Goldy Schulz 01 Catering to Nobody Read Online Free
Author: Diane Mott Davidson
edged away from the drawings and approached his room I could hear the authoritative voice he invariably used when directing one of these adventures. I slid his door open.
". . . and since you have trespassed the space in front of their lair," he announced, "you will be attacked by a low-flying straight line of stringrays-"
"Arch!" I stuck my head into his room. "Hate to interrupt. Breakfast."
He looked up at me from his neatly made bed. He was already wearing his white shirt and black pants. Soon he would cover this outfit with one of our white chef's aprons.
"To be continued," he said, and hung up. Behind the glasses his eyes were inscrutable.
"You're all right?" I said, half statement, half question. "I'm not hungry," he said with straight-lipped calm.
"For eggs or anything. Let's just go."
And so we did. Patty Sue ate all the eggs. We packed the van and set out.
The air was cool but calm, quite different from the snarling frost-blowing beast an October day could be. At eight thousand feet above sea level, snow and cakes fell unexpectedly. After eleven years I'd learned how to adjust the recipes, but driving the van through storms and over ice remains a challenge. This day the aspen leaves moved languidly as the van sputtered out of the driveway's dust. Above, the sky was deep blue and cloudless, as if nature were holding her breath before the first storms. Starting the descent to Main Street, we passed a vacant lot and had a glimpse of the far distance.
"Oh," said Patty Sue, "what is that?"
She was pointing to the town's namesake, the Aspen Meadow, now a large patch of gold in a green-and-brown quilt of trees about seven miles away. This patchwork of fall color nestled at the base of mountains already blanketed with white. I explained to her that that area was known as the Aspen Meadow Wildlife Preserve. There, I added as we turned onto Main Street, the forest was so thick that during dry spells even hikers were barred entry, for fear of forest fire.
"Arch knows all about the Aspen Meadow," I announced, hoping to invite him out of his silence. "He's done drawings as part of his school work."
"You do?" said Patty Sue as she turned to face him. "You have?"
"Oh, I guess," said Arch in a flat voice. "The Webelos hike in for the last pack meeting of the year," he said. "The woods are real deep. We see a lot of deer and elk and foxes and stuff like that. But to get in you have to go down a long dirt road. Fritz fishes the upper Cottonwood in the summer, and Pomeroy Locraft raises bees." He thought for a moment and then explained to Patty Sue, "I used to help Pom with the hives, last spring when I was studying bees."
"And flowers," I added.
"Did you get stung?" Patty Sue asked. "Did you catch fish?"
"I caught some trout," said Arch. He thought for a minute. "The bees never stung me." I looked at him in the mirror. He was shaking his head at Patty Sue, as if he were twenty and she eleven. He explained, "You learn how to be careful. Pomeroy taught me stuff like wearing white around the bees." Arch sighed. "He taught me a lot."
"This Pomeroy," I said to anticipate Patty Sue's next question, "teaches driver ed over at the high school and does the apiary in the summer. Pomeroy is also recently divorced." I stopped at Main Street's one red light and smiled at my housemate. "A new single person in town can be an interesting part of the landscape, too."
"Oh," said Patty Sue.
"Will Dad be at Ms. Smiley's?" asked Arch.
"Yep," I said, and pushed the van's grinding gears into first. "Vonette and Fritz, too. Plus all the teachers from the schools."
Patty Sue said, "I've never seen a dead person." "Don't worry," I assured her, "we're not going to the church at all. Plus it's not that kind of wake. They'll have the funeral and the interment while we're setting up. All we'll see is live people."
Patty Sue paused and then said suddenly, "I never knew anyone who killed herself."
I did not answer but glanced again at Arch in
". . . and since you have trespassed the space in front of their lair," he announced, "you will be attacked by a low-flying straight line of stringrays-"
"Arch!" I stuck my head into his room. "Hate to interrupt. Breakfast."
He looked up at me from his neatly made bed. He was already wearing his white shirt and black pants. Soon he would cover this outfit with one of our white chef's aprons.
"To be continued," he said, and hung up. Behind the glasses his eyes were inscrutable.
"You're all right?" I said, half statement, half question. "I'm not hungry," he said with straight-lipped calm.
"For eggs or anything. Let's just go."
And so we did. Patty Sue ate all the eggs. We packed the van and set out.
The air was cool but calm, quite different from the snarling frost-blowing beast an October day could be. At eight thousand feet above sea level, snow and cakes fell unexpectedly. After eleven years I'd learned how to adjust the recipes, but driving the van through storms and over ice remains a challenge. This day the aspen leaves moved languidly as the van sputtered out of the driveway's dust. Above, the sky was deep blue and cloudless, as if nature were holding her breath before the first storms. Starting the descent to Main Street, we passed a vacant lot and had a glimpse of the far distance.
"Oh," said Patty Sue, "what is that?"
She was pointing to the town's namesake, the Aspen Meadow, now a large patch of gold in a green-and-brown quilt of trees about seven miles away. This patchwork of fall color nestled at the base of mountains already blanketed with white. I explained to her that that area was known as the Aspen Meadow Wildlife Preserve. There, I added as we turned onto Main Street, the forest was so thick that during dry spells even hikers were barred entry, for fear of forest fire.
"Arch knows all about the Aspen Meadow," I announced, hoping to invite him out of his silence. "He's done drawings as part of his school work."
"You do?" said Patty Sue as she turned to face him. "You have?"
"Oh, I guess," said Arch in a flat voice. "The Webelos hike in for the last pack meeting of the year," he said. "The woods are real deep. We see a lot of deer and elk and foxes and stuff like that. But to get in you have to go down a long dirt road. Fritz fishes the upper Cottonwood in the summer, and Pomeroy Locraft raises bees." He thought for a moment and then explained to Patty Sue, "I used to help Pom with the hives, last spring when I was studying bees."
"And flowers," I added.
"Did you get stung?" Patty Sue asked. "Did you catch fish?"
"I caught some trout," said Arch. He thought for a minute. "The bees never stung me." I looked at him in the mirror. He was shaking his head at Patty Sue, as if he were twenty and she eleven. He explained, "You learn how to be careful. Pomeroy taught me stuff like wearing white around the bees." Arch sighed. "He taught me a lot."
"This Pomeroy," I said to anticipate Patty Sue's next question, "teaches driver ed over at the high school and does the apiary in the summer. Pomeroy is also recently divorced." I stopped at Main Street's one red light and smiled at my housemate. "A new single person in town can be an interesting part of the landscape, too."
"Oh," said Patty Sue.
"Will Dad be at Ms. Smiley's?" asked Arch.
"Yep," I said, and pushed the van's grinding gears into first. "Vonette and Fritz, too. Plus all the teachers from the schools."
Patty Sue said, "I've never seen a dead person." "Don't worry," I assured her, "we're not going to the church at all. Plus it's not that kind of wake. They'll have the funeral and the interment while we're setting up. All we'll see is live people."
Patty Sue paused and then said suddenly, "I never knew anyone who killed herself."
I did not answer but glanced again at Arch in
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