Industry (Part 1) - Completed

Martin lived in an apartment on the Northeast side of town. Seven stories up. Isabella knocked on the apartment number she had been given. It opened, revealing a smiling Martin, in a black apron, holding a spoon.

She had taken extra time to fix her hair and make herself look presentable before coming. Not that she had many products to help. Just a fading mascara tube and some salt water. Even with the extra effort, she didn’t expect Martin’s reaction.

“Bella, you look amazing!” He stepped back, holding the door open as she maneuvered Alice’s stroller past him.

Alice looked up at Martin and scrunched her fingers in a tiny wave, babbling through her spit bubbles.

“Hello to you too, Little Princess!” Martin wiggled his fingers back before turning to Isabella. “I’m about done in the kitchen. You can take her into the dining room—there’s a high chair set up, but you might need to adjust the straps.”

“Thank you,” Isabella replied, impressed by his foresight.

“I’ll be right in.”

The apartment wasn’t huge or gaudy, but it was nice enough that Isabella stayed hyper-aware of Alice’s little hands, preventing her from touching the paintings and vases as she carried her to the dining room. The table was already set, and Martin reappeared with the gravy just as Isabella finished buckling the baby in.

They ate and talked. Or, rather, Martin talked. He told her about his family, how he inherited his first restaurant from his parents. “They weren’t just business owners,” he explained, gesturing with his fork, “they were visionaries. I took what they built and made it better—expanded, modernized, really turned it into something people respect.”

“That’s great,” Isabella said politely, taking another bite.

“After that, I opened another restaurant. And once I had two, I figured—why stop there, right?” He chuckled. “So I bought two more, started the catering company… The way I see it, hard work is always rewarded. You just have to be smart about it.”

She nodded, matching his slow pace of eating just to be polite.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly. “Any family around?”

Isabella shrugged moving an agitated Alice from the highchair and into a conveniently available play pen. “Not really.”

Martin paused, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he leaned back. “And what do you do for work? I remember you mentioning something about a restaurant before.”

“I nanny mostly,” she said, keeping her voice even. “A few different families.”

“That’s smart,” Martin said approvingly. “Flexibility, decent pay—especially if you get the right connections.” He grinned and pointed his fork at her. “You know, I could use someone like you in one of my restaurants.”

“Oh?” Isabella took a sip of water.

“Yeah," Martin stood to clear the plates and returned with pie, "You start as a hostess or server, entry pay isn’t bad, and eventually—if you stick with it—you could have a salaried position. Manager, chef, whatever you want. And I know people who can help with babysitting while you work.”

“That’s really generous,” she said, offering a noncommittal smile. “Maybe after I graduate.”

“Of course, of course,” Martin said smoothly. “No rush. I’ll check what I have open and give you a call.”

She nodded and finished her pie. Before she could stand up, Martin stood and cleared the dishes again.

They talked for a few more minutes, Martin got Isabella's number to forward job opportunities. Then she stood to leave. “Thanks again for dinner—”

But when she went to gather Alice, the baby was asleep on the floor of the playpen.

Martin sighed, shaking his head. “Would be a shame to wake her.” He set his napkin down and suddenly stood. “Tell you what. Why don’t you guys just stay the night? I’ve got a pop-up crib around here somewhere. Let me grab it.” He was already moving down the hallway.

“Wait—” Isabella started.

“No, no, no,” Martin called back, his tone shifting. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Isabella swallowed thickly, glancing at Alice’s peaceful face.

Fighting men was a waste of time.

She sat back down.