Page 10 of Happy Endings

Keisha’s face fell. She walked over to him.

“Andre, we’ll figure something out.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around him before he could stand up. “We always have. Just like Mama did.”

His sister was the more optimistic one in their family. Figuring out a life without Mama had been hard. Keisha had missed too many classes when Mama was diagnosed with breast cancer. Since she’d passed, Andre had tried to shoulder as much responsibility as he could so Keisha could focus on school.

“It needs to be soon. The fryers are working for now, but one is going to break again. We can’t afford to lose a fryer.” Seeing the worry in his sister’s hazel eyes, he forced a smile. “It’ll be fine, Keisha.”

“It’s not that.” She sniffed and blinked rapidly, as if she was holding back tears. “I don’t want anything to happen to Fred.”

Who the hell was Fr— He’d forgotten she’d named their double fryers after the Weasley twins from her favorite childhood books. Before he could respond, she broke out in laughter.

“Oh my God, you should have seen your face, Andre!” Keisha doubled over. “Why do you think I named him Fred and not George? That one has always been on the fritz.”

“You’re such a nerd.” He pulled one of her curls and let it spring back up.

“Stop it. Mama thought it was clever.” She pushed some papers aside and pulled herself onto the desk. “I miss Mama so much. Some days, I’m minding my own business, thenbam. I hear someone talking and it sounds almost like her voice, but not quite.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Like I don’t want to replace this sorry excuse for a phone because she asked Santa to buy her a fancy cordless one knowing full well—”

“We were supposed to buy it for her.” Keisha finished his sentence. “She hinted about it for weeks!”

“Even though she could have bought it for herself. She worked so hard to provide for us.” And now he was trying his best to pick up where she left off.

“You know it was easier for her to help others than it was to treat herself. Like serving community dinner every Monday,” said Keisha.

Mama had been cooking a community dinner every Monday night since she opened the restaurant twenty-three years ago. Back then the neighborhood moved at a slower pace, and many folks hit hard times. She couldn’t bear to let folks go hungry. Anyone who walked through that door on Monday was served. No questions asked.

“People thought she was crazy for giving out meals every week. I was only six years old then, but even I could sense the judgment behind the gossip. You know what she said, when I asked her about it?”

Keisha had heard this story many times over, especially since Mama passed. But she gestured for him to continue.

“Mama said, ‘When people break bread together, they break down their walls and talk to each other. Never forget, Andre—’”

“Food is family,” they finished together, and smiled at each other.

Keisha’s eyes were glossy with tears. She pushed off the desk. “Speaking of food, have you had lunch?”

He shook his head.

“We can’t brainstorm ideas to save the restaurant on an empty stomach.”

“I made some shrimp etouffee this morning.” Andre had been so nervous about the call with the bank, he’d rummaged around in the walk-in fridge for something to cook. Chopping and stirring helped keep his mind off things he couldn’t control. “Want some?”

“Yes! What did you do to it this time?” Keisha pulled him out of the chair.

“Why do you always ask if I did something to my cooking, like I messed up Mama’s recipes?”

“I said it that way because I’m excited! You need to spend more time there instead of at the bar.” She pushed him out of the office and into the restaurant kitchen. “I like your twist on her food.”

“She didn’t.” He spoke quietly, trying to hide his disappointment. All his life, Mama had groomed him to take over for whenever she was ready to retire. After he graduated high school, he joined Mama full time at the restaurant. He thought he could add his own touch to the menu, but she was adamant about keeping it the same.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t see how creative your recipes are.” Keisha bit her lip. “I’m also sorry you felt you had to leave DC in order to be yourself. I should have spoken up for you.”

“It’s all in the past, Keisha.” When Mama was sick, none of that had mattered anymore. If he changed her menu now, he’d disrespect her memory and hard work. “Besides, people love her food. Why change it?”

“When I’m not starving, I’ll tell you why we should change things up. But right now, I want to hear about your etouffee.”

Andre breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t push about changing the menu. It was easier to let Luis do all the cooking. Their cook had worked alongside his mom for years and knew her recipes by heart. If Andre were in the kitchen, he’d be tempted to try new ingredients or techniques. Instead, he wrote them in his notebook and only made these dishes for himself. And Keisha.

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