Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(10)
“A bit late?” Louie repeated. “It’s already late, and I’m hungry.”
“I’ll bring you a bowl of chips or some pretzels,” Ida said as she hurried toward the kitchen, but as she passed the dining room she saw the other four residents already sitting at the dining room table. No dishes, no glasses, no salt and pepper shakers, just four hungry-looking faces staring back at her.
Before Ida got halfway through her feeble excuse, Laricka suggested she could whip up her famous black cake if Ida had any cocoa in the kitchen.
“Cake?” Louie echoed. “I don’t want cake. I want meat and potatoes.”
“I could do without the potatoes,” Harriet said. “A green salad maybe.”
“Meat and potatoes!” Louie reiterated. “I signed up for meat and potatoes, and that’s what I want.”
Doctor Payne stood and held up the palm of his hand. “Just a minute!” he boomed with an air of authority. “The question of the menu is not debatable. The issue here is time.” He eyed his wristwatch then glared at Ida. “It is now six-twenty. Dinner was supposed to be served at six, which means it is officially late!”
Louie guffawed, “Hey, Doc, you sure you ain’t a brain surgeon?”
Oblivious to the crackle of tension between the two men, Laricka leaned over and whispered loudly, “He said he was a dentist.”
“I realize dinner is late,” Ida replied patiently, “but it will be ready in twenty minutes.” She turned and left before more arguments could erupt.
Doctor Payne stood, checked his watch again, and announced, “That would be precisely six-forty-two, by my watch.” He turned and started off.
“Ease up, Doc,” Louie said. “There ain’t nobody hungrier than me, but dinner’s coming. Instead of acting like the Big Ben timekeeper, why don’t you stick that watch up—”
Harriet let out a raucaus roll of laughter. “That’s telling him, Louie!”
Doctor Payne sneered back at the two of them, then walked off.
“I think he’s angry,” Laricka said.
Harriett let out another roll of laughter.
~
Once in the kitchen, Ida realized she had a bigger problem. In the hustle and bustle of moving she’d forgotten to defrost any meat. The hamburger was a solid chunk of ice, and the only piece of meat not frozen was a single pork chop. After shifting things from place to place and searching through the back of the refrigerator, Ida remembered the storm supplies Jim packed away last summer. She pulled the large brown box from the bottom shelf of the pantry and found seven cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
She opened the cans, emptied them into a baking dish, and popped it into the oven.
In what could be considered record time, she mixed a salad, set out a basket of biscuits, and put dinner on the table.
Louie spooned a large helping onto his plate, but before he lifted the first bite to his mouth Laricka joined hands with Doctor Payne and Harriet and began the mealtime prayer.
“Father God,” she said, “please bless this food and this house and all who enter, and those who do not have—”
“Speed it up,” Louie grumbled. “I’m hungry.”
Although Laricka usually included a long list of those in need of blessing, she ended with a quick “Amen.”
Louie shoveled up several bites of stew then looked over at Ida. “You sure can cook. This stew was worth waiting for.”
Ida smiled and said nothing. Late that night she gathered the Dinty Moore cans she’d hidden under the sink and carried them to the outside garbage can. From that day forward she was careful to plan ahead, and even on the busiest days when Ida baked pies supper was on the table at the dot of six.
~
After the bedroom she had shared with Big Jim was cleaned and polished, Ida ran a second ad in the Chronicle. By week’s end she had rented the room to Wilbur Washington, a retired lawyer with silver hair and a soft-spoken manner. He moved into the master bedroom with a single suitcase, a shopping bag filled with books, and a grey cat named Miss Abby.
On the first evening of Wilbur’s residence, Ida was about to set a bowl of string beans on the table when she caught the image of his face from the corner of her eye. For a fleeting moment she could see Big Jim sitting there. It wasn’t so much Wilbur’s features but something in his mannerisms, the gentle tone of his voice, even the way he would stretch out a long arm and fetch the salt shaker for Laricka who sat next to him.
~
The days of the weeks that followed rushed by and left little time for worry. Every morning Ida got up before six and had breakfast on the table by seven. After the six residents had eaten and the dishes were cleared away, Ida began making pies. But even as her hands flew from task to task, she pictured James and his family. Although the years told her that James would be a man well into his fifties, in her mind he remained young. The wife, Joelle, was faceless. The granddaughter, she imagined as a bouncy teenager who would bring new life to the tired old house.
“Grandma,” Ida muttered every so often, trying on the name for size. It fit perfectly.
Oddly enough she did not hear from Sam Caldwell at all that week, and she also did not receive a bill for his services. Ida simply assumed he was in Cherry Hill tracking down James and his family, which was all well and good with her.
On Sunday evening Sam Caldwell telephoned. “I’ve put together a report on my findings. Would it be okay if I stop by tomorrow morning to go over it with you?”