Chapter 9
The Workshop
A couple of days after their kitchen table family tree talk, Amelia was up early enough to catch her dad still sitting at the table, reading the paper with the radio crackling in the background. William folded up his paper and laid it down.
“I stopped in to have a chat with Ms. Kramer,” William said. “I thought it might be worthwhile to see what else we don’t
know.”
“And?” Amelia asked. “Did she share with you the same stuff she told me and Veyla?”
“She did.” William confirmed. “But she also shared another nugget I thought you’d be interested in.”
Amelia looked up expectantly. “Go on.”
“Did she show you the stand your grandfather made? The one holding the meteor?”
“Of course she did. She made it a point to tell us what a craftsman he was.” Amelia told him. “I think the phrase she used was ‘Renaissance Man.’”
“Well, there you have it,” William said. “It sounds like we got the same tour.” He continued, “After she got through showing me some of the other things he made that were scattered around the building, I asked her about the cabin. She was surprised to hear that we didn’t know about it. She had a bunch of stories about celebrating the early Sundance Solstice parties held out there.”
“Yeah yeah yeah, dad, I know. I heard the same stories,” Amelia said, spinning her finger in an attempt to get William to speed up his big reveal. “What’s the new stuff?”
“So as we’re talking about the cabin, and Ms. Kramer is pointing out this and that project your grandfather worked on around the Historical Society, it dawned on me that these were serious projects he undertook. The things he built would’ve required some legit equipment. Which means he must have had a workshop.”
Amelia’s eyes widened at this prospect. “Now we’re cooking with gas!” she squealed.
“Actually, it’s wood,” William corrected her.
Amelia scrunched up her nose and slightly tilted her head to the side. “Huh?”
“Wood,” William repeated. “Now we’re cooking with wood.” He said this as if that cleared up his point.
But Amelia had no idea what he was talking about. Which made William smile. He knew he had her off-balance. And he was going to keep her there as long as he could.
After a couple minutes of a silent stare-off, Amelia cracked. “Okay. You win whatever this game is. I give up. Uncle.”
William raised his eyebrows, “You’re getting warmer.”
Amelia continued staring at him. His face didn’t reveal anything. “Oh I get it. Ms. Kramer actually didn’t have anything new to offer. You are just screwing with me. Good one, dad.”
This reverse psychology attempt only served to make William smile harder.
“Uncle Smokey,” William finally said.
“What about him?”
“The pizza shop used to be your grandfather’s workshop. So you see, we’re actually cooking with wood – not gas.” He shrugged as he said this. “It’s where he forged that stand in the Historical Society. And everything else he worked on. Ms. Kramer said that after your grandparents’ died, your mother inherited the building. But she still had two more years left at school. She didn’t want the headache of maintaining the property. So she sold it. And then it just sat there, boarded up until Smokey decided to turn it into a pizza shop.”
The insides of Amelia’s head were whizzing around at a million miles an hour. She visualized the pizza shop, she watched herself walk through it, looking at the space – at least in her mind’s eye – with a new perspective.
“Uncle Smokes said that the reason the inside design is so funky is because he used stuff he found in the building.”
Amelia’s tongue was trying to keep up with her brain. “So does that mean that the pictures on the wall were actually grandpa’s drawings? I mean, it has to mean that, right? Do you think Uncle Smokey knew that? Did he know the connection between the building and grandpa?”
“I doubt it. He’d have no reason to inquire about the previous owners outside of understanding how the building had been used. I just think it’s pretty cool that you’ve actually been surrounded by your grandparents all this time. Even if you didn’t know it.”
With that, William stood up. “Time to head to the office.” He walked over to Amelia and kissed her on the top of her head.
“Have a good day. I’ll be back for dinner.”
Amelia heard Johnny Cash fire up and then fade away. Stand- ing in the kitchen, the house was quiet – save for the occa- sional snore echoing down the stairs. Artemis was still sound asleep. Amelia knew he would stay asleep for a while longer.
She grabbed a banana, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and headed out the door. She needed more answers.
***
Technically, the pizza shop didn’t open until 11.30am. But Amelia knew that Smokey would be there this early. He practically lived in the shop. Between the morning food deliveries and the night prep that went into getting his dough ready, Smokey put in long days. Though, if he were being honest, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Arriving at the shop, Amelia found one garage bay door open. The beer delivery guy was wheeling a keg on a dolly into the restaurant. She tucked in behind him.
