Heads You Win

“Of course you are, Mama. Your problem is that you’ve spent your whole life underestimating yourself.”

“That’s certainly never been one of your problems.”

“Frankly, you’re too good to be working in a pizza parlor,” said Alex, ignoring her reprimand. “But with my help we could build the brand, turn it around, sell it on, and then set you up in your own restaurant.”

“Great restaurants aren’t run by chefs, Alex, but by first-class managers, so before you risk one cent of your money on me, you must find an experienced manager.”

“Good managers are two a penny, Mama. Great chefs are a far rarer commodity.”

“What makes you think I’m a great chef?”

“When you first got the job at Mario’s, I could always get a table, at any time of day. Now there are queues outside from eleven o’clock in the morning. And I can assure you, Mama, they are not queuing to meet the manager.”

“But it would be such a risk,” said Elena. “Perhaps you’d be wiser to put your money on deposit in a bank.”

“If I did that, Mama, the only one making a profit would be the bank. No, I think I’ll risk a little of my newfound wealth on you.”

“But not before you find a manager.”

“Actually, I’ve already got someone in mind.”

“Who?” demanded Elena.

“Me.”

* * *

Elena stared at the gold-embossed invitation card that Alex had put on the mantelpiece for all to see.

“Who’s Lawrence Lowell?” she asked as he sat down for breakfast.

“You remember Lieutenant Lowell. He was the officer in command of my unit in Vietnam. Frankly I’m surprised he even remembered my name, let alone found out where I lived.”

“Aren’t we coming up in the world?” Elena teased, as she poured him a cup of coffee. “I don’t suppose there’ll be that many pizza parlor managers among his guests. Will you accept?”

“Of course I will. I’m the manager of Elena’s, the most exclusive pizza house in New York.”

“Exclusive in this case means there’s only one.”

Alex laughed. “Not for much longer. I’ve already got my eye on a second site a few blocks away.”

“But we’re not making a profit at the first one yet,” Elena reminded him as she put two eggs on to boil.

“We’re breaking even, so it’s time to expand.”

“But—”

“But,” said Alex, “my only problem is what to buy a man who has everything for his thirtieth birthday—a Rolls-Royce, a private jet?”

“A pair of cuff links,” said Elena. “Your father always wanted a pair of cuff links.”

“I have a feeling Lieutenant Lowell just might have several pairs of cuff links.”

“Then make them personal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have a pair made with his family crest, or his club’s emblem, or even your old regiment.”