“Gold is at the end of the rainbow, not silver,” I quipped.
“I know. She’s grumbling a bit about appearances and living in sin. I suspect that’s about you two.”
“So, what you’re saying is that my mother is acting her usual self,” I said.
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.” Nikita smiled. “By the way, the Irish mutton stew is a hit. It’s possible we’ll run out. Oh, and Rena, your parents are here too. They’re out on the terrace. We’re lucky that it’s unseasonably warm tonight.”
“Thank you, Nik. I appreciate it.” I looked at Serena. “Shall we go meet our guests?”
“I’m going to take Andrew to my parents. You meet your guests.”
I frowned. As far as I was concerned, Serena and I were partners in all things, not just raising Andrew. She, on the other hand, felt that Roarke business was all my purview. Sure, she’d help with planning events, but she wasn’t the hostess in her mind. I acquiesced to her wishes…for now.
I watched her and Andrew work their way through the restaurant to the terrace, making sure my mother didn’t do something crazy. When they were safely outside, I made my way table to table, checking in on our patrons. Nikita was right, the Irish stew was a hit. The menu also included corned beef, coddle, Limerick ham, and seafood chowder.
I found my parents in the lounge. Bri saw me first, giving me a bit of an eye-roll, which I took to mean my mother was unhappy and letting everyone know about it.
“Good evening,” I said as I stepped up next to my dad.
“Devin.” My father patted my back. “Quite the traditional Irish setting you’ve created.”
I couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. “Yes. People seem to be enjoying it.”
“Is my cutie-patootie nephew here?” Bri asked.
“Yes.” I gave a nod to the terrace to indicate where she could find Andrew. Bri was supportive of me, and I appreciated how well she accepted Serena and Andrew. Even my father seemed to enjoy Andrew and I wondered if that was the key to getting him to slow down and find something other than the business to focus on. Not just because I was ready to run it, but also because his illness seemed to slow him down less when Andrew was around.
Of course, the few times I took him to visit my family this week, my mother was out of the house. I promised Serena I’d keep her away from him until we could be assured that she wouldn’t be hurtful.
“Would you like to come and say something to our guests?” I asked my parents.
“This is your show now, son,” my father said. My mother looked away, clearly not liking that statement. I couldn’t decide if it was because she felt bad for my dad having to slow down, or that she’d be out of the limelight with him doing less.
“For the last thirty years, you’ve been running the business and the Roarke. It’s St. Patrick’s Day. I think people would like to see you. Both of you,” I said looking at my mom.
“He’s right, honey. The people should see you,” my mother said.
“Well, okay,” my father agreed. I walked with them back into the restaurant to the area where we had a band and a dance floor. I nodded to the band leader who stopped the group from playing.
I stepped up to the microphone. “May I have your attention?”
The room quieted down and people walked in from the terrace, including Serena, her parents, and Andrew.
“That’s my daddy,” Andrew’s voice squealed with delight. It was amazing how fucking blissful that felt.
People turned to look and there was an audible “aww” in the room.
I grinned like a loon. “Being a dad is awesome.”
There was another “aww.”
“But I’m here to introduce my father. You all know him and so no introduction is needed. Dad?”
My father stepped to the microphone. He took medication for Parkinson's but it didn’t stop the tremors. His illness wasn’t a secret, but he hadn’t been seen in public for some time. The patrons all clapped and there were a few whistles that I was sure horrified my mother.
My father’s eyes got misty at the response. “Thank you,” he said batting his hands in front of him to encourage them to quiet down. “You’re very kind. I want to welcome you to the Roarke’s St. Patrick’s Day celebration. I hope you’re all enjoying your authentic Irish cuisine. For over a hundred years, the Roarke has been serving New York City. I anticipate it will continue to be one of the most renowned restaurants for the next hundred years under the leadership of my son, Devin, and perhaps in another twenty years, his son Andrew.”
My head whipped to my father, and then to my mother, worried how she’d respond. Her jaw was tense, but her gaze held steadfast toward my father, her mouth in an attempt of a smile.
“The Roarke and all the other Roarke family owned restaurants around the world are in good hands. And if you’re looking for a younger vibe, I understand the Roarke clubs are the hot place to be.”
I felt like I was in the twilight zone. Was this really happening?
“In fact, I believe Devin and my daughter Brianna are working together on a new club in New York.”
There were a few “whoops” in the back.
“I appreciate all the love and support you’ve given over these few months of my illness. I hope you’ll continue to support Devin as I have every faith in the world that he’ll continue to build a Roarke business based on quality service.” He held his hand out to me. Holy shit, he was officially handing me the baton.
I gave him a hug and whispered, “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, son.”
I stood up at the microphone, feeling a little stunned in a happy way. I shook my
