Free Icarus. by Russell Andrews

years, he could have a perfectly nice Virginia section on his wine list. He liked that idea. After all, it was Thomas Jefferson who'd introduced wine to the New World. The local reds would eventually go very nicely with some of the Southern adaptations of the restaurant's classic recipes.
    So they agreed it was a go.
    "Is it still fun for you?" she'd asked.
    He'd thought a bit, surprised he had to think, then he nodded and said, "It's still fun with you."
    She smiled – the answer had pleased and touched her – and she leaned over, kissed him on the top of the forehead, let her lips linger long enough that he could feel her breath rustling his hair.
    They got a good deal on a location, in the middle of the brick-lined Downtown Mall, near enough to the glorious university so it felt as if they were hovering in Jefferson's overwhelming shadow, yet far enough away so as not to be lumped with the raggedy barbecue and burger joints or the more staid places with their fake Colonial decorations and wild melange of would-be sophisticated ingredients. Their staff came together easily, too, and would come easier in the future; Jack talked to the university and they agreed to start a small master's program in restaurant management. Not only would Jack and Caroline give several lectures a year, the students could apprentice in the new kitchen and on the floor. In the meantime, they brought several people up from Miami, including the manager, a wonderful woman named Bella who worked twenty-four hours a day. was scrupulously honest, and was in the midst of a not-very-friendly divorce, so that she was anxious to get out of town for a while. The sous chef in Chicago was definitely ready to take over his own place and staff, so when he willingly made the move, everything was set.
    Now they were in the home stretch. One day to go before the opening.
    Caroline had been down in Charlottesville quite a bit lately, two or three days a week for several months, making sure that this newest venture would run with the only two things that she demanded of everyone and everything around her: precision and elegance. He'd gone with her several times, of course, as often as he could, but there was much work to be done at home.
    An overwhelming amount of work, really.
    There was a lot more pressure being the president of the United States, Jack always said, but even the president didn't put in the kind of hours a topnotch restaurateur in New York did.
    Now Jack glanced at the alarm clock: 4:45. He was fifteen minutes behind schedule.
    I must be getting lazy, he thought. And then he went through, in his mind, what he had to do that day, and he laughed out loud. Lazy. Yeah, right.
    With that, Jack started to swing his feet out of bed. But before they could touch the floor, he was startled to hear the phone ring. Then he was smiling, not so startled, as he picked up the receiver and, without asking who it was, said with mock sternness, "Why are you up so early?"
    'An annoying habit," Caroline said on the other end.
    "I've never been referred to quite that way," he told her, "but I guess it's better than nothing."
    "You're running behind schedule."
    "How do you know I'm not on my way out the door?"
    "You sound too cozy. My guess is you're still in bed thinking about how much work you have to do."
    "Lucky guess," he said.
    Her response was a confident "Mmmmm."
    Then she filled him in on what her day was going to be like, said that she was going back to sleep for a few hours, that she'd just felt like speaking to him before he headed out.
    "You're talking so quietly," he said. "Everything okay?"
    "Everything's perfect. It's just so quiet and peaceful here right now. It doesn't seem right to spoil it."
    "You, my sweet, are incapable of spoiling anything."
    "And you, my sweet, are going soft in the head. When are you coming down?"
    "Tonight. I'll have an early dinner with Dom and then I think I'll drive. Probably leave around eight, get there around midnight.