Bellini - 1. Chapter 1

The Bellini

Anthology theme: Anniversary

“And you two,” the tall, blond, muscular man said as he placed napkins in front of the man and woman seated at the bar, “must be celebrating your wedding anniversary.”

The elderly couple were taken aback at his words. They looked at one another and then at the ruggedly handsome bartender whose smile was both wide and generous. He had a small gap between his brilliantly white two front teeth, and sandy, wavy golden hair, cut conservatively but stylishly. He had a kind of grace and finesse that seemed effortless.

“How did you…?” the woman asked, her mouth left agape after her question.

The man scowled and placed his hand protectively on the woman’s. “Have we met?” he sputtered.

The bartender stood up, towering over them, and laughed. “You look like a couple deeply in love and celebrating something special. While it’s possible you are newlyweds, I’d say it’s unlikely. You seem too comfortable in each other’s space to be ‘just marrieds.’ When you walked in the door, you were holding hands. This lovely lady whispered something conspiratorial to you, and you laughed. Then, you ushered her to the bar and pulled out the stool for her. Once again, it’s possible you are people who ordinarily sit at a bar, but with that lovely long skirt and the high-heeled shoes, I’m betting you are doing so because of an extraordinary occasion.”

The woman started giggling as the bartender finished his explanation. The man said, “Did our son tell you all about us?”

The bartender didn’t say anything at first. He tapped his left index finger on the bar in a syncopated manner. The muscles at the corners of his mouth jumped. Then a grin broke over his clean-shaven and tan face, and he nodded.

“Guilty as charged. Danny, that’s your son, right? He called up and spoke with me about your fiftieth wedding anniversary and I wanted to make it special,” the bartender answered and pointed to himself. “I’m Aaron.”

“Howard,” he said, “and this is my wife, Betsy.” He gestured toward his companion.

Betsy blushed a bit but held out her hand. Aaron leaned closer, took it, and gently shook. Then he reached over to Howard and pumped his hand firmly. “Great to meet you,” he said. “Fifty years is quite the achievement.”

The couple beamed as the bartender nodded once in appreciation. “What would you like to drink? We have a very good bottle of Moet Chandon chilling, if you’d like.”

Betsy looked at Howard, and then they both nodded.

“Excellent,” Aaron said, and turned to pick up two champagne flutes. They glistened in the low lighting, gleaming with golden specks reflected from the candles on the bar. After placing them on the beverage napkins, he strode over to a silver wine stand, picked it up as if it were a feather, and carried it over to the bar. There was a gentle sloshing sound as he set the stand down. He picked up a linen towel, white and pristine, pulled a bottle out of the icy water, and presented it to them both.

“I’ve never had such a fancy champagne,” Betsy remarked, touching the bottle and tracing the name in condensation. “Usually, we only have something rather inexpensive on New Year’s Eve at midnight.”

“Occasionally with orange juice at brunch,” Howard added. “Danny introduced us to mimosas. They are quite a nice touch for a Sunday morning treat.” He paused for a moment, tilted his head, and asked, “How long have you known our Danny?”

The bartender finished pouring the champers into the glasses, and then, wiping the rim of the bottle said, “We’ve never met. He called and asked for a reservation and told us about your special day. It’s not often we get to accommodate such a fantastic story.”

“Oh,” Betsy said, her cheeks a bright pink in the bar light. She seemed a little off at first, but recovered quickly. “I would’ve thought there would be lots of people in our situation. I mean, after all, this was the place we got married. Lots of people got married here.”

Aaron thought he could be wrong, but there seemed to be a glint of moistness in her eyes. Howard was fidgeting and looking the other direction. He looked distressed as well. Something was hovering over this happy event. He did what he did best and distracted them.

“Yes, that’s true,” the bartender said, placing the bottle back into the silver wine holder, a delicate plop accompanying his movement. “Lots of people got married here many years ago, but the church closed about 49 years ago.” He was careful not to continue with his statement, afraid he’d insult them.

“I guess we were some of the last to have our ceremony here,” Howard said, shaking his head. “Just doesn’t seem that long ago.”

“What was this place like fifty years ago?” Aaron asked, wiping his hands on his immaculate white apron.

“Nothing like it is now. It was a pretty ordinary church, out in the middle of nowhere. It was built with brick which was kind of unique out here in the desert, with stained glass windows and wooden pews that were stained dark. The walls were white, and the carpet was threadbare. But, for us it was special.”

