Chapter 7 - The Door Stayed Open
Six months later, the empty lot no longer stood empty.
A brick building occupied the corner again.
Above the front entrance was a simple sign:
ROSA’S TABLE
The front operated as a neighborhood restaurant.
The back served something different.
At ten-thirty every night, the rear door opened.
Anyone who needed dinner could eat.
No questions.
No bill.
Laney stood in the kitchen wearing a clean chef’s coat.
Her shoes were new.
Enzo noticed.
“You’re staring at my feet.”
“Your old shoes offended me.”
“They survived longer than some of your employees.”
“That’s because shoes aren’t afraid of me.”
“Debatable.”
Juny sat nearby folding napkins by touch and terrorizing the staff with jokes.
Her rehabilitation and accessibility training were now covered through Laney’s benefits, and she had recently moved into an apartment designed for independent living.
“Enzo,” Juny called.
“Yes?”
“Laney says you keep changing my table reservations.”
“I improve them.”
“You keep moving me to the best table.”
“You’re complaining?”
“I’m documenting favoritism.”
Laney laughed.
Then the back-door bell rang.
A mother stood outside with two children.
She looked embarrassed.
“I was told…”
Laney smiled.
“You were told correctly.”
“We don’t have money tonight.”
“You don’t need any.”
The younger child stared toward the kitchen.
“What smells so good?”
Laney looked at Enzo.
He leaned against the counter in a charcoal suit, open-collar black shirt revealing the rose tattoo along his neck. The tattoos across his hand were visible as he picked up a bowl.
Laney smiled.
“Family recipe.”
She served the children.
Enzo watched them eat.
“Good?” Laney asked.
The little boy nodded enthusiastically.
“Really good.”
Enzo lowered his eyes.
Laney touched his arm.
“You okay?”
“My mother would’ve liked this.”
“She planned it.”
“She planned everything, apparently.”
“Including me?”
Enzo looked at her.
“That part I’m taking credit for.”
Laney smiled.
“Very mafia boss of you.”
“I have a reputation.”
“You covered a sleeping cook with your coat.”
“Nobody needs to know.”
“You reopened your mother’s charity.”
“Business decision.”
“You gave Juny the best table.”
“Coincidence.”
“You’re currently holding dessert for a six-year-old.”
Enzo looked down.
The child was waiting impatiently.
He handed over the plate.
“Fine.”
Laney laughed.
Later, after everyone left, they sat at the same kind of staff table where she had first served him Rosa’s dish.
One bowl.
Two spoons.
Enzo tasted it.
Laney watched nervously.
“Well?”
He deliberately waited.
“Enzo.”
Another spoonful.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Castellan.”
He finally smiled.
“Perfect.”
“Better than the first time?”
“No.”
Her expression fell.
Then he added:
“The first time gave me my mother back.”
Laney became quiet.
“And this one?”
Enzo reached across the table.
His tattooed fingers closed around hers.
“This one gave me something I didn’t know I was missing.”
“What?”
“A future.”
Laney looked at their joined hands.
“You know, for a terrifying mafia boss, you occasionally say something decent.”
“Don’t spread it around.”
“Your secret is safe.”
He leaned closer.
“Laney.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Was that a question?”
“No.”
“That sounds more like you.”
She closed the remaining distance herself.
Outside, South Philadelphia moved beneath the warm streetlights.
Inside Rosa’s Table, the last pot of the night breathed softly over a low flame.
May you like
And at the back of the restaurant, the door Rosa Castellan had once opened for hungry children remained open.
This time, nobody would close it again.
