Cafe Romance (47 page)

After months of intensive training at the school of performing arts, Roxanne had managed to pick up a minor acting role in a low budget movie, as she had shared with Kurt over the phone.

“Oh, you’ll never guess where I am going to make my acting debut at, Kurt,” she blurted out loudly over the phone. “
Café Le Soir
, I believe it is. They’re using the restaurant for a few scenes in a major movie and they need some extras, two or three with speaking roles. And-I-have-one-of-them!” she sang.

“That’s great!” Kurt exclaimed. “You know, there was some talk about making a movie there, some time ago. But I never heard anything more about it after that. Strange, Yvette didn’t mention it to me, this time around.”

“Well, they’re going to start shooting within the next two weeks. Wish me luck!”

“I certainly will,” Kurt promised.

“By the way, thanks for those bodyguards. Don approached me about a week ago and threatened me with bodily harm but within minutes of pressing that panic button you gave me, three or four cars pulled up out of nowhere and out came the biggest and meanest looking men I’ve ever seen, though a few of them were rather handsome looking. I think Don nearly crapped in his pants when he saw them pull up. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Well, that’s good,” Kurt chuckled. “I’m glad I could be of help to you. And good luck with your acting debut at the restaurant. I’m sure I’ll see you there. If I do, I’ll make sure I introduce you to Yvette, okay?”

“Sure, Kurt,” Roxanne replied, nodding into the phone. “I guess I will finally get my chance to meet your other love – “

“Roxanne, Yvette’s my only love.”

“Of course. But I’ll leave that one alone.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you Roxanne, I do love you. But I am
in
love with Yvette.”

“Look handsome, just be sweet! And take care!  I love you too, Kurt. Bye!”

K
urt and Yvette married that spring. His brother, the honorable Senator, officiated. To their delight Juanita served as
Maid Of Honor
and Earl was the
Best Man
. Terrence, Yvette’s son, gave her away. It was a modest wedding, though one attended by both dignitaries and commoners, who were more than prominent in his eyes. People Magazine was on hand to do another article on Pennsylvania's $50 million dollar man - a man who would go on to craftily parlayed Yvette’s impressive five-star restaurant franchise into an additional $2 million dollars a year profit-making machine. 

For their honeymoon, the two traveled abroad to several Mediterranean coastal port-of-calls. Rhodes, Greece
;
Venice, Italy
;
Lisbon, Portugal
;
Alexandria, Egypt
;
Palma Majorca, Spain and the port city of Toulon, France were all prominently listed on their itinerary as must see.

Upon their return to Florida, Yvette found a buyer for her condo. She had also turned in her four-week notice of resignation at the
Café
.  

Now free of distraction, the two lovers, turned husband and wife, turned business partners, planned ahead for their future. They were not content to rest on their laurels. There was a world out there to conquer, and people to assist.

Keeping along the concept of
Café Le Soir,
they formed a partnership named Spirit Of Cooperation, Inc. They christened their first restaurant
Almond Street Café
. Two years later they opened two more
Almond Street Café
restaurants, one in Orlando and one in West Palm Beach. Wanting to cover all the bases, they invested in gold, stocks and bonds and mutual funds, too. Real estate followed.

After reading an article in a business journal, about a fresh new sensation on the fashion scene, named Maria Lopez, who was taking her company public, Kurt made a few inquiring phone calls to see if it was his former client. And it was! Besides, he could never forget her line of clothing, Hoo-Chi Fashions. He immediately called his broker and bought 4,000 shares of Maria’s stock at $12 per share. It would turn out to be one of his most profitable investments to date.

Six years, and two children later, they took their restaurant business public. By then they had amassed a total of eighteen gourmet restaurants in nearly every major city stretching from Florida up through Virginia, and the mid-south. Each business employed up to thirty-six people.

Wanting to spend more time with each other and their two children, the couple eventually sold the company for a healthy profit, four years later.

Altruistic to a fault, Kurt and Yvette allocated fifteen percent of their profit, from the sale, to local charities. He used some of their funds to open up a fourth tutoring center. The power couple firmly believed that education was the main ingredient to a successful life. With eleven years of raw data to draw upon, their tutoring centers appeared to support this view.