Betsy patted her bright silver hair, and her little silver cross earring glinted in the low light. “My parents were some of the last congregants who still attended services. It was down to only about a dozen families when the place finally closed.”

“It was only special to me because of how Betsy simply glowed as she walked down the aisle.”

“Oh, you.” Betsy slapped Howard on the shoulder. His dark gray suit bunched as he twisted, pretending it hurt. His face curled up in a pained expression. “Fifty years she’s been pushing me around.”

“Someone had to.” Betsy laughed. “Aaron, what has Danny got planned for us?”

Both of them seemed more at ease now, Aaron noticed. Which is why he always catered to these situations. Special occasions brought out both the best, and the most painful things, in most people.

“The Church has a table for you over by the fireplace. We have a set menu for you. Danny requested escargot to begin, French onion soup, then as an entrée Chateaubriand with Potatoes Duchess and asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. Finally, for dessert, we have a wedding cake for two, with fresh blackberries and cream.”

“That sounds amazing,” Betsy said, placing her hand on Howard’s.

“But first, you have your champagne, of course, and let me get your caviar. I’ll be right back.” Aaron walked away from the couple.

“Howard, shall we toast?” Betsy asked, lifting her flute. It was almost as though sparks flew from the glass as the coppery colored light flickered through the crystal.

“To us, and our fifty fine years together.” Howard clinked and they both drank.

“That is good,” Howard said. Betsy agreed, nodding and setting the glass down on the bar.

“It was nice of our son to go to all this trouble.”

“It was.” Howard stopped. “I’m just curious about something.”

Betsy didn’t respond at first. “Are you talking about Aaron?”

“Yeah, he seemed to ‘know’ Danny or something. Didn’t he?”

“Maybe. I certainly got that impression.”

“Do you think he knows what ‘Bellini’ might mean?” Betsy asked haltingly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

“Maybe,” Howard said again. “Because the house closes in a week. Then it may be lost forever.”

They took another sip, looked into the darkness of the room, and sighed. Their gloom was shared.

***

The dinner had been as lovely as promised. The appetizer was salty, garlicky, and perfect flavor bombs on the tongue. The soup was tantalizingly light with an accent of rich gooey cheese along with crusty bread. The beef filet was seasoned just right with a lovely wine sauce that married the flavors exquisitely.

After their dessert, the couple made their way back to the bar. Aaron was now contending with more patrons, but he quickly waved a greeting and walked over to attend to them.

“How was everything?” he asked, placing a serviette in front of each of them.

“Simply lovely,” Betsy gushed. “Danny certainly knows what we like.”

“He did,” Howard added, patting his wife’s hand.

Aaron tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, he did?”

Howard cleared his throat, and it didn’t help. When he spoke, the frog lodged there made the words sound wooden. “He passed away.”

Betsy continued, “He had a heart condition as a child, and it was never really fixed, not completely.” She then said quickly, “He passed a couple of months ago.”

“So, it was sudden? I’m so sorry to hear that,” Aaron said, leaning closer.

“It was kind of a shock. We were at his house when it happened.”

Aaron shook his head.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Howard said.

They ordered two black Sambucas with a little ice, and Aaron busily, and somberly, fixed their drinks.

After placing them in front of his guests, he asked, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Betsy nodded, but Howard shook his head. She then looked over her glasses at him and scowled. “Are you sure?” he asked her.

Betsy pursed her lips and then said, “We’ve got to try.”

Howard didn’t say anything at that. Aaron puzzled at their meaning.

“Do you know what a Bellini is?” Betsy asked suddenly.

Aaron was surprised, but recovered quickly. “Are you talking about the cocktail?”

“I think so,” she said. She held up a finger. Breathing deeply, she continued. “I’m not sure I’m telling this right. Howard?”

Her husband began by asking a simple question. “Aaron, do you have ten minutes for us? We wouldn’t ask, but we are kind of desperate.”

The blond bartender didn’t respond right away. He looked closely at the pair, the woman obviously struggling to hold back tears, and the elderly man was barely containing his emotions. He could see what was troubling them earlier was back.

He finally spoke, “Of course. I have a break coming up, and I can sit with you at a table. Would that work for you?”

“It would,” Betsy said, her wide eyes filled with tears. “Oh, thank you so much. You’re our last hope.”

Aaron nodded and turned, then asked the manager if he could step away for a few minutes.

After getting Juan to cover the bar, Aaron walked around the edge of the counter and saw the couple hunched together at a small table by the wall. This certainly was a turn in the evening for them. They’d come in so excited and happy, celebrating an event that was becoming rarer and beyond the reach of younger couples in the age of divorce. Then came that momentary flash of despair. Now they seemed almost on a mission or a … quest.

