Read Online Livvie's Song by Sharlene MacLaren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sharlene MacLaren
Tags: General Fiction
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gaze at Will. “Got an order for steak ’n’ eggs. He wants the steak done medium and the eggs sunny-side up. Think you can handle that?”
What was it with these two women? Were they conspiring to make him miserable? Determined not to let her condescending tone test his patience, he gave her an overdone smile and snatched up the order. “Coming right up, Miss Cora Mae.” When she started to turn, he said, “By the way, that’s a mighty nice dress you’re wearing. The color suits you.”
Her eyes made a quick downward sweep of her blue gingham garb, and he detected the slightest hint of a blush as she swept a few strands of gray hair off her plain, round face. In truth, the dress had a couple of stains in front and looked to be about as worn as an old saddle. “Why—thank you.” She picked up a damp cloth from the bar and set to wiping empty tables. Within a minute, she’d started humming a little tune.
Will went to the icebox for a meat patty and the prepared potatoes. At the sink, Joe chuckled while he rinsed a chicken under the faucet. “You’re gonna do just fine ’round here, young man,” he said with a grin. “Just fine.”
***
Despite what little information she had on Mr. Taylor’s experience, Livvie found him to exhibit an air of confidence and know-how in the kitchen. She’d watched him fry up a batch of pancakes, crack and separate eggs, slice slabs of bacon and ham, and peel and dice potatoes, as if he’d done each task a thousand times before. And, little though she liked to admit it, it seemed that he would be a fair fill-in for Joe. He’d even started mingling more with the customers, winning them over with his charm, wit, and relaxed demeanor. Yet this made her suspicious. Plenty of people used their charm to gain folks’ trust, only to take off with their money the next minute.
She prayed that would not be the case with Mr. Taylor. Hoped it wouldn’t, rather. She hadn’t been much of a praying woman since Frank’s passing. How could she count on God to give her clear guidance if she didn’t ask for it? There had been a time when she would have prayed good and hard for the right replacement for Joe. Instead, she’d relied on others to find him for her. Yet it struck her as almost providential, the way Mr. Taylor had wandered into her restaurant when her need for a new cook had reached a state of desperation.
At two o’clock, they locked the front door, same as every day, not to reopen till five for supper. Of course, Joe and Mr. Taylor would return earlier than that to get ready for the evening customers. Few people dined there on weeknights, even though Livvie had long tried to lure more patrons into her establishment for dinner Monday through Thursday. She figured most people were too tired after a long day of work to go out again. Of course, the regulars never failed to show, but their orders often consisted of nothing more than a cup of coffee and an occasional bowl of soup. Some days, it hardly seemed worth the extra money and effort to keep the kitchen open from five to seven.
With her tasks completed, Cora Mae scooted out the door at two on the dot. On her heels was Joe, who waved at Mr. Taylor before exiting.
Livvie pulled down the shade on the front door, where the sign that read “Cook Needed” was still taped securely to the pane. In haste, she reached behind the shade and peeled it away, crumpling it into a ball.
“That mean I passed muster, ma’am?”
She pivoted, unaware that Mr. Taylor had been watching. His blue eyes sparked with amusement. “I suppose you handle yourself as if you know your way around a kitchen,” she conceded.
He tugged on that awful beard, as if trying to make it longer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Go ahead, but don’t go getting all cocky and confident, Mr. Taylor. The true test will come once Joe leaves and you’re on your own.”
“Ah. I trust you won’t throw me out on my ear.”
“And I trust that you
What was it with these two women? Were they conspiring to make him miserable? Determined not to let her condescending tone test his patience, he gave her an overdone smile and snatched up the order. “Coming right up, Miss Cora Mae.” When she started to turn, he said, “By the way, that’s a mighty nice dress you’re wearing. The color suits you.”
Her eyes made a quick downward sweep of her blue gingham garb, and he detected the slightest hint of a blush as she swept a few strands of gray hair off her plain, round face. In truth, the dress had a couple of stains in front and looked to be about as worn as an old saddle. “Why—thank you.” She picked up a damp cloth from the bar and set to wiping empty tables. Within a minute, she’d started humming a little tune.
Will went to the icebox for a meat patty and the prepared potatoes. At the sink, Joe chuckled while he rinsed a chicken under the faucet. “You’re gonna do just fine ’round here, young man,” he said with a grin. “Just fine.”
***
Despite what little information she had on Mr. Taylor’s experience, Livvie found him to exhibit an air of confidence and know-how in the kitchen. She’d watched him fry up a batch of pancakes, crack and separate eggs, slice slabs of bacon and ham, and peel and dice potatoes, as if he’d done each task a thousand times before. And, little though she liked to admit it, it seemed that he would be a fair fill-in for Joe. He’d even started mingling more with the customers, winning them over with his charm, wit, and relaxed demeanor. Yet this made her suspicious. Plenty of people used their charm to gain folks’ trust, only to take off with their money the next minute.
She prayed that would not be the case with Mr. Taylor. Hoped it wouldn’t, rather. She hadn’t been much of a praying woman since Frank’s passing. How could she count on God to give her clear guidance if she didn’t ask for it? There had been a time when she would have prayed good and hard for the right replacement for Joe. Instead, she’d relied on others to find him for her. Yet it struck her as almost providential, the way Mr. Taylor had wandered into her restaurant when her need for a new cook had reached a state of desperation.
At two o’clock, they locked the front door, same as every day, not to reopen till five for supper. Of course, Joe and Mr. Taylor would return earlier than that to get ready for the evening customers. Few people dined there on weeknights, even though Livvie had long tried to lure more patrons into her establishment for dinner Monday through Thursday. She figured most people were too tired after a long day of work to go out again. Of course, the regulars never failed to show, but their orders often consisted of nothing more than a cup of coffee and an occasional bowl of soup. Some days, it hardly seemed worth the extra money and effort to keep the kitchen open from five to seven.
With her tasks completed, Cora Mae scooted out the door at two on the dot. On her heels was Joe, who waved at Mr. Taylor before exiting.
Livvie pulled down the shade on the front door, where the sign that read “Cook Needed” was still taped securely to the pane. In haste, she reached behind the shade and peeled it away, crumpling it into a ball.
“That mean I passed muster, ma’am?”
She pivoted, unaware that Mr. Taylor had been watching. His blue eyes sparked with amusement. “I suppose you handle yourself as if you know your way around a kitchen,” she conceded.
He tugged on that awful beard, as if trying to make it longer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Go ahead, but don’t go getting all cocky and confident, Mr. Taylor. The true test will come once Joe leaves and you’re on your own.”
“Ah. I trust you won’t throw me out on my ear.”
“And I trust that you
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