Dinner was a lively affair as we sat around the table eating Gram’s borscht, cabbage rolls and fresh bread. I loved the tangy beet soup and the thick tomato sauce covering the soft cabbage rolls filled with ground beef, peppers, and all the spices that Gram used. I scoop everything up with slice after slice of the warm, crusty bread, and even when my stomach told me I’d had enough, I kept eating.
Gram spent the meal quizzing Payton about the Bears, their history, and their chances of winning the championship this season, stopping only when I protested that she wasn’t allowed to root for opponents of the Storm.
“Pshaw,” Gram scoffed. “I can root for whoever I choose. I’m a Chicago native and the Bears are my team!”
“What about family? Blood loyalty?” I protested loudly. “What about supporting your grandson?”
“It’s the Bears!” Gram and Payton cried in unison.
“You two are useless,” I laughed as I helped myself to another slice of bread. “However, I expect you both to come to the game on Sunday.”
“I’ll be there,” Gram said. “I wouldn’t miss the opening game for the world!”
“And you?” I asked turning to Payton.
“Of course, I’ll be there,” she smiled warmly. There was something about the way she was looking at me that told me her talk with Gram had helped ease at least part of her burden, and that made me feel relieved.
We stayed for dessert: a rich chocolate silk pie covered in thick whipped cream, and dark Turkish coffee, and by the time we headed for the door, we were groaning because we were so full. Gram smiled as she handed Payton a bag with some leftovers tucked inside, and then pulled her down for a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, dear,” Gram said before turning to me and giving me a big hug and a kiss. “And you, too, David.”
Gram stood on the porch waving until we were out of view, and when I looked over at Payton, I saw she was smiling as she looked out the window. I wanted to ask what she was thinking, but instead I reached
out and took her hand. When she squeezed my hand, I knew, at least for now, things were going to be okay.
#
Four days later, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I stood staring out at the Storm’s brand new stadium ready to be put to use for the first time. It was a magnificent venue that offered all kinds of modern touches that Soldier Field, even with its high-priced renovations, could not. The seats were all padded and were equipped with warming devices that would make winter games in Chicago more tolerable. The concession stands were spaced so that every section had plenty of access to food and drinks, and there were twice as many bathrooms as any other stadium in the country. It had been a tough order to fill, but the bathrooms had been the deal breaker for many design firms.
As I looked out into the stadium, I could see people filling the stands and I was happy to see that many of them were wearing the Storm navy home jersey with the Kelly-green lettering and white numbers. I hoped that we’d manage to fill the stands for this first game against the Detroit Lions, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath. We were just starting and I couldn’t afford to be overly optimistic about attendance.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Finn said as he slipped into the skybox through the side door. He was wearing a navy polo shirt and Levi jeans with green Jordan sneakers. I shook my head. He grinned, “That good, eh?”
“What the fuck were we thinking?” I asked as I kept staring out at the stadium. “I mean, seriously.”
“We rolled the dice and decided to see how far we could go,” Finn said. “That’s all we were thinking.”
“I’m sick of it already,” I sighed as I turned and faced him. “What’s happening with the project?”
“It’s moving along nicely,” he said as he ran his hand over the leather seats that occupied several raised rows on the far side of the room. The suite had been outfitted with every luxury we could think of, and had everything from its own fully stocked bar to a full kitchen off to one side where a chef and several staff members would cook throughout the game. There were two full bathrooms complete with showers, and a staff on duty to press clothing or shine shoes should the need arise. I hadn’t created this suite for me, but rather as a selling point for the next potential owner. Personally, I found all of the amenities pompous, and even tacky.
“What’s going on?” I asked, eyeing Finn. He looked like he was hiding something.
“Nothing, why?”
“You want to say something, but you’re holding back,” I observed. I had known Finn my whole life, and as a result, I sometimes knew him better than he knew himself. And as my business partner, I cut him no slack.
“Just something I found out that I’m not sure you want to know,” he shrugged.
“When have I ever not wanted to know something?” I asked.
“When it involves women,” he said bluntly. “You hate it when I burst your bubble.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Finn?” I demanded.
“That chick you’re in bed with,” he said, waiting to see if I wanted to hear more. When I said nothing, he continued, “There’s some rumors going around that she’s playing you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I said, trying to stay calm.