“May I?” he asked placing his glass of soda water bobbing with ice and lemon on the table in front of the empty chair.

“Please,” Howard gestured to the space across from them.

“How can I help?” Aaron asked as business-like as possible as he sat down. He didn’t want them falling to pieces, again.

“Are you sure you never met our Danny?” Betsy asked, with some tinge of desperation in her voice and pain on her face. Her eyes searched his face, seeking something. Aaron was confused.

“No. I did speak with him on the phone a couple of months back, but that’s the extent of my interactions with him. I’m not sure how I can….”

“Danny was about your age, and you,” Betsy paused, “you remind us of him.”

“That’s very kind,” Aaron said, and leaned closer. “What can I do?”

Howard looked at his wife and began, “Danny was a very creative guy, inventive, and he made a lot of money on the Internet.”

“That’s how he made a living, as unlikely as it seems,” Betsy added.

“So, he had a YouTube channel or TikTok or something?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Howard continued. “However, he never had much savings. He’d spend his money as fast as he earned it.”

“He did buy a house and a nice car,” Betsy corrected her husband. “All paid off and everything.”

“Yes.” Howard grimaced. “But after he died, there was hardly any money in his bank account.”

“That’s too bad,” Aaron said, not knowing where this could be going. He waited patiently for them to continue.

“You see, he had a child. And our granddaughter is special needs.” Howard tapped the table. “And he said she would never want for anything.”

“Olivia is a perfect delight, and Danny loved her so much, as we do,” Betsy added. “He always told us he’d take care of Olivia.”

Aaron said, “Did he leave his money in a trust for her care or something? Maybe Olivia’s mother has the money.”

Howard and Betsy recoiled at that remark. “Caron wouldn’t have access to any money.”

“Karen?” Aaron asked.

“Olivia’s mother, Caron, with a ‘c’ and an ‘o’. She’s a nasty piece of work.”

Betsy jumped in, “She broke poor Danny’s heart. She cheated on him and stole things from him. Danny would never give her any money. He could never trust her again.”

Howard nodded in agreement. “Danny told us he had money saved for taking care of Olivia, but that Caron would never find it. He said it was protected by Bellini or something.”

“He said it was covered by Bellini,” Betsy said. “Danny sent us that in an email once.”

Aaron took a sip of his drink, and then nodded to them. “How am I supposed to help?”

“Oh,” Betsy said. “We think you can help us figure out where the money is.”

Aaron just stared at them.

“Just before Danny died, he pointed at his bookcase and whispered, ‘Bellini’ to us.”

The elderly couple were both looking at him, and the bartender saw tears welling up in their eyes. Clearly, they were overwhelmed by the loss of their son. If he was hearing things correctly, he died right in front of them at his home. Such a tragedy would be a terrible challenge for anyone.

“I’m very sorry about your loss, but I don’t see how I could possibly help you.”

Howard sighed. Betsy began weeping, tears streaming down her face, mascara running in dark rivulets on her powdered cheeks.

“Hold on,” Aaron said, placing his hand on Betsy’s. “Let’s back up a minute. Tell me what you think has happened.”

Howard said, his voice a bit empty and sullen, “I think he hid some money in his house. I think he meant it to take care of his daughter. He entrusted us to find it, and we can’t. We’ve looked everywhere, and there is no money hidden in that house.”

“Danny will be so mad at us,” Betsy whimpered.

She wouldn’t look at him. The bartender could feel the despair seeping from her. He couldn’t stop himself now.

Aaron whispered, “Let’s go over this carefully, okay? Now, tell me about this email first.”

Betsy wiped her eyes with a bunched up white lacy handkerchief and then dug into her bag. Out came an older model iPhone. She expertly scrolled through it and pulled up the email quickly. Obviously, she’d kept it in a place she could find and read it easily.

“This is what he wrote,” Betsy said, handing the phone over the Aaron. “Maybe he used a code word that young people like you know, and we don’t.”

Aaron took the phone and read it quickly,

Mom and Dad,

Just got the latest payout from the Tube. This one was sick. I’m taking the whole thing and putting it away for Livie. Trust me, it’s in a place my ex will never find it. Remember, Bellini’s got it covered, okay? Don’t forget that. When we had those drinks at the Market, I figured out how to keep it safe.

See you on the 15^th.

It was unsigned and dated five months ago.

“Do you remember something about drinks at the Market?” Aaron asked.

