Grateful in Watch Hill : A Small Town Romance

Grateful in Watch Hill
S.Celi and Sara Celi
Published by Lowe Interactive Media, LLC, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
GRATEFUL IN WATCH HILL
First edition. April 2, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 S.Celi and Sara Celi.
Written by S.Celi and Sara Celi.

For all those who need a new start

ONE SETH
Worst year of my life.
Eight simple words strung together and wrapped around me so I could never escape the undeniable fact. This is the worst year of my life.
I flipped the turn signal on my truck before I stopped at the intersection on the outskirts of Watch Hill. From here, I didn’t have much longer to drive before I’d arrive at Watch Hill Pizza, a place I had to admit had become a refuge as I navigated one disaster after another. Kyle had been kind enough to give me a job when no one else could, and I had no idea how I’d pay him back for his unfailing kindness.
Today I’ll help him finish the outdoor patio. That’s a start.
As I turned the truck onto the main road leading into town, the canisters of patio sealant clamored and clanked together in the open bed, each sound a reminder of how much my life had changed since the start of the coronavirus pandemic. Before the virus, I’d been the owner of The Frosted Heart, one of the most successful nightclubs in the Cincinnati metropolitan area. Before the virus, I’d spent my nights overseeing expensive theme parties and upselling VIP bottle service. And before the virus, I’d been a consummate night owl, sleeping most of the day and getting up at five p.m., ready for another night of cultivating the region’s limited social scene. Before the virus . . .
Never mind. That’s not who you are now.
Now, I was lucky I had a job, and even luckier for my friendship with Kyle, which had turned out stronger than I realized or deserved. Kyle bailed me out at my lowest moment, and I would never be able to express to him just how much he’d done for me.
I pulled into the parking lot across the street from Kyle’s pizzeria. The staff had taken to parking there during construction, and as I turned off the truck engine, I surveyed the new patio, pergola, and outdoor fireplace that made up what would soon be Watch Hill Pizza’s outdoor dining terrace. It looked good, and I was proud of our handiwork. A childhood spent accompanying my dad to construction projects had turned out to be an advantage. Not only did the new space expand the restaurant, but it also fit right in with the quaint atmosphere of the community.
“Here we go,” I told Kyle as I walked to the patio with two large cans of sealant. Once we stained the wood, the project would basically be complete. “They had plenty in stock at the hardware store.”
“Great.” Kyle put down the staining brush and walked over, squinting underneath his sun-bleached Cincinnati Reds baseball cap. He stopped when he got about six feet away from me. Even though we’d both gotten our COVID vaccines a few weeks before at the local drugstore, the trauma of the pandemic lingered all around us. I wonder how long we’ll interact like this. No handshakes. Social distancing. “How much was it?”
“Twenty bucks. Here’s the receipt.”
“You can take the money out of the register. Tyler is in there manning the fort, so just tell him I sent you.”
“Thanks.”
I surveyed the space, even more impressed with it up close. Kyle had wanted to save on the expansion costs, so we’d had to break up the project over the last few weeks, building it in between the daily tasks of running a pizza parlor. It hadn’t been easy, but there was a satisfaction in knowing we’d managed to complete the patio before summer truly began.
“If it all goes well, I think this will be finished by tomorrow afternoon.”
“I hope so,” Kyle said.
“I still think you should have a grand opening for it.”
Kyle hesitated. “Don’t you think . . .?”
“I know what you’re worried about, but this is an outdoor space, and that’s the point, right? Anyone who might be concerned wouldn’t have to worry.”
“Just don’t want to give the wrong impression to people.”
“What if we offer three one-hour seating sessions? Six to seven, seven thirty to eight thirty, nine to ten? That gives us time to thoroughly clean and disinfect between each session. Paper plates and napkins, so no silverware to wash.”
“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?
I nodded. “We’ll place the tables six feet apart, automatically limiting the number of people per seating. Masks required while people line up outside.” I spread a hand. “People around here need good things. They’ll come.”
“They’ve been coming.”
Kyle was right, they had. Watch Hill Pizza had become a huge success over the last several months, and I had to give my friend a lot of credit for that. The changes to the menu, a regular and stronger social media presence, the pizza bread, and the price point had all made the place profitable during a time when most people in the industry struggled to making their bottom line.
Once again, a bit of luck.
“Think about it.” I glanced over my shoulder at the rest of what made up Watch Hill’s downtown, a small square with some other restaurants, a few boutiques, the Already Perked coffee shop, an insurance agency, and Sam’s Deli. “Could be good.”
“Speaking of things that could be good—have you thought about the food box drive on Saturday?” Kyle grinned, and it was another small reminder of how much better things had gotten in the last few months. We still wore masks inside the restaurant, but when we were working outside, we removed them.
“Yes.” No.
“So, you’re volunteering, right?”
It wasn’t a

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