On the eve of their 12th anniversary, they shared a quiet and private moment, at
Café Le Soir
, the place where they cultivated their love. Under the soft warm glow of candle-lights, the couple enjoyed a delicious gourmet meal. A quartet played soft mellow piano jazz in the background. 

Delighting in the moment, Kurt looked over at his lovely wife of twelve years as if he were photographing her with his eyes. His love for her had not wavered any. She was still as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on her. And she was enthralled by what she saw, too. Kurt, who was dressed smartly in a black tux, was just as handsome as the day he rescued her from her attackers. Twelve years of marriage served only to intensify their love, devotion, and happiness.

The next evening, they attended a more prominent and formal gathering, in their honor, at a luxuriously draped ballroom at the Marriott Hotel. A chamber orchestra performed vibrantly, in addition to the Wynton Marsalis Jazz Quartet. In attendance were several distinguished civic leaders, former business associates, the mayor, Yvette's mother and sister, and her best friend, Juanita and her sister Nola, to name a few.

After the gala event Kurt and Yvette returned to their suburban estate and crawled into bed. It had been a long event-filled day. A magnificent and memorable one, at that.

When the last of the children entered college the two successful retirees embarked upon a cross-country tour in their new luxury motorhome,
Moonbeam II
, taking in such notable sights as the Grand Canyons, Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone Park, Yosemite National Park, and Lookout Mountain, in Tennessee.

In the driver’s seat of their forty-two foot land cruiser was a very reformed Chris, Kurt’s once delinquent second cousin from New Jersey. Discovering that Chris' passion was driving long haul trucks, he helped his once gang-banging cousin in relocating to Florida and assisted him financially when he enrolled in an eighteen-wheeler driving school in Tampa. It was in Tampa that Chris met his wife Porsha, of four years, one year after moving to Florida. Porsha hailed from Tampa. She was along too, for the tour.

Six long weeks after they began their nation-wide tour the foursome returned to the familiar palm trees and sandy beaches of sunny Florida. It had been a wonderful excursion, the four snapping photos of one another, buying gifts for friends and family members, wading in resort swimming pools and hot tubs, going horse-back riding, walking hand in hand, along narrow wilderness trails, and making new RV friends. The couple had prospered well and was living the American dream, a lifestyle many only get to dream about.

The following spring the foursome logged a similar six-week tour in
Moonbeam II
and
Blue Rhapsody
, Chris and Porsha's new 38-foot luxury motorhome, a gift from Kurt and Yvette, up to the historical northeastern United States
:
Washington, DC
;
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
;
Buffalo, New York
;
Providence, Rhode Island
;
Boston, Massachusetts
;
and Portland, Maine. As soon as the foursome returned to Florida they went right to work planning their itinerary for the following year. There was a lot to see in America and they wanted to see it all.

I
t was winter outside as the two sat around gazing into the warm flames radiating out from their fireplace as they enjoyed a quiet moment together. Red hot ambers glowed, some floated, from beneath the burning pile of hickory wood as they reflected on their life and accomplishments. A slow and mellow jazz tune entitled,
It’s Only a Paper Moon
, by Bill Charlap, played in the background. It was soft and almost hypnotic. At one point, the two made a toast and sipped on red wine. A small tray of diced cheese sat less than an arm’s length away. Their love was still passionate, intense and very real after all of these years.

              “We’ve really have been fortunate,” he said. “To have had the opportunity to be in a position to help others as much as we have been able to and to also travel the world and this great country. It really has made life worth living as a person of endless means.”

              “Yes, we’ve been blessed, I must say,” she added. “I sit here and still cannot believe that all we have experienced is anything other than a wonderful dream.”

              “Well, believe it, baby. It’s not a dream. Besides, things are only going to get better,” he promised her, as his hand gently stroke the soft lines of her back, neck, and shoulders.

The loud ringing of the phone abruptly broke into their calm and relaxed atmosphere. Who could be phoning them at midnight, they pondered?