“We had some drinks at brunch from time to time,” Howard answered. “Danny took us out on Sunday mornings quite often. We usually had some kind of orange juice drink.”

“Probably a mimosa,” Aaron answered. “Did you ever have a drink that tasted like peaches and was a little pinkish in color?”

Betsy nodded vigorously. “Yes, I remember once in downtown Tempe we had drinks like that.”

“Was it at the Market?”

Howard agreed. “That place by Town Lake? It’s a big complex with lots of stores and things. Yeah, we once had brunch there with Danny.”

“That must be what he’s referring to in the email.” Aaron thought a moment. “Did your son have any champagne flutes or maybe a bartending set on his bookcase?”

“Yeah, he does–did,” Betsy answered.

“We looked through that,” Howard muttered. “We opened up that box and the metal canister and looked high and low.”

“We even looked through his art books. He had this one that said Bellini on the cover, and we went through it page by page. Nothing.”

“I researched this Bellini character on the Internet, and he was a painter back in the Renaissance era.”

Betsy added, “And there was a musician, a composer by the name of Bellini as well.”

“The Bellini cocktail was invented in the 1940s in Venice.” Howard sat back. “We have looked high and low in his house, and there is nothing. Nothing,” he repeated.

Aaron thought, considering the facts. “Did he have any paintings or pictures with Renaissance style depictions?”

Betsy and Howard both shook their heads grimly.

“Are you sure Danny didn’t tell you at some point? This seems to be a bit of a gamble on his part.” Aaron tilted his head thoughtfully.

“We’re sure,” Betsy responded. “We’ve wracked our brains.”

Howard cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Danny liked to be clever about things.”

“And he didn’t know he was going to die,” Betsy added, a bitter tone tainting the air.

Aaron said, “I get it. He was artistic, right?”

Both of his parents grimaced, agreeing silently.

Aaron thought about pouring a glass of sparkling wine at the bar, here at The Church. They used prosecco when making a Bellini. They would top off a jigger of white peach puree and then added a drop of cherry liqueur to give it that quintessential pink hue.

“Is there anything in Danny’s house that’s pink?” Aaron asked, a thought flashing through his brain.

“Pink?” Howard asked, confused. “I’m pretty sure he—”

“The bathroom,” Betsy exclaimed. She leaned closer to Aaron and burst, “There is a picture of a pink shoe on the wall in his guest bathroom.”

“Really?” Howard said. “I’ve never seen that.”

Aaron nodded. “Betsy. What did you do in the Tempe Market after brunch that day? Do you remember?”

“It was quite a while ago,” Howard said, but he looked expectantly at his wife.

She sat there, her mouth pursing and relaxing, her brow wrinkling, and then finally she smiled. “We went into a little shop where they had knickknacks, pictures in frames, curiosities, and things like that. Danny bought something there.”

“Do you think it was that pink shoe picture?”

“Maybe. We were talking about his next project, and so I wasn’t really paying attention closely, but—"

“Let’s go,” Howard said suddenly.

“Thank you, Aaron,” Betsy said, she got up from her chair and went around to the bartender. Leaning down, she kissed him on the cheek. “I think you just solved our puzzle.”

Aaron watched as they exited the restaurant quickly.

He wondered if they would find anything. He didn’t know what a pink shoe could possibly mean.

***

“You got a card from someone,” Juan said, handing an envelope to Aaron.

“A card? Here?” Aaron said, ripping it open. Inside was a lovely parchment paper card with a pink ribbon on it. It said, ‘Thank you’.

He opened it and read the note.

Aaron,

You figured it out!!! You’ll never believe it. We went right to Danny’s house, and we found that picture. We’d put it in a box to donate to Goodwill. It would’ve been gone in just a few days’ time. Lost forever.

After searching every photo and book in the living room around his bookcase, we thought we’d looked everywhere. But, it all makes sense when you realize two things. First, Danny wasn’t pointing at the bookcase. He was pointing to the bathroom located on the other side of the wall behind the living room. Second, that picture with the pink shoes was titled Bellini Pink.

We opened the frame, and sure enough, there was a bank card and a note. It’s in our name, and Danny said the money is meant for taking care of Olivia.

We would never have found it without you. Thank you for solving Danny’s mystery. Olivia will have an easier life because of it.

Your friends forever,

Howard and Betsy

Aaron smiled and scratched his cheek. He didn’t even hear the raspy sound of his five-o’clock shadow, but he could see the happy couple beaming in relief.

That’s why he waited on people.