In September of 1979 Mac and I went to live at the house my parents had bought, a little wooden dwelling at Friendship named “Angels’ Rest”. We didn’t have a place of our own and were grateful for this temporary roof over our heads. The house was cozy and offered us privacy, something all newlyweds should have!
We settled into a daily routine. Early each morning we walked into the Harbor together, Mac cutting down through the Coconut wharf as I continued on to the high school. We would meet at Momma’s house for lunch, then head back to work. At the end of the school day I would hurry to join Mac at the Pizzeria, where we would sit and discuss plans for the building. Mac was making terrific progress, I was impressed by what he had accomplished with so little money. A friend had loaned him funds for the wood, which was a mix of greenheart and purpleheart from Guyana, and Momma was lending a hand financially as well. Someone had given Mac a stack of lovely red bricks for the oven alcove and there were offers of help and support from many.
I wasn’t happy teaching at the high school and would be leaving as soon as my replacement arrived at the end of October. It was hard for me to focus on the students when my mind was elsewhere. I wanted to be at the building site with Mac, not cooped up in a classroom, and was relieved when the new teacher arrived from the United States. Teaching had been fun at times and I was fond of my students, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
Mac was truly happy while building his restaurant. Working in the sail loft with his father had become increasingly frustrating, Bluesy was set in his ways and didn’t want to hear about modern methods or better thread. The old-fashioned thread Mac was forced to use kept breaking, making the stitching of sails unnecessarily tedious. He didn’t want to be a sail-maker, it wasn’t what he was destined for. Mac had discovered that he loved to build, and the fact that he was good at it pleased him.
With the building nearing completion and my teaching job finished it was time to start thinking seriously. Perhaps it was time to find out how a pizza is made!