Part 3 — Room One Twelve
Mr. Kowalski turned a page in his grade book. “In April of 1984, Linda took Susan recipe notebook from her locker and photocopied every page,” he said. “I found the copies in the supply closet. I made her return the original, and I kept the copies.”
He held up a stack of yellowed pages, each marked with a date stamp and Linda initials in the corner. A murmur rolled through the banquet hall.
Linda rose, trying to smile. “That was a silly teenage prank,” she said. Mr. Kowalski looked at her over his glasses. “A prank ends in 1984, young lady. A box that says Original Recipe Since 1983 is a decision made last week.”
Linda husband asked her quietly, in front of everyone, whether she had a lawyer. I had already consulted one. Ohio consumer protection law deals directly with false labels, and she had my recipe card, the grade book, and the photocopies to answer to.
A grade book keeps a promise longer than most people keep a secret.
The matter settled within a month. Linda Rolls corrected its label. The new box reads, Created by Susan Novak, 1983. The company paid me a settlement of $450,000 and a three percent royalty on the orange-buttermilk roll, and agreed to a corrective advertising notice with the Ohio attorney general office.
Linda called me the day the papers were signed. Her voice was thin. “I was jealous of you for forty years,” she said. “I am sorry, Sue.” I told her I had missed my friend, and that I would be glad to share a coffee.
I used the settlement to open a bakery on Lorain Avenue in Cleveland. It is called Sue Orange Rolls, and my grandmother recipe card hangs in a frame over the register.
Mr. Kowalski, ninety-two, cut the ribbon in his suspenders. His granddaughter wheeled him to the front counter, and I handed him a warm roll on a paper plate.
He took one bite, closed his eyes, and nodded slowly. “A-plus,” he said, “as always.”
Half of my high school class lined up out the door that morning. At the front of the line, holding a bakery box and smiling shyly, was Linda.