Gary Rossi
You started Rossi’s restaurant with Gary, then forced him out of the business a year later. His last known residence was 924 East 1355 South Magna, Utah. Phone number unlisted.
Kier woke the next morning with Sara’s words echoing in his memory. “You left me when I needed you the most. It’s too late; it’s too late.”
Throughout his life Kier had always been good at fixing things. When he was thirteen the gas-powered lawn mower broke halfway through a cutting. While his father called Sears to yell at the clerk who sold them the machine, Kier tore apart the Briggs & Stratton engine. He dissected the block, pulled out the valves, and scraped the ash from the piston. When he put it all back together it ran.
Relationships were something else. Long ago, in college, he thought he was good with people, but not anymore. Too many variables. Too many nuances. Too much unpredictability. He once told Brey, “The more I know people the better I like my car.”
He had no idea how to fix things with Sara, or even if it were possible. He was like a doctor frantically administering CPR to a patient that wouldn’t respond. When do you call it? When do you just pull up the sheet and pronounce time of death?
