Einstein?”
“I’d say ‘you tell me,’ but given the Vietnamese Inquisition here, I’m guessing you don’t know either. Right?”
She’d pushed, he shoved. Best defense is strong offense. Typical man. Good. Reactions she understood made her trust him a little more. She’d have been pissed off in his place, but she’d have concealed her anger, which was much more sensible.
Mary chose that moment to deliver two overflowing blue melamine platters. Kim felt the heat of the food rise up to her face and the mouth-watering aroma started her stomach growling again. “This looks amazing,” she said.
Mary stood by while Kim and Gaspar examined their meals. Kim pressed the bun, delighted by its freshness. Mary might have just baked it. Burgers juicy, lettuce crisp, ripe tomato as thick as a slice of bread, and a thick raw onion slice she’d remove when Mary turned her back. Plenty of calories to sustain Kim for a week.
“I added the Vidalia. You would have ordered it if you were from around here. You can take it off, but after you taste it, you won’t want to,” Mary told them, displaying obvious pride in her creation. “Try mustard on the fries. That’s the way I like ‘em. Save room for pie. Lemon ice box. Made it this morning. Can I freshen your coffee?”
Once she had them settled with their food to her satisfaction, Mary said, “I’m sorry to say this, but we close at three.” She pointed to a round clock above the soda machine behind the counter. It was showing 2:40. “Normally I could stay later, but I’ve got to pick up my boy this afternoon. His daddy can’t make it and I can’t leave him by himself. I don’t mean to rush you, though. Y’all let me know if you need anything else.”
“We’ll do that,” Gaspar said.
Kim watched Mary’s reflection as she retreated to her stool near the kitchen where she pulled a yellow pencil from behind her ear and returned to her newspaper puzzle.
“German inquisition,” she said.
Gaspar looked up from his food. “What?”
“I’m no more Vietnamese than you are.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Born and raised right here in the U.S. of A. One hundred percent American.”
“Me, too. So what? I’m still Cuban. And proud of it.”
“Sure. I get that. That’s my point. I’m still German. Too bad for you. Germans are a lot more stubborn than Vietnamese. We’re more focused, too.”
“I noticed.”
She said, “Mary’s right about the Vidalia onion, though. Fair warning: I’m eating it.”
“Me, too,” he said, and shrugged, as if they were stuck with each other and might as well make the best of it. Mary came back with two slices of lemon pie, a fresh pot of coffee and a new set of issues. “I’m sorry about the rush. If I could stay, I’d do it, really I would. But I just can’t. I brought you the pie on the house to make up for being so rude. And I brought cups if you want to take the coffee to go. Here’s your check,” she said. “I wouldn’t even charge you, but I’d get fired if my boss found out. I hope y’all don’t mind.” Mary’s apology, like everything else about her, was excessive but genuine.
“No worries,” Kim said. “Really. We’ve got to get on the road, anyway.”
Gaspar pulled his wallet from his hip pocket. Number Two pays and keeps the expense records. More paperwork Kim didn’t have to do. She was getting to like being Number One. Gaspar rooted around and unearthed a damp, tri-folded hundred from under the billfold flap.
He said, “I’m sorry. I thought I had something smaller, but my kids must have raided my wallet again.” He flattened the hundred, laid it on top of the check, and handed both to Mary. “It’s old, but it’s still good. I hope you have change?”
Mary stared at the Franklin as if he’d handed her a dead frog or maybe a live snake. Her face transformed from apologetic to confused to shocked. She squinted out the window checking the parking
“I’d say ‘you tell me,’ but given the Vietnamese Inquisition here, I’m guessing you don’t know either. Right?”
She’d pushed, he shoved. Best defense is strong offense. Typical man. Good. Reactions she understood made her trust him a little more. She’d have been pissed off in his place, but she’d have concealed her anger, which was much more sensible.
Mary chose that moment to deliver two overflowing blue melamine platters. Kim felt the heat of the food rise up to her face and the mouth-watering aroma started her stomach growling again. “This looks amazing,” she said.
Mary stood by while Kim and Gaspar examined their meals. Kim pressed the bun, delighted by its freshness. Mary might have just baked it. Burgers juicy, lettuce crisp, ripe tomato as thick as a slice of bread, and a thick raw onion slice she’d remove when Mary turned her back. Plenty of calories to sustain Kim for a week.
“I added the Vidalia. You would have ordered it if you were from around here. You can take it off, but after you taste it, you won’t want to,” Mary told them, displaying obvious pride in her creation. “Try mustard on the fries. That’s the way I like ‘em. Save room for pie. Lemon ice box. Made it this morning. Can I freshen your coffee?”
Once she had them settled with their food to her satisfaction, Mary said, “I’m sorry to say this, but we close at three.” She pointed to a round clock above the soda machine behind the counter. It was showing 2:40. “Normally I could stay later, but I’ve got to pick up my boy this afternoon. His daddy can’t make it and I can’t leave him by himself. I don’t mean to rush you, though. Y’all let me know if you need anything else.”
“We’ll do that,” Gaspar said.
Kim watched Mary’s reflection as she retreated to her stool near the kitchen where she pulled a yellow pencil from behind her ear and returned to her newspaper puzzle.
“German inquisition,” she said.
Gaspar looked up from his food. “What?”
“I’m no more Vietnamese than you are.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Born and raised right here in the U.S. of A. One hundred percent American.”
“Me, too. So what? I’m still Cuban. And proud of it.”
“Sure. I get that. That’s my point. I’m still German. Too bad for you. Germans are a lot more stubborn than Vietnamese. We’re more focused, too.”
“I noticed.”
She said, “Mary’s right about the Vidalia onion, though. Fair warning: I’m eating it.”
“Me, too,” he said, and shrugged, as if they were stuck with each other and might as well make the best of it. Mary came back with two slices of lemon pie, a fresh pot of coffee and a new set of issues. “I’m sorry about the rush. If I could stay, I’d do it, really I would. But I just can’t. I brought you the pie on the house to make up for being so rude. And I brought cups if you want to take the coffee to go. Here’s your check,” she said. “I wouldn’t even charge you, but I’d get fired if my boss found out. I hope y’all don’t mind.” Mary’s apology, like everything else about her, was excessive but genuine.
“No worries,” Kim said. “Really. We’ve got to get on the road, anyway.”
Gaspar pulled his wallet from his hip pocket. Number Two pays and keeps the expense records. More paperwork Kim didn’t have to do. She was getting to like being Number One. Gaspar rooted around and unearthed a damp, tri-folded hundred from under the billfold flap.
He said, “I’m sorry. I thought I had something smaller, but my kids must have raided my wallet again.” He flattened the hundred, laid it on top of the check, and handed both to Mary. “It’s old, but it’s still good. I hope you have change?”
Mary stared at the Franklin as if he’d handed her a dead frog or maybe a live snake. Her face transformed from apologetic to confused to shocked. She squinted out the window checking the parking
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