Once inside, Amelia saw that the news was playing on the television above the bar. According to the chyron, the woman on the screen was a marine biologist. “Whale Expert Weighs In” scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Below the television sat Smokey, his back to the door. He was going over the invoices line by line, making sure he received what the delivery guys said he did.
She’d always listen as Smokey told her dad stories about running a restaurant. From what she could gather, it was not for the faint of heart. “There’s always someone trying to screw ya,” he’d say to William over a beer. “Even after all these years, these guys try to send me rotten tomatoes. They think they can hide them at the bottom of the box and I won’t notice.” He’d shake his head, take a swig, and smile. “But it sure beats workin’ for a livin’.”
Wearing his reading glasses, twirling a red pen in his hand, Amelia watched as he circled here, then there, a big slash, and a question mark. Smokey was so focused that it took him a minute to realize that Amelia had hopped up onto the barstool next to him. He peered at her over his glasses as a smile broadened across his face. “Meemers! What a pleasant surprise – and I do mean surprise. Rumor has it you often don’t appear before 10am?”
“You can’t always believe what you hear. Besides, I heard this was a good place for some breakfast pizza,” she answered.
Smokey’s eyes lit up. “Are you hungry, kid? I can whip you up something real fast.”
“No, no, no. I was just kidding Uncle Smokes.” Amelia laughed. “I stopped by because I have a couple of questions I’m hoping
you can help me with.”
“Really?” This caught Smokey off guard. Despite thinking of him as family, Amelia never came to him for non-pizza stuff.
“Okay. Uh, sure. What’s up?”
Amelia got right to the point. “Did you know this used to be my grandfather’s workshop?”
“What?!?” Smokey asked.
“Yeah, I guess this is where he built all his cool stuff.” Amelia answered. “Have you ever been over to the Historical Society? Well, he did a bunch of work over there. Like the stand that holds the Sundance meteor. And he even built a cabin out by Thunder Lake. He was a real artist!”
All of this came as news to Smokey. “Your dad never said a thing about any of this.”
“He just found out,” Amelia said with a wave of her hand. “Anyhow, I know the stuff you hung up on the wall is all stuff you found here.” As she said this, Amelia pointed in the general direction of the framed sketches on the wall. “After seeing the stuff my grandpa made, these pencil drawings actually make a lot more sense. So I was wondering if you
came across any more cool stuff that he might have made?”
Smokey sat looking at her, his right arm folded across his chest holding the opposite bicep. He rubbed the side of his head with his left hand. “Geez, Amelia, I don’t think that I do. There really wasn’t much in here when I bought the place. It was actually one of the biggest factors in deciding to buy the building. It was in great shape and didn’t need an expensive clean out.” He watched Amelia deflate in front of him. “I’m sorry, Meemers.”
Putting on her best face, Amelia said, “Ah, no big deal. I knew it was a long shot anyway.”
As she said, she saw Smokey’s eyebrows jump to the top of his forehead.
“But you know what, I think I have more of these sketches somewhere in the basement.”
Amelia perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ve even looked at them since I opened the shop. But I’m pretty sure I know where they are.” Smokey stood up from his stool. “C’mon. Let’s take a quick look before I have to start making pies.”
Amelia hopped off the barstool, following Smokey behind the bar and then down the stairs tucked away in the corner. She’d never been down in the basement before. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Amelia looked around, taking inventory of all the dry goods that lined the wall. The space was filled with bags of flour and cans of tomatoes.
Smokey flipped a switch and kept walking towards the back of the building, ducking to avoid a low beam here and there. The overhead lights turned on in sections, as if anticipating his walking through just in time. He called over his shoulder, telling Amelia to stay where she was, he’d be right back.
With the basement totally lit up, Amelia was better able to scan the shelves. Beyond the flour and tomatoes, she laid eyes on the bottles of “liquid gold” – that’s what Smokey called his olive oil. Of course, the brand he used was “the best” – “freshly picked and processed on a small Italian estate.” He promised to take her to Italy once she was done with high school so she could witness the experience in person.
Taking a couple steps forward, Amelia found herself standing in front of a cooler. She opened the door, revealing kegs of beer sitting up off the floor on a small stage. Their hoses slithering up the wall to the bar overhead. As she looked around, she could hear Smokey farther back in the basement. The clang of metal filing cabinet doors closing bounced off the walls.
