“I don’t recall a special dinner when I moved in,” he said, pretending to be upset.
“With what you’re used to eating on the road, I doubt you would have noticed the difference,” Mrs. Winston replied, and Martin Brady laughed again.
“As you can see, I’ll need an ally here, Lorelei. I hope I can count on you.”
“If there’s one thing Lorelei doesn’t need right now, it’s another burden,” Mrs. Winston said.
“Burden? Do I look like anyone’s burden?” he asked with that synthetic smile.
Mrs. McGruder began to serve the main dish. Food had often been a problem for me when I began to attend school. Until then, I, like my sisters, had been brought up on Mrs. Fennel’s special recipes. Even afterward, our dinners at home were different from the food we ate in restaurants because of the herbs she employed in everything. Ironically, perhaps, sweets and what my classmates called junk food never appealed to me, and when I ate them, I was always disappointed. All of us thought there was something magical in what Mrs. Fennel served the family. Even though I felt confident that there was not, I was nervous about being away from her food. On the other hand, I knew that once my sisters left our home to be on their own, they no longer needed anything “magical” to eat. I hoped I had reached that point, too, despite my leaving prematurely.
I convinced myself as I ate that it was only a matter of getting used to it, reeducating my taste buds, so to speak. For the moment, hoping that no one would notice, I reacted to everything only after the others did. I tried to sound enthusiastic.
“I’m sure you have no friends yet,” Naomi said as the dinner progressed. “I have more time to myself these days than I care to have. I’d be happy to show you around, help you shop for your needs. I know where the best shops are, and I’m very up on the latest styles.”
“Well,” Martin Brady said with a teasing smile, “it’s not often I hear Mrs. Addison being so charitable with her time. Better jump on the offer.”
“You’re not in the least bit funny,” Naomi told him.
He covered his face with his hands and moaned. “Oh, the whips and lashes I must bear at the hands of women.”
“Idiot,” she muttered.
“Thank you, Naomi,” I
said. “I appreciate your offer.” I looked at Mrs. Winston, who didn’t seem happy about it.
“So,” Martin said, lowering his hands, “where are you from, Lorelei?”
“Recently, California, Mr. Brady.”
“Oh, you can call me Martin. Please. Where in California?”
“Los Angeles.”
“I worked that market for a year about five years ago. Cutthroat,” he added. “Fierce competition. I sell dental supplies. I’m proud to say I’m my company’s number one salesman in this market. I have a new sample power toothbrush. If you need one, it’s yours.”
“Thank you. I’m fine,” I said.
“Well, one of the first things I notice about a woman is her teeth, and yours look perfect.”
“Thank you.”
“I strongly doubt that’s the first thing you notice about a woman, Martin,” Naomi said.
Mrs. Winston liked that. Martin Brady feigned hurt feelings. “My goodness. You’ll give the young lady the wrong idea about me. My father, it happens, was a Presbyterian minister, and, as Mrs. Winston knows, other Presbyterians of note were Presidents Andrew Jackson, James Knox Polk, James Buchanan, Grover Cleveland, Benjamin Harrison, Woodrow Wilson, and Dwight Eisenhower. My father made me recite that at every Sunday dinner when I was a little boy,” he said, looking to Mrs. Winston for some credit.
“So was Aaron Burr,” Mrs. McGruder muttered as she replenished the jug of water. “Who killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel.”
“Now, it was a fair fight, Mrs. McGruder.”
“Nevertheless, the better man was killed,” she insisted.
“See what I mean, Lorelei, how they pick on me? So, what brought you to Quincy?”
“Why don’t we give the girl some time to settle in before we interrogate her?” Mrs. Winston said sharply.
“Exactly,” Naomi Addison followed.