GOLD FEVER Part Two. Ken Salter

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      “So, we’d buy the restaurant business and the entire building including the apartment, right?”

      “Yes, with these crippled legs I’m not going to risk those treacherous stairs again. I need to be at ground level both for my legs and heart. That’s what the doctor said.”

      My mind was racing at the possibilities. Manon would have her cherished restaurant and I could use the large room at the top of the stairs as my office. We could use the apartment as a residence. We’d both be close to the business and not have to traverse dangerous streets at night when we closed the restaurant.

      “How soon would we need to reopen the restaurant?” He really had my interest now.

      “As soon as you possibly can so we don’t lose our suppliers or regular customers. I’m sure my cook, Henri Royat, would be happy to work for Manon. He loves his job and the restaurant.”

      “But, he’s never worked for a boss who’s a woman. Manon’s very independent and will insist to run the restaurant her way; that’s why she came to San Francisco.”

      “It’s true French chefs are all male. Henri’s a good cook, but he has always taken orders from me and I determine the menus. I think he’d like to see a more lively operation and the kind of glamour only a woman can bring, especially in this town starved for women.”

      “Well, I have to talk it over with Manon. It’s going to be difficult to run two businesses with her pregnancy.”

      “I’ve worked up some figures for how I think it could work,” he said and handed me some sheaves of notebook paper filled with figures and the address of his cook. “And mon ami, next time you come, bring me a refill for the flask and a couple of dry sausages from my cellar. I’m dying for some real food.”