Page 12 of Rosie
“Ooh! That’s my Rosie-girl.” Grandad rubbed his hands together in glee. “Just don’t tell Gram, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She winked at the old man as Gram came back out of the bedroom, patting down her short gray curls.
“So lovely of you to bring us lunch, dear.” They all sat around the small table, Grandad said grace, and then they dug into the soup and salads.
“Perfect day for soup,” Grandad commented. “Now let’s see what all this rabbit food is.” He winked at Rosie, who just shook her head.
“They have great salads,” Gram said in a huff. “And look, they even put bacon on it for you.”
“Rats, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
Rosie giggled as Gram rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her grandparents had been married over fifty years, and they had such a great relationship. A pang of jealousy hit her, and she focused on her salad. Why couldn’t she find a love like that?
Oh, right. She’d have to belookingfirst.
Gram saved her from her introspection. “What’s new, Rosie? How are the girls?”
Rosie patted her lips with her napkin and told her grandparents about going to the spa for Mia’s birthday, and Olivia moving out.
“I thought you all signed a lease at the same time, right? Are you all moving?”
“No, no. Olivia was planning to move in June, but her brother needed a place to stay for his internship, so she’s subletting the apartment to him and she’s moving early.”
“What a nice sister. What’s his internship?”
Rosie shrugged. She couldn’t remember what Matt’s major was, or if Olivia had ever mentioned it. “I think she said he’s working in a restaurant. She was really excited for him, apparently it’s a big deal.” She looked at her watch. There were still a few hours before she had to go home and get ready for work.
“How about a game ofUnobefore I leave?”
Matt pulled into the parking lot of the Orange Blossom and wiped his sweaty palms down his dress pants. He’d emailed the forms to Bruce, the manager, after he got his acceptance notification, but he’d brought hard copies, just in case. For most students in his program, the internship would have been completed last summer. But he had changed his major right as classes started in the fall, and he was playing catch-up. He’d had to get special accommodations to take the four classes for this semester online so that he could graduate in May. What a pain in the ass. But it would all be worth it in the end. He didn’t want to be a fifth-year senior.
This internship, or field study, as the class chart called it, could either pave the way or hold him back. After three hundred work hours, he’d be set. It averaged out to twenty hours a week, and Bruce had promised he’d work around Matt’s class schedule. The class information was online, but he still had deadlines and tests.
Matt grabbed his new lunch box from the front seat of his car. His mom had insisted on ordering it at one of those “parties” she went to where other women sold stuff out of a catalog. She’d gotten his initials embroidered on the gray fabric. It was boring, but at least it wouldn’t get mistaken for someone else’s food. And he didn’t think the Kylo Ren lunch box he’d used in high school would be appropriate anymore.
He made his way through the door made of black metal and glass, into the modern space. Black walls and ceiling made it feel more intimate and contrasted with the pale wood chairs and tables. The host stand was clad in the same wood, a chalkboard on the front painted with the restaurant logo. Edison bulbs inside clear glass bubbles hung low over the tables. They’d light the space when it was dark, but for now, the daylight streamed through the wall of windows at the front of the restaurant.
“Can I help you?” A bar back looked up from where he’d set down a keg behind the bar.
“I’m Matt. I’m Bruce’s new intern.”
“Nice to meet you, Matt.” He came around the bar and shook Matt’s hand. “I’m Damir, I’ll take you back to the office.”
He followed Damir past all the tables with their chairs turned upside down on top. They slipped behind the swinging steel doors of the kitchen, where the clatter of knives meant prep work for lunch was already under way. Damir led him down a short hallway, past where the restrooms were being cleaned, to a door marked simply, “Manager.”
Damir knocked loudly. “Yo, Bruce! Your new intern is here.”
“Come on in!”
He opened the door for Matt and motioned for him to go inside.
“See ya around, kid. I gotta finish stocking the bar.” Damir waved and walked away as Matt slid inside the office.
It was crowded, to say the least. Bruce sat behind a big desk that was covered in paperwork. File cabinets almost as tall as Matt stood sentry at the door. Bruce was on the phone, but he pulled a pile out from the side and revealed a chair, gesturing for Matt to sit.
“I’m so sorry, I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Bruce said, holding his hand over the receiver. He didn’t look that much older than Matt, maybe in his thirties, with a shaved head and a russet goatee. He was wearing a black polo shirt and slacks, and Matt realized he’d overdressed under his winter coat.
“Yes, I’m still here. No, you were supposed to deliver the crabtoday, nottomorrow. Alphonse won’t work with anything less than the freshest seafood. Yes, please get your manager.”