Kurt rose and walked over to the coffee table to take the call. It was a sheriff’s deputy calling to let the couple know that there was a break-in at one of their tutoring centers. A few computers had been taken and some printers and probably several laptops, too.

Yes, times had changed over the years, Kurt remembered telling Yvette recently. Crime was on the rise in some of the areas of their tutoring centers. Almost monthly, they had to paint over gang-like symbols and vile and sometimes vulgar graffiti repeatedly placed on the building’s outer walls by neighborhood teens or replace a window broken by a thrown object.

“Who is it?” Yvette asked.

He put his hand over the receiver. “It’s the police.”

“The police?” she mouthed back.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be over right over,” he told the law enforcement officer. Turning, he shared the grim news with Yvette. “Another break-in. This time at the main center.”

“Want me to tag along with you dear?”

“No, that’s all right,” he assured her. “It’s very cold out there and it’s expected to get even colder.”

“I just do not understand why young people have to tear down the very community we’re trying to build up,” she pondered aloud.

Kurt reflected on her statement in silent repose. Then he spoke.

“Yvette, I believe that when young folk look up at their parents, the world scene, and at their leaders they see hypocrisy and they see despair and hopelessness. Good role models, I believe, are rare to come by. They’re out there. But they’re definitely underreported in the media.”

“Yes, crime, scandalous people, and bad news sell, as they say,” she added solemnly.

Grabbing his coat from the valet closet next to the entrance door, he heaved it on, gave her a warm kiss and a sensuous and manly gaze. He turned and walked out the door.

Going to a side window, she watched as he started the Lincoln Navigator and drive off. Though he could not see her, she waved.

Turing, she noticed that the jazz CD had come to an end. It was a brief but poignant moment for her as she turned around again and looked out the window. But the SUV had vanished into the still and darkness of night.

Three patrol cars were still at the crime scene upon his arrival. Kurt parked and got out. Along the way he was approached by a sheriff’s deputy. In one hand he was holding an aluminum-like thermos jug. Probably had hot coffee in it, he reasoned. Or perhaps hot chocolate.

“Mr. Douglass, I presume,” the officer said, reaching out a gloved hand.

Kurt shook the officer’s hand.

“I’m Deputy Stevenson,” he said, his alert but wearisome eyes revealing that it had been a long night for him. “Sorry to have you come out so late and for this. Please, follow me.”

The two went inside of the cold building.

There was broken glass by a rear window, which appeared to be the entry point for the burglars. Thankfully, the alarm system had been activated by the burglars’ entry which probably left them with little or no time to venture up to the second floor to vandalize it.

After giving the officer a list of items missing and a copy of his office equipment inventory, he waited for clearance from the police, then went about boarding up the rear window area. Because of past break-ins, he always stored extra plywood in the building for such events.

“Here’s the number to our office,” the officer said later, handing Kurt a business card. “We’ll fax you a copy of the final police report in the morning once you request it.”

“Thank you officer,” Kurt said, as he reactivated the alarm system and closed and locked the door behind them.

Glancing down at his watch, he could see that it was a little after 5:00AM. Yawning, he turned on the ignition. A few blocks away, he pulled the SUV into a convenience store parking lot. He had a taste for some hot Cappuccino.

A clerk was behind the counter. The clerk spoke, seemed friendly, but eyed him closely. There was one other person in the store. A young Hispanic type. Late teens. He was wearing one of those thick hooded jackets and seemed to be looking at products on an aisle shelf in the rear of the store.

As he grabbed a large cup and placed it under the Cappuccino machine, Kurt surveyed the store. The young man had moved towards him now. His pants hung well below his rump, he had noticed on his first observation, and his hair was unkempt.

The youth gazed in his direction but said nothing in passing. With cup in hand, Kurt walked over to the doughnut display, did a quick appraisal, then grabbed a plastic tong and withdrew two glazed doughnuts from the glass enclosure, placing them in a clear plastic bag. The clerk had assured him that the doughnuts had just been dropped off before Kurt arrived at the store.