Closing the cooler door, Amelia saw something in the shadows, up against the wall. The light didn’t reach back there which made it hard for her to make out what it was. Moving closer to it Amelia saw that it was a big stone something-or-other. It had a pipe going into it and then a network of pipes coming out. Running her hand along the side of it she found the stone smooth and cool. She also found something else as her hand moved over a rough patch. Amelia leaned in, hoping to see what it was. Getting in close she could make out an etching of some sort. Tracing the pattern with her finger triggered a connection she couldn’t pinpoint.
“Here we are.”
Smokey’s voice made her jump out of her skin.
“Whoa. Easy kiddo,” he said to Amelia. “Sorry to scare you.”
Amelia, clearing the cobwebs, tried to play it off cool. “Scare me? What’re you talking about?” she said. “I was just checking this thing out.” Amelia patted the stone structure.
“What is it?”
Smokey looked at her. A grin started to form on his face. “That, my dear Meemers, is my secret ingredient.”
Amelia didn’t understand. “So what’s the ingredient?”
“You know how all those New Yorkers come out here for the Spectacular and tell me how their pizza is the best because of their water?”
Amelia – who had the unfortunate luck to sit in a booth next to such New Yorkers a couple summers ago – nodded.
“Well, my pizza is better because my water is better.” Smokey’s grin blossomed into a full blown smile. He couldn’t help himself. “And it’s all because of that thing right there.” He lovingly patted the structure Amelia stood next to. “That right there is the purest water filtration system I’ve ever seen. Heck, it’s the best filter anyone’s seen for that matter.”
Amelia stepped away, moving next to where Smokey stood. As both of them stared at the stone water filter, Amelia asked the obvious question. “Well, what makes it so special?”
Smokey shook his head, almost unconsciously, as he consid- ered her question. After a thoughtful silence, he asked in a low, serious voice, “Can you promise to keep a secret?” It was a tone Amelia had never heard him use before.
“Of course, Uncle Smokes. You know that.” Amelia reassured him.
Smokey scratched his chin and then moved his hand along his neck and up the back of his head, where he began to rub the slightly balding patch on top. Amelia could tell he wasn’t sure if he should share whatever he was thinking about.
“Well, Meemers, to be honest with you, I have absolutely no idea how it works. And neither do any of the so-called filtration “experts.” I’ve had every filtration egghead west of the Mississippi out here to give me some insight. Even had a few come from out east. But they all say the same thing: “This is the purest water we’ve ever tested. And we don’t know why.” So, while I am blessed to have this as my secret weapon, I have absolutely no idea how or why it does what it does. I just know it does.”
Amelia studied Smokey as he shared this with her. It looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he told her this. “And staying on this truth train, you’re the first person I’ve admitted that to,” Smokey confirmed. “I pride myself on my pies. If word got out that it wasn’t my doing, that I was somehow faking my way to the top, well I don’t know what I’d do.”
Outside of her dad, this was Amelia’s first experience with an emotive adult. For it to be her Uncle Smokey was kinda wild. Amelia felt like she was handling it about as well as an awkward turtle. She didn’t know what to say. So she just said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s cool, Uncle Smokes. I’m sure my grandpa would be happy to see you putting it to such good use.”
Her grandpa? Uhm, what? Where did that come from, Amelia wondered to herself.
But if Smokey thought it was strange that Amelia credited a partial piece of his pizza success to her grandfather’s doing, he glossed right over it. “Thanks, Meemers. You know what they say: to those whom much is given much is expected.” He paused for a second, thinking about what he just said. “And oh, hey, speaking of your grandpa, here you go.” He was holding a stack of papers. “These are the rest of the papers I found when renovating the shop. I think I found most of these rolled up in the ceiling. I don’t really remember why they didn’t make the wall other than some of them were a little bit out there.” He handed her the stack. “Anyhow, they’re all yours.”
Now it was Amelia’s turn to smile. “Thanks Uncle Smokes! This is awesome. I can’t wait to go through them all.” She slung her backpack around to the front, unzipped it, and placed the papers inside. “Before I get going, what do you think about a slice for the road?”
Smokey checked his watch. “I guess it’s close enough to opening time.” He stepped aside. “Alright, after you. Let’s see what we can get you squared away with.”