Chapter 14 #2
After taking back his apron from Matthew, Sal hands us each an open cardboard box.
Inside, nestled beside a mound of golden-brown, thick-cut fries, sits a burger that looks impossibly perfect.
The sesame-seed bun glistens, and the thick patty, charred around the edges, peeks out from under a layer of melted cheese and crisp lettuce.
“Well, you two enjoy,” Sal says, following us out. “It’s a beautiful night.”
“Thank you so much for this,” I tell him. Wisps of steam curl upwards, carrying the scent of grilled meat and secret spices. “I’m very excited to try it.”
“My pleasure, my pleasure,” he replies, lightly patting my shoulder. “Very nice to meet you.”
“And you,” I return with a smile.
“Matty.” He turns to Matthew, pulling him into a quick, one-armed hug. “Take care of yourself. And don’t let that fancy suit keep you away for too long, you hear?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“Now go, get out of here. Amy’s sick of sharing you with me,” Sal teases, winking at me.
I laugh at Sal’s teasing, catching Matthew’s eye. He shoots me a look of mock suffering, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“Come on,” he says softly, nodding a last goodbye to Sal. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.” He gestures towards the softly lit pathways winding through the Capitol grounds.
Carefully balancing my box, I fall into step beside him.
“Sorry about Sal,” he says, leading me along the paved path, past trees rustling in the night breeze.
“Why? He’s such a kind man,” I answer honestly.
“He’s won you over pretty fast.” Matthew raises his eyebrows in amusement.
We reach a low, semicircular stone bench set back slightly from the main path.
“Jealous?” I taunt.
Matthew throws his head back in laughter. “Not in the least. I owe a lot to that man,” he concludes with a touch more seriousness, gesturing for me to sit.
We settle onto the cool stone. The Capitol rises before us, its grandeur amplified up close.
“So you’ve known Sal since you were little,” I start, curious about their unlikely friendship.
“Sal and his food truck were my only escape.” Matthew’s reply adds to the questions swirling in my mind.
“Escape?”
After a thoughtful moment, he looks at me with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Time to give these burgers a try.”
I want to push him, to ask what he is escaping, but the quiet sadness in his expression holds me back.
Instead, I force a lightness into my voice. “Sure, don’t want your hard work to get cold.”
He looks away, but his words linger like a ghost between us.
“Dinner with the best view in town,” he announces, handing me a couple of napkins.
“Thank you.” I place them in my lap. “It is breathtaking.”
We angle our bodies towards each other, placing the boxes between us and picking up our burgers.
“Oh, wow!” I cover my mouth, chewing my first bite. “You guys weren’t kidding.”
Matthew chuckles, nodding. “Sal’s burgers are no joke,” he agrees, taking another appreciative bite.
We eat in comfortable silence, surrounded by the soft rustling of leaves, the distant city hum, and the pleasure of truly good food. The tension from earlier melts away, replaced by a quiet companionship.
I lean back against the cool stone, savoring the rich, smoky flavor of the burger and the perfectly crisp fries.
My gaze drifts upwards, following the soaring lines of the Capitol until it rests on the golden statue perched atop the dome, a solitary figure outlined against the dark sky.
She stands watch over the city, holding a vigil.
As I take my last bite, my curiosity gets the better of me. “What’s her story?” I ask, gesturing with my chin.
“Her name is Wisconsin.” Matthew follows my line of sight, swiping a napkin across his mouth. “But most people just call her Forward, our state’s motto. Notice how she’s always looking ahead. She’s been up there through storms, freezing winters… she endures. A symbol of resilience.”
“Very powerful,” I whisper.
I sit still, my mind echoing with the resonance of his story.
“Also very true,” he adds, turning to me, his expression serious. “You can’t change the past, Amy. None of us can. But we can always choose the direction we face next.”
His eyes, so green and intense, hold mine. I feel a spark of determination ignite in my chest, a pulse quickening beneath my skin. It’s as if he sees right through me.
“I need you to start a petition,” Matthew says, breaking eye contact to crumple his napkin.
“A petition?” I frown, watching as he sets the two cardboard boxes behind him.
“Yes,” he says simply, turning to face me. “Enlist the help of the old man…”
“Lou?”
“Yes, Lou,” he repeats. “He’s probably very well connected in the community and knows many people who would gladly vouch for your café.”
“You think it’ll work?” I ask, sitting up straighter.
“It’s a strong first step. You read Bancroft’s message. Right now, he thinks this is purely a numbers game. We need to show him there’s more to it than just rent.”
The calm he maintains contrasts with my growing excitement.
“And a bunch of signatures can do that?” I sound skeptical.
“Signatures represent community.” Matthew leans forward slightly, his voice low and conspiratorial.
“Each name is a local resident, a customer, maybe even someone influential Lou knows. Enough signatures get attention. Local reporters looking for a story, maybe even pressure from city hall if things escalate. It proves the café’s value isn’t just monetary, and it creates the kind of public headache Bancroft explicitly said he wants to avoid.
It makes evicting you messy, and potentially bad for his business. ”
I nod slowly, beginning to understand the power of this petition. A fragile but real hope makes my chest feel a little lighter.
“Okay… that actually makes sense.” I pull the ends of his blazer tighter around me, crossing my arms, my mind whirling with the logistics. “But… how do I actually do that? I mean, what does a petition even look like? Do I just get a notebook?”
A small smile touches Matthew’s lips, but there’s no mockery in it, only understanding.
“Not quite a notebook,” he says gently. “You’ll want something more formal.
A clear statement at the top explaining the situation.
Why Maddy’s Place is important, the threat it’s under, and what you’re asking people to support.
Then, columns underneath for signatures, printed names, and addresses. ”
“Addresses? Isn’t that asking a little too much?”
“Addresses are vital,” Matthew insists. “They show local support.”
A gust of wind rustles the branches above and blows a strand of hair across my face. Matthew reaches out, tucking it behind my ear with effortless grace. “You don’t have to do it alone. Start with Lou. Talk to him tomorrow. He’ll know who to approach first.”
I take my time, letting my eyes roam his features. “You weren’t supposed to show me Bancroft’s message.”
“Let me worry about Bancroft.”
I look down at my hands, fingers twirling my engagement ring. “I wish all of this would just go away.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Close my eyes and wake up to find it was all just a bad dream.”
Matthew touches his index finger to my chin, lifting my face. “Hey.” When my eyes meet his, he points up at the golden statue. “She stands alone. She’s endured all alone. But you’re not alone, Amy. You have the support of the people at your café, its loyal patrons, Lou…”
“Me,” he adds softly.
I look up at the lady in gold, then back to him. I nod. Words fall short, so I press my lips together in silent gratitude. Something powerful swells in my chest for this man, in this moment.
His eyes hold mine, the intensity softening into something warm, almost tender. He doesn’t look away. A slow smile touches his lips, mirroring the one forming on mine. He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. The touch is so gentle I almost shiver.
He drops his hand to his side, fingers flexing into a fist. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmurs. His voice is barely above a whisper.