increasing, and Audrey knew all the men were now up and would arrive downstairs before long. She cut the last biscuits and then slid the pan into the oven. While the biscuits baked, she turned the bacon and filled two jelly dishes, one with grapefruit marmalade, the other with scuppernong jelly. There would be grits, though the men would quickly pass them down the table to her father. None of them would touch the Southern staple, a behavior that served to reinforce Aunt Thoraâs dislike of them.
Wearing a worn cotton dress, Thora meandered back into the kitchen and tied an apron around her slim waist. âI donât know why youâre making such a big pan of grits. You know those men arenât gonna eat them.â Her aunt was still prepared to banter. âNever trust a man who doesnât love his grits. Itâs a sure sign.â
âIâll remember that.â Audrey knew her response wasnât what was wanted or expected. âWhy donât you set the table while I finish scrambling the eggs? The men will be downstairs in a few minutes.â
âIf breakfast isnât on the table the minute their behinds hit the chairs, it wonât hurt âem to wait. You wonât find Southerners rushinâ a meal.â
Mouth agape, Audrey swirled around. âAunt Thora! What has gotten into you? And what has happened to your Southern hospitality? These men are paying for room and board, and they are required to arrive at work on time. Now, if you donât want to help me, thatâs your decision, but I have a schedule, and I plan to maintain it to the best of my ability.â
âNo need to get yourself in a pucker. Iâll set the table, but just âcause Iâm helping doesnât mean I agree with harboring the enemy.â
Had the men come downstairs early any other morning, Audrey would have been distracted, but today she was pleased to see them. Aunt Thora might not treat them with warmth, but sheâd cease her insults once they entered the dining room. Audrey walked to the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.
âThereâs coffee on the sideboard,â she told the men, âand breakfast will be ready in a few more minutes.â
Audrey motioned to the old woman as she returned to the stove. âWould you fill these bowls? One with the grits and the other with the scrambled eggs. Iâll get the biscuits and bacon.â
âSure are feeding them Yanks some fine food every day,â Thora mumbled as she scooped the grits into the blue pottery bowl. Audrey wanted to counter that the men were paying for their meals, but she refrained.
Aunt Thoraâs grumbling finally ended when they were seated at the table. Audreyâs father offered a prayer of thanks for the meal and asked Godâs blessing on the men as they continued to seek capable workers to oversee clearing of the land where the elaborate clubhouse would be erected. That prayerful request was followed by a grunt from Aunt Thora. Audreyâs father didnât comment on her behavior, but he leveled a stern look in her direction once heâd completed his prayer.
Jim Parks, a burly man and the most experienced of the supervisors, took a drink of his coffee and gave a firm nod. âGood coffee as usual, Miss Audrey. And thank you for your prayer for our work, Boyd. This is going to be a full day, for sure. The three of us are going to Biscayne, where weâll be interviewing a group of men whoâve arrived in answer to ads the investors placed in several newspapers.â
Aunt Thora shifted in her chair. âNorthern or Southern newspapers?â
Mr. Parks hiked one shoulder as he slathered his biscuit with the scuppernong jelly. âDidnât ask. As long as theyâre qualified, I really donât care.â He pointed to the bowl of jelly. âSure do like this. Never heard of scuppernong jelly before. Tastes kind of like grape.â
Aunt Thora
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