not, I
don’t want to be without him. I’m happy when we’re together.”
Allison stood and faced her friend. “I’d say
that calls for a little break in my routine.”
Allison made coffee while Marion folded and
unfolded a linen napkin lying on the table. “Do you know where he is?”
“I do,” she said, sitting across from her.
“He told TJ not to tell you. I don’t think he wants you distracting him from
his work.”
Marion rolled her eyes as if to say she wouldn’t be a distraction, but they both knew
the truth. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I told Train I’d stay out of
the shack, but I need some company.” She looked at the clock. “What time does
TJ come home for lunch?”
Allison glanced over her shoulder. “Where’d
the morning go?” She vaulted out of the chair and quickly sliced some of the
bread Marion had eaten last night with Train. Allison moved around the kitchen
assembling some type of meat into a sandwich. With a knife as long as a
machete, Allison sliced a watermelon in half. “I’ll give you an excuse to go to
the shack.” Allison winked as she quartered the halves. “We won’t eat all of
this. I grew it in the garden,” she said with pride. “We had a big fire here
early in the summer. I thought I’d lost everything I’d planted, but wouldn’t
you know it, two watermelon plants, a couple of carrots, and lots of weeds
still managed to grow.” She took a wide strip of burlap and put the watermelon
in the center. After gathering up the sides, she handed it to Marion. “Do you
remember who Cake is?”
Marion ’s
mouth twitched. “I don’t think I made a good first impression.”
“You didn’t.” Allison shrugged. “Who cares?
He didn’t like me either in the beginning, now we’re friends.”
Marion ’s
eyebrows shot up. “You’re married to the boss.” She took the burlap from
Allison. “However, I do need something to make me feel useful.”
Marion passed TJ on the path leading from the house to the shack. “I can take that,”
he said, reaching for the burlap.
“Don’t you dare!” She laughed and spun out
of his reach. “This is the first useful thing I’ve done all day and I’ll not
let you take it from me.” She lifted her chin a little higher and continued
down the path.
“Marion--” He started to say something, but
changed his mind.
“Allison has your lunch ready. You shouldn’t
keep her waiting,” she hollered, then lumbered on with the heavy watermelon.
The shack was a bustle of activity. Tables
ran down the center of the room. In the rear of the building, rows of bunk beds
offered places to rest with absolutely no privacy. Along one wall, Cake had the
set up of a restaurant with a large stove, two deep sinks with water pumps, and
shelves of pots, pans, and mixing bowls. Too numerable to count, metal plates, soup
bowls, and cups filled another.
“Allison wanted you to have this.” She
handed the burlap bundle to Cake. His round belly, round face, and pink cheeks
from standing too long in the heat of a kitchen, reminded her of Santa Claus. “Smells
good,” she said, sniffing deeply of the delicious aromas.
Evidently, the way to win Cake’s friendship
was to compliment his cooking. “Get a bowl.” He had a large wooden spoon in a
pot of simmering chowder. “Here you go, little lady.” He filled her bowl.
Marion froze as she let his words wash over her. Glancing down at her dress, she
supposed she did look like a lady today. “Thank you.” She took the bowl and
held it to her nose. “Mmm.” She grabbed a biscuit and sat at the table closest
to Cake. She might want to be in a room full of people, but Train’s words still
rang in her ears. The last thing she wanted was for him to be uncomfortable
with the people he worked with.
A moment later, Cake ambled over and set a
piece of the watermelon next to her. “Dessert.” He patted her shoulder and
waddled back behind the stove.
“Hello, Miss Marion.” A man
don’t want to be without him. I’m happy when we’re together.”
Allison stood and faced her friend. “I’d say
that calls for a little break in my routine.”
Allison made coffee while Marion folded and
unfolded a linen napkin lying on the table. “Do you know where he is?”
“I do,” she said, sitting across from her.
“He told TJ not to tell you. I don’t think he wants you distracting him from
his work.”
Marion rolled her eyes as if to say she wouldn’t be a distraction, but they both knew
the truth. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I told Train I’d stay out of
the shack, but I need some company.” She looked at the clock. “What time does
TJ come home for lunch?”
Allison glanced over her shoulder. “Where’d
the morning go?” She vaulted out of the chair and quickly sliced some of the
bread Marion had eaten last night with Train. Allison moved around the kitchen
assembling some type of meat into a sandwich. With a knife as long as a
machete, Allison sliced a watermelon in half. “I’ll give you an excuse to go to
the shack.” Allison winked as she quartered the halves. “We won’t eat all of
this. I grew it in the garden,” she said with pride. “We had a big fire here
early in the summer. I thought I’d lost everything I’d planted, but wouldn’t
you know it, two watermelon plants, a couple of carrots, and lots of weeds
still managed to grow.” She took a wide strip of burlap and put the watermelon
in the center. After gathering up the sides, she handed it to Marion. “Do you
remember who Cake is?”
Marion ’s
mouth twitched. “I don’t think I made a good first impression.”
“You didn’t.” Allison shrugged. “Who cares?
He didn’t like me either in the beginning, now we’re friends.”
Marion ’s
eyebrows shot up. “You’re married to the boss.” She took the burlap from
Allison. “However, I do need something to make me feel useful.”
Marion passed TJ on the path leading from the house to the shack. “I can take that,”
he said, reaching for the burlap.
“Don’t you dare!” She laughed and spun out
of his reach. “This is the first useful thing I’ve done all day and I’ll not
let you take it from me.” She lifted her chin a little higher and continued
down the path.
“Marion--” He started to say something, but
changed his mind.
“Allison has your lunch ready. You shouldn’t
keep her waiting,” she hollered, then lumbered on with the heavy watermelon.
The shack was a bustle of activity. Tables
ran down the center of the room. In the rear of the building, rows of bunk beds
offered places to rest with absolutely no privacy. Along one wall, Cake had the
set up of a restaurant with a large stove, two deep sinks with water pumps, and
shelves of pots, pans, and mixing bowls. Too numerable to count, metal plates, soup
bowls, and cups filled another.
“Allison wanted you to have this.” She
handed the burlap bundle to Cake. His round belly, round face, and pink cheeks
from standing too long in the heat of a kitchen, reminded her of Santa Claus. “Smells
good,” she said, sniffing deeply of the delicious aromas.
Evidently, the way to win Cake’s friendship
was to compliment his cooking. “Get a bowl.” He had a large wooden spoon in a
pot of simmering chowder. “Here you go, little lady.” He filled her bowl.
Marion froze as she let his words wash over her. Glancing down at her dress, she
supposed she did look like a lady today. “Thank you.” She took the bowl and
held it to her nose. “Mmm.” She grabbed a biscuit and sat at the table closest
to Cake. She might want to be in a room full of people, but Train’s words still
rang in her ears. The last thing she wanted was for him to be uncomfortable
with the people he worked with.
A moment later, Cake ambled over and set a
piece of the watermelon next to her. “Dessert.” He patted her shoulder and
waddled back behind the stove.
“Hello, Miss Marion.” A man
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