After he left, Paige looked at me.
“He’s right, isn’t he?”
I stared at the door.
“Yeah. He is.”
***
The next morning, I reviewed our expenses and arranged to sell the unused delivery van. Paige joined me.
“Yeah. He is.”
“We could shorten our hours,” I said.
“And hear Cedric’s catering idea?” Paige asked.
I called him.
He agreed to come after work.
He arrived with his own figures and details of catering customers who’d already shown interest.
I called him.
“I could use the kitchen during quiet hours,” he said. “I’d pay into the business and take a share of the profits.”
“How much would you invest?” I asked.
He told me.
It was more than I’d expected.
He told me.
I remembered Damian’s warning. Was Cedric doing this because he wanted to, or because he felt he owed us?
“That’s a lot of money, son.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to hear the whole plan.”
“Why didn’t you show us?”
“Every time I brought up helping, you changed the subject.”
“That’s a lot of money, son.”
I set down the papers.
“Then let’s start again.”
We worked through the costs together.
I offered to sell the van and put my remaining savings toward the debt.
Paige suggested reducing the menu.
I set down the papers.
The next morning, with four days left before the sale, we presented our plan to the lender.
It was rejected.
“Your projected income doesn’t justify these expenses,” the employee explained.
I stared at the figures.
“Then what are our options?”
It was rejected.
“Reduce your operating costs further, find additional financing, or prepare for the sale.”
I looked at Paige.
We could sell the restaurant ourselves before the foreclosure sale if we found a buyer in time. But we’d lose the place we’d spent 18 years building.
Cedric studied our figures.
I looked at Paige.
“What if we close the dining room three evenings a week and use the kitchen for catering?”
I almost refused. That meant changing the restaurant I’d worked so hard to preserve.
Then I looked at him.
“Show me how the numbers would work.”
That evening, I called Cedric back to the restaurant.
I almost refused.
“I’ve revised the figures,” I told him. “Your catering business would take over the kitchen three evenings a week. We’d share ownership, profits, and decisions.”
Cedric studied the proposal.
“You’d really give up control of your kitchen?”
“I’ve revised the figures.”
“Apparently, I’m getting too old to run everything myself.”
He smiled, but I wasn’t finished.
“Damian worried you felt you owed us. I need to know this is what you want.”
Cedric looked at Paige.
I wasn’t finished.
“Mom, do you want me here?”
She stepped forward.
“I’ve wanted you here since the night you walked through that door.”
He hugged her.
Then he turned to me.
He hugged her.
“I want this, Dad. The restaurant. The catering. All of it.”
I held out my hand.
“Then let’s do it properly.”
He shook it.
“Partners?”
“I want this, Dad.”
“Partners.”
Then he turned toward me.
“Can I still tell you when your cooking needs work?”
“Only if you’re prepared to wash dishes afterward.”
He laughed.
“Partners.”
