backbone…”
“Absolutely! Then there’s Camille and Grayson and their precious Andrew…”
I told Pearl all about how they treated one another, but of course she already knew every detail of the whole saga anyway. I guessed she just wanted to hear it from me. Still, she sighed and shook her head.
“Ain’t right. But don’t you worry.”
She ladled the rice and collards into two covered dishes, sliced the ham, placed it on a meat platter, put the fruitcake in a bain-marie and into the oven on low heat. The biscuits were almost too hot to handle. Still, she wrapped them in a linen cloth and put them in a beautiful sweetgrass basket.
The crushing urge to taste one overwhelmed me and I said, “May I?”
“Of course! ’Eah!”
“Thank you!” I couldn’t get it into my mouth fast enough! Where did my appetite come from? I was as hungry as a teenage boy! “Oh, Pearl!”
“Light as a feather from a cherub’s wing, huh?” She looked up to the ceiling with her hands folded in prayer; a little feather fell from the thin air and I giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Hmmph,” she said, “this situation ain’t funny!” Despite the truth of her observation, she giggled, too. “Now, that cake gwine take two to three hours,” she said, and changed into a fresh apron.
“Do you want me to call them to the table?”
“No’m.”
“Pearl? You don’t have to say no’m or yes’m or ma’am to me. No one does that anymore, either.”
“Ms. Theodora? You can keep your plastic wrap, your television, and your microwave oven and I’ll just keep my manners, ’eah? Besides, in the ’eah and now, I’m fabulous and forty-seven and you be my elder. By a lot! ’Eah?”
We laughed so hard at that! I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed such a robust laugh!
She slapped her warm hand on top of my cold one and said, “I’m going to call Ms. Barbara to tell the others to get their fannies to the table but quick!”
Oh, my word! Pearl was so mind-boggling, and even though it was logically and physically impossiblethat she was there with me, with us, she was . I wondered again how she would bring about the transformation we all needed and then I remembered what she had said about getting here in the first place…Maybe dinner would help things along.
I reminded myself to have faith.
There was a lot to be said about Pearl’s cooking. First of all, it had greatly improved since she died. This became evident once we were all seated in our accustomed places and an off-the-cuff, disingenuous, slap-hazard, perfunctory, record-breaking blessing for our food had been offered by Cleland. Usually as rambunctious as a bunch of pirates, the dining-room table was as silent as could be as everyone devoured—I mean devoured like a pack of wild starving wolves—what Pearl had prepared.
Unfortunately, as soon as lunch was over, the spell was broken. Pearl came into the dining room to clear the plates.
“What’s that smell, Jewel?” George said, leaning back in his chair.
“Pearl,” Pearl said sweetly. “Fruitcake.”
“You’re going to break the legs of that chair, son,” Barbara said, and as you might expect, she was ignored.
“Fruitcake! Oh no! I hate fruitcake!” Cleland said with a juvenile scowl, opening the door for further dissent to fly right in on the wind.
“I thought Eliza said your name was Jewel,” Barbara said.
“I reckon Eliza got her gems confused,” Pearl said.
“Fruitcake’s nasty, ” George said.
“You don’t have to eat it, then, George,” I said. “But we’ll see what we see when it’s all done.” My money, the smart money, was on Pearl.
“By and by, you gwine come to love my fruitcake,” Pearl said, smiling at George and Cleland. “Then you gwine miss it when it’s gone, ’eah?”
Little Teddie exchanged looks of horror and disgust with her father, George, and threw in more than a few escalating gagging sounds for emphasis.
Lynette held her fingers up to
“Absolutely! Then there’s Camille and Grayson and their precious Andrew…”
I told Pearl all about how they treated one another, but of course she already knew every detail of the whole saga anyway. I guessed she just wanted to hear it from me. Still, she sighed and shook her head.
“Ain’t right. But don’t you worry.”
She ladled the rice and collards into two covered dishes, sliced the ham, placed it on a meat platter, put the fruitcake in a bain-marie and into the oven on low heat. The biscuits were almost too hot to handle. Still, she wrapped them in a linen cloth and put them in a beautiful sweetgrass basket.
The crushing urge to taste one overwhelmed me and I said, “May I?”
“Of course! ’Eah!”
“Thank you!” I couldn’t get it into my mouth fast enough! Where did my appetite come from? I was as hungry as a teenage boy! “Oh, Pearl!”
“Light as a feather from a cherub’s wing, huh?” She looked up to the ceiling with her hands folded in prayer; a little feather fell from the thin air and I giggled like a schoolgirl.
“Hmmph,” she said, “this situation ain’t funny!” Despite the truth of her observation, she giggled, too. “Now, that cake gwine take two to three hours,” she said, and changed into a fresh apron.
“Do you want me to call them to the table?”
“No’m.”
“Pearl? You don’t have to say no’m or yes’m or ma’am to me. No one does that anymore, either.”
“Ms. Theodora? You can keep your plastic wrap, your television, and your microwave oven and I’ll just keep my manners, ’eah? Besides, in the ’eah and now, I’m fabulous and forty-seven and you be my elder. By a lot! ’Eah?”
We laughed so hard at that! I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed such a robust laugh!
She slapped her warm hand on top of my cold one and said, “I’m going to call Ms. Barbara to tell the others to get their fannies to the table but quick!”
Oh, my word! Pearl was so mind-boggling, and even though it was logically and physically impossiblethat she was there with me, with us, she was . I wondered again how she would bring about the transformation we all needed and then I remembered what she had said about getting here in the first place…Maybe dinner would help things along.
I reminded myself to have faith.
There was a lot to be said about Pearl’s cooking. First of all, it had greatly improved since she died. This became evident once we were all seated in our accustomed places and an off-the-cuff, disingenuous, slap-hazard, perfunctory, record-breaking blessing for our food had been offered by Cleland. Usually as rambunctious as a bunch of pirates, the dining-room table was as silent as could be as everyone devoured—I mean devoured like a pack of wild starving wolves—what Pearl had prepared.
Unfortunately, as soon as lunch was over, the spell was broken. Pearl came into the dining room to clear the plates.
“What’s that smell, Jewel?” George said, leaning back in his chair.
“Pearl,” Pearl said sweetly. “Fruitcake.”
“You’re going to break the legs of that chair, son,” Barbara said, and as you might expect, she was ignored.
“Fruitcake! Oh no! I hate fruitcake!” Cleland said with a juvenile scowl, opening the door for further dissent to fly right in on the wind.
“I thought Eliza said your name was Jewel,” Barbara said.
“I reckon Eliza got her gems confused,” Pearl said.
“Fruitcake’s nasty, ” George said.
“You don’t have to eat it, then, George,” I said. “But we’ll see what we see when it’s all done.” My money, the smart money, was on Pearl.
“By and by, you gwine come to love my fruitcake,” Pearl said, smiling at George and Cleland. “Then you gwine miss it when it’s gone, ’eah?”
Little Teddie exchanged looks of horror and disgust with her father, George, and threw in more than a few escalating gagging sounds for emphasis.
Lynette held her fingers up to
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