Twenty-Four
For most of the felled, the vomiting started Tuesday night, but the trouble had been planted the day before, when Robert Pavone, new to the deli department, noticed a strange noise coming from one of the new refrigerator doors when he clocked in in the morning.
He walked up the stairs to tell someone, but Miss Harper and Mr. Finnegan were behind a closed door in his office.
He left a note taped to the door, brief and to the point: Hi.
Third refrigerator from the left making a weird noise.
Wanted you to know. Sincerely, Robert Pavone from Deli.
He reread the note and felt a little strange about the sincerely, but figured it was best to err on the side of polite.
He gently placed the note on the door, not wanting to disturb the meeting inside.
When he went back downstairs, the noise was gone. He walked into the fridge. The temperature felt fine. Just like last night. He checked the interior thermostat: also fine. He could hear Mr. Finnegan’s voice coming closer as he stepped out of the walk-in.
“Are you Robert Pavone from deli?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s this about a weird noise?”
“Well, sir, I’m not hearing it anymore. But I did earlier.”
Finn and Helen walked in and out of all the new walk-ins, checking gauges, opening and shutting doors, putting a gloved palm onto various food items.
“I think everything looks okay,” Helen said.
“Good.” Finn needed to get home before Honey did so he could pack and put his suitcase in the trunk of his car without her noticing. “I’m going to take off, then.”
“Sorry for the trouble,” Robert said.
“Don’t ever apologize for paying attention. You’re doing a good job. And you don’t have to call me sir. I’m Finn to everyone here.” Finn put out his hand and Robert shook it a little too vigorously.
When Robert came into work the following day and went to grab the tray of cooked roast beef out of the walk-in, the refrigerator felt warmer than before, even though the gauge displayed the correct temperature.
When he told his boss, Eddie checked the gauge himself.
“Right where we need it,” he said. “You’re getting used to the cold. ”
Robert grabbed a tray of cooked round roasts and brought them over to the slicer.
Adding a “beef on weck” to the prepared foods had been Robert’s idea.
He’d grown up in Buffalo and his father had worked at a deli where the local sandwich—roast beef on a Kimmelweck roll with horseradish cream—was a big seller for the lunch crowd.
When he suggested Finnegan’s add them to the deli case, Finn agreed and put Robert in charge, which was a big deal for Robert, who had nearly flunked out of high school but was thriving at the store while living with his grandmother.
If he kept saving, he could afford a place for himself in a few months.
He quickly assembled and wrapped the dozens and dozens of sandwiches for distribution to three store locations by lunchtime.
As he was cleaning up, after the sandwiches were safely on their way to their destinations, he had enough beef left to make another few dozen.
He decided to cut them up and offer samples ahead of the weekend.
They always did a brisk business in premade when the Bills were playing, even though the team was pathetic this year.
Nine losses, two shutouts at home. Didn’t matter.
People still bought food to watch the game.
He arranged the wedges of sandwich on a platter and decorated it with pieces of parsley and put it in front of a huge royal-blue-and-red cardboard cutout that said GO BILLS!
! He stood back and admired his creation.