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“That’s not what my mama says.”

Olga sounded sad. I couldn’t say why, but it really bothered me. I wanted her to be happy.

“She always tells my sister Alona and me that we don’t want to eat American junk food cuz it’s bad for us and Ukrainian food is better for our health.”

I considered this for a few seconds. I was pretty sure my mom wouldn’t give me food that was bad for us.

“Do you want to try some of mine?” I asked, handing her half of my sandwich.

My mom always told me it was good to share.

Olga’s eyes lit up and she gave me a huge smile. I fell a little bit in love with her right then.

“Really?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to be my girlfriend now.”

Her eyes bounced between my face and the sandwich half that still was suspended between us.

“It’s a deal.”

She snatched the sandwich out of my hand and took a big bite. “This is yummy.”

“It’s because my mom buys the kind with peanut butter and jelly in the same jar,” I told her authoritatively. “It’s the best. But wait until you try the twinkies.”

***

After that, Olga and I were fast friends. I asked my mother for more food in my lunch box every day. I don’t know if she thought I was just really hungry, I was bartering snacks, or if she suspected I was sharing with someone else. Either way, all the way through fifth grade I gave Olga half of my lunch every day.

Sometimes she would share her Ukrainian lunches with me as well. It wasn’t that they were bad – in fact, I loved the thick grain-filled bread that she often paired with spicy mustard and an assortment of meat and cheeses – it was more about Olga not wanting to look like “the foreign girl” as she always told me.

In addition to sharing lunches we often played together on the playground. We were both super smart, so we were assigned to the same honors classes from third grade on. Although we both had our own friends, Olga and I were always in each other’s orbit.

At least until we were ten. That was the year my parents got a divorce. My dad moved away, and my mom moved me and my sister to the suburbs over the summer between fifth and sixth grade. I’d been devastated. I was losing my father, my neighborhood, and my friends, changing schools and moving to some place far away from the city. Even for a normally easy going kid like me, it was a lot to handle.

I said a stoic goodbye to all my friends in the neighborhood, including Olga, then burst into tears the minute my mother pulled our old station wagon away from the curb and headed for the south suburbs. We moved into a house a few blocks from my grandparents, which was great for my mom since she was a single mother and back then, dads mostly only got visitation with their kids on the weekends.

Kids were resilient. Before long I got used to my new school and my new neighborhood and made new friends. Twenty-five years later, I’d almost forgotten about Olga. But when I realized who the cutie at the bar was, it all came rushing back.

My kindergarten girlfriend had grown into a beautiful woman. A smart one too. By the time she finished her second martini, I’d convinced her to move into a corner booth with me to have dinner so we could talk more.

“How long is your break?” she asked, as we perused the menu.

Sweet Cocktails had a variety of appetizers, small plates, and fancy burgers, all of which were perfect for happy hours and dates.

“As long as I want.” At her curious look I said, “I’m actually the owner of the Chicago Sweet Cocktails location.”

“You do?” she asked in surprise. “Is this a chain or something?”

“There are Sweet Cocktail locations all over the world,” I explained. “The company sells limited licensing rights for people who want to buy the concept and open a place of their own without starting from scratch. I visited the location in Los Angeles and really liked the concept of high end cocktails and gourmet small plates in a fancier neighborhood, so I bought in and opened this location.”

“Wow, that’s great. Do you work here full time then? Or how does it work?” she asked.

“Usually when I buy a new business, I work there for six months or so to make sure the roll-out is going okay and that things are going according to plan. I like to get my hands dirty and not just rely on a manager.”

“When you buy a new business?” she echoed. “You’ve done this before?”

“Yeah, I have a company that buys businesses, makes them profitable, and then I sell them for a profit. That’s what I’ll do with Sweet Cocktails eventually.”