.” I turned to him when we arrived at our destination. “Hey, I’ll come in with you for a few minutes, but then I’m gonna have Hector take me back to the office. He has instructions to take you anywhere else you need to go… as long as you don’t overdo it.”
    “What about lunch? We should go to lunch. Benjamin might want to come with us and—”
    “Don’t start.” I guided him by his elbow, unsurprised when he smacked my hand away. His way of reminding me he was still the parent, I thought with a sigh as I reached for the door.
    The Bowery location was by far the smallest of all the stores. It had been remodeled recently with crisp black-and-white modern accents. The floor was a wide checkerboard tile that complemented the smaller checked tiles along the back prep wall. A long, L-shaped marble counter with black beadboard wainscoting featured a glass enclosure with three shelves for the many baskets of freshly made bagels. There was an open refrigerator with cold drinks and cream cheese adjacent to the counter. Three small café tables with bistro chairs were on one side of the store under an impressive photo gallery documenting the Gulden family’s prolific history in the New York City bagel business. A floating bar with stools ran the length of the huge picture windows in front so patrons could enjoy a quick breakfast while people-watching before getting back to work. It was a welcoming atmosphere, with delicious smells and a notoriously friendly staff.
    Four customers greeted my father the moment we stepped inside. I smiled wanly and shook hands with them all,