“She’s not all about the money. I think you may just have
surprised her. What’s it been? Thirty-five years?”
“Thirty-five years last month.” Nick nodded. “Dad’s at the cemetery right now changing out the flowers at his headstone. He never misses a week.”
Nick sighed then changed the subject. “So, how are you doing
on the new campaign?”
“Half of the office likes it, half hate it. Bongero thinks we don’t charge enough to get what everybody likes.”
“Great,” he grumbled. “So what are you doing for dinner?” “Well, I’m not going with you—am I?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay, then I think I’ll take Bella to her favorite dining
establishment.” “Where’s that?” “White Castle.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Nick laughed. “What can I say? She likes White Castle.”
“Jer, you got to take this girl to the next level. At least to the Olive Garden.”
“Oh yeah. If your dad finds out either of us ever went to Olive Garden, we’re both in deep shit. You realize that, right?”
“You speak the truth, my friend.”
“Hey, good luck tonight. No funny business.” “I can handle myself. You just enjoy the Castle.” “Oh, I will. I will.”
Nick admired Jerry’s carefree lifestyle. “But, White Castle?” he asked aloud, reaching for the phone to call Fazio’s.
*****
Nick arrived at Fazio’s at six forty-five. The aroma of Italian spices steeped in garlic seeped through the doors and into the parking lot. The restaurant had been a fixture on the north side of town for many years.
Old-world Italy permeated the restaurant, from the pictures on the walls to the music in the background. The food was known for miles around, and people flocked to Fazio’s to delight in what Joe was cooking in his big pots in the kitchen.