Joseph tore his gaze from his son and turned to the two people teasing him, his sharp tongue making a swift return. “I invited you to dinner to hear your blessings, not to be the butt of your jokes.”
Quintina clapped her hands together. “There he is! Now that’s the Mr. Baird I’m familiar with.”
Vivica giggled, covering her mouth.
Harvey nodded in agreement. “Yes, this version of Mr. Baird is much more reassuring. That smile earlier felt like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, ready to bare its fangs at any moment.”
Joseph’s face hardened into a frown. “Are you trying to become fish food in the pond?”
“No, no, not on a cold day like this,” Harvey quickly backpedaled.
The group stood in the courtyard, laughing, until Sherman came out to greet them. “Aren’t you all freezing? Come on, let’s get you into one of the private rooms. You can brew some coffee by the stove and chat while the kitchen finishes up.”
Quintina looked at Vivica curiously. “You know the owner, too?”
“The owner is Harvey’s uncle,” Vivica explained.
“Oh,” Quintina said, understanding.
But Harvey interjected, “The real owner of this place is standing right next to you. My uncle just works for him.”
“Huh?” Vivica froze, looking from side to side. “What do you mean?”
Joseph, holding Chaim, had already turned and was heading toward the covered walkway.
The realization dawned on Vivica a moment later, her expression one of utter shock.
“Are you saying… Joseph owns this restaurant?”

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