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Dinner
She plated the pork chops just as the old man entered the kitchen, Ephraim on his heels. What kind of name was Ephraim, anyways?
“I’m Gary Brunn,” the old man stuck out a hand, fingers bent with arthritis, age, work, or all three.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Cecilia Chatsworth,” she replied, not knowing if that’s what he wanted.
“Glad ya made yerself at home. What’s fer dinner?” Gary continued, turning towards the table.
She decided simple was better. “Pork chops, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh rolls, and a salad.” She pointed to each dish as she spoke. She noticed Gary and Ephraim stood behind their places at the table as though waiting for something.
“Where’s yer plate?” Gary barked. Ah, that’s what they waited for.
“Uh, I didn’t think…” She hesitated. Gary just stared at her with piercing blue eyes, no less sharp for the many years they had seen. She swallowed. “I’m cooking for you, sir,” she finally stumbled.
“And ya don’t need yer own supper?” Gary raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “If’n yer got ‘nuff, bring yer plate.” With a sharp nod, he and Ephraim sat down, but didn’t reach for any of the food. Not knowing what else to do, Cecilia tried to move quickly in fetching herself a plate, silverware, and a glass of water. Unfortunately she and speedy weren’t friends, and the silverware hit the floor instead of the table.
Ephraim jumped to his feet and picked it up before she could finish setting her glass down.
“Thanks,” she mumbled as she accepted the fork and knife.
“You’re welcome,” he said with yet another smile. Goodness, what did the man have to be so happy about? Or was he just laughing at her?
When she had seated herself, Gary folded his hands and placed them against the edge of the table in front of his plate. Ephraim followed suit, so she figured she should probably do the same.
“Bless us and these thy gifts which we r’ceive from thuh bount’ful goodness, thru Jesus Christ er Lord. A-men,” Gary intoned, Ephraim joining him on the emphatically two-syllabled ‘amen’.
Not knowing what else to do, Cecilia quietly chimed in with her own Amen when they were done. She tried to replay what Gary had said, but the words got lost in her brain. Clearly this was normal here, though, as Ephraim moved right onto dishing up food.
She accepted the various dishes as they were passed around, from Ephraim to her to Gary. She felt bad taking food before it had reached Gary. It was for him, after all. But he didn’t seem to mind, and in fact several times encouraged Ephraim to pick up a dish first. Funny how two men followed such proper table manners, passing dishes clockwise and always using the serving utensils. She had the odd feeling that if she had put out cloth napkins, they would have spread them in their laps.
“Didja find what ya needed?” Gary asked when his plate was full of everything but the green beans.
“Yes, thank you,” Cecilia replied politely. Gary eyed her, but said no more, diving into his mashed potatoes.
“Cecilia, this is heavenly,” Ephraim gushed after barely chewing a bite of his pork.
“Gary, I vote she stays, if I get a vote.” Then he winked at her. She felt herself blushing and forced her attention down to her plate, carefully cutting a green bean.
“Hmmf,” Gary grunted, continuing to eat. Okay, apparently he wasn’t ready to make a decision. Cecilia could live with that.
Ephraim started talking to Gary about some piece of equipment that wasn’t working right, and Cecilia quickly tuned out their discussion of parts and welding and heaven only knows what else. The pork had turned out quite well, plenty moist and not too chewy. The herbed butter gave it a good flavor. The mashed potatoes were fluffy and not too salty. The beans were good, but apparently off the menu for Gary Brunn. And the rolls hadn’t risen quite as much as she wanted them to, but still enough to be passable. She could do better next time.
“Cecilia?” Gary’s gravelly voice interrupted her wandering thoughts.
“Sorry, sir. Yes?” she replied.
“I’d like ter hire ya. Three nights a week okay fer ya?”
Yes! Yes! Yes! “Yes, sir. Do you have a preference for which nights? I currently work late on Wednesdays, but could adjust that if needed.”
“Where d’ya work?”
“Sunrise Salon and Spa on the south end of town. I’m an esthetician,” Cecilia replied by rote.
“Esthe-what? Ya put people out?”
“Oh, no, that’s an anesthesiologist,” she corrected. “I help people with skincare.”
“Hmmf,” Gary replied. “I dun’t mind which nights, long as ya spread ‘em out ‘nuf.”
“All right. Would you like one to be a weekend?”
“Ev’rybody needs a break. Yer should have ‘un, too.”
Did that mean yes or no? She opted for the ‘spread them out’ focus. “Um, okay. How about Monday, Thursday, and Saturday?”
Gary shook his head. “How ’bout Friday ‘stead of Sat’rday?”
“All right.”
“Good,” Gary replied with a nod. “I’ll pay by check ev’ry Friday. Okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
With a final nod from Gary, that seemed to be the end of the discussion. Cecilia peeked at Ephraim, who continued to eat while watching the exchange. He had taken seconds of almost everything, which pleased Cecilia. Gary had taken seconds of potatoes, too, and surprisingly, salad.
With little said, they finished their meals. Cecilia started in on the dishes, shocked when Gary told Ephraim to go help her.
“You don’t have to,” she objected. “Haven’t you worked all day?”
“Sure, but I’m guessing you have, too,” he replied with a shrug. “Drying dishes never hurt anybody.”
So Cecilia washed, Ephraim dried, and Gary wiped the table and swept the floor. Never had Cecilia experienced such a thing, and she didn’t know what to make of it.