Two Bites Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  He gestured toward the wagon. It wasn’t quite what she expected of a hay wagon, either. When she thought of hay rides she’d been on, she remembered sinking into mounds of loose hay. This time, the bales were deliberately positioned in tiers with plenty of room left for sitting or standing. A cloth or sheet covered the second highest tier, which backed up to the top layer creating a makeshift bench. Sarah assumed that was where the mayor, RahRah, and she would sit, the cloth protecting them from any prickly strands of straw.

  Her assumption was confirmed by the mayor, his eyes focused on the highest tiers. “Isn’t this perfect?”

  Remembering what her mother instilled in her about lying, Sarah couldn’t bring herself to voice a response. Instead, she simply nodded.

  The mayor beamed. “We might as well get in position. We’re leading the parade. There’s a small ladder on the other side of the wagon. Let me go first so you can hand RahRah to me. That way you’ll have both hands free on the ladder.”

  Sarah followed him around to the other side of the wagon, where a young man she didn’t know stood. She was relieved to see, rather than being a real ladder, four narrow portable steps were pushed flush against the truck. The mayor easily scampered up them and reached down for RahRah’s carrier. Sarah was glad he did. Even when the young man moved behind her like a safety monitor, she felt a little shaky because the steps lacked a guardrail.

  After she mounted the wagon and took RahRah back from the mayor, the young man picked up the steps and handed them to the mayor. He stowed them in a corner behind a bale of hay while Sarah settled herself on her part of the covered seating area. She placed RahRah’s carrier near her feet, opened it, and took him out. He squirmed to free himself from her grasp, but she held him firmly. She quickly realized, though, that if he kept this up, the short distance was still going to be a long parade.

  “Settle down, RahRah. You need to behave like a grand marshal or you’re going to force me to put you back in your carrier. If I do, you’re going to miss out on a lot of fun.”

  Sarah reached into her pocket for a tidbit treat. The shelter vet, who Sarah adored, strongly encouraged restricting a cat’s diet to meat, fish, chicken, and vegetables. Normally, Sarah followed the vet’s instructions to a T, but, just as she believed every now and then humans should be given a treat, she felt cats deserved them occasionally, too. Because of her philosophy, she always kept a small jar of store-bought treats in her kitchen.

  In order not to feel too guilty, Sarah religiously took the large premade treats she bought and broke them into smaller pieces. That way, when it was appropriate, she fed RahRah only a nibble. These bite-sized treats perfectly satisfied RahRah. Today was no exception. He snatched the treat from her fingers and gobbled it down before settling comfortably in her arms, purring softly.

  Sarah glanced in the direction where people were lining up. The street had filled with owners and pets. Many, including quite a few cats, were leashed; other animals stood by their owners waiting for a command. For the first time in the past few days, she relaxed. YipYeow Day showed all the promise of being a success.

  A voice yelled, “Hold on tight! We’re off.”

  The hay wagon lunged forward. Surprised, Sarah clutched RahRah more tightly as he slipped down the crook of her arm. She nestled him closer to her body, while she whipped her head backward to see who was driving. Apparently, while she fed RahRah his treat, the person who helped with the steps had slipped into the driver’s seat.

  She glanced at the mayor. He was in his element, busily playing up to the crowd by waving and blowing kisses. Seeing he wasn’t the least bit alarmed they were moving, she opted to aid RahRah in doing the queen wave with his paw as they passed a group of young children. Their smiles made the silliness of the moment well worth it. How many would one day recount the first time they saw the town’s animals parade by and remember being waved at by a cat?

  Although their driver inched them along, so they didn’t get too far ahead of the walkers, the hay wagon quickly reached the pavilion parking area. Cutting the motor, the driver came around the side. While the mayor handed the steps to the young man, Sarah, assuring RahRah it would only be for a few minutes, put him back in his carrier. She handed the carrier to the driver and scampered down the stairs ahead of the mayor.

  As pets and owners finished the parade route, the pavilion area quickly filled. Some checked out what the vendors were giving away, while others waited in line for Marcus’s or Jane’s food. Sarah wondered how Jane felt about the many animals in the food area. She bet it was killing Jane, but she didn’t dare complain about their presence.

  In the adjacent grassy park area, dogs and humans chased Frisbees and balls. The best thing, Sarah thought as she once again freed RahRah from his carrier, was the number of people clustered around the adoptable pets.

  Whistling feedback from the speaker’s microphone made her realize the mayor was ready to give his opening remarks. She turned to listen but saw her mother, Mr. Rogers, and Fluffy near the food tables. Tuning the mayor out, Sarah worked her way over to them.

  The lines in front of Marcus’s and Jane’s tables reminded Sarah of how the Southwind booth at the food expo was four months ago. Marcus had at least three people in his line for every one waiting for Jane’s food. She watched the two chefs in action for a moment. Jane seemed scattered while Marcus efficiently and expertly engaged the crowd while he prepared and filled their orders. She hoped the preference people showed for his food would translate into business at the pub.

  Observing Marcus juggling all aspects of the Southwind booth, Sarah felt an inner pang she couldn’t identify. One part was admiration for how he handled things while the other was absolute annoyance with her sister and Thomas Howell. She couldn’t help but compare today with how Emily and Marcus usually functioned so well together.

  Normally, the contrast between her sister’s blonde cheerleader size and his massive clog-wearing balloon-clad body amused her, but today she felt something lacking as she watched him work without Emily. It particularly irked her that tonight, while Marcus hosted the no-cost volunteer reception at the Southwind Pub, Emily would be building a good reputation with the beautiful people of Wheaton and Birmingham at a restaurant Sarah now considered to be a serious Southwind rival.

  When Marcus saw her, he waved but continued working. If she hadn’t had RahRah with her, she would have donned a Southwind jacket and helped with anything he felt safe having her do. That probably wouldn’t be much, considering the last time Marcus gruntingly approved a kitchen task for her, she hadn’t even been able to take out the garbage without stumbling over a corpse.

  Like the rest of her family and friends, Sarah didn’t understand how Marcus and Emily could be so proficient in the kitchen, while she was liable to be scorched if she got anywhere near the vicinity of the “k” room. Even though her mother would have let her shadow her in the kitchen like Emily did, Sarah preferred watching Perry Mason reruns.

  Emily ended up able to do almost anything in a kitchen, while Sarah could empty the dishwasher during the first commercial, set the table at the show’s midpoint, acknowledge her father’s arrival from work during the third commercial break, and come upstairs for dinner when the credits rolled.

  Unable to help Marcus, she joined her mother and the others. Maybelle was nibbling from a plate of the pickup items Marcus was serving. Sarah put the cat carrier on the ground and shifted RahRah so she held him with one arm. “Those look good.”

  Maybelle held her plate where Sarah could get a better look at the assortment of appetizers gracing it. “Sausage and cheese balls, quesadilla triangles, spanakopita, and pizza pinwheels.”

  Sarah took one of the cheese balls from her mother’s plate and popped it into her mouth. The tangy taste was delightful. “These are delicious.”

  Before she could snatch another, her mother pulled her plate away from Sarah’s reach. “Get your own.”

  Mr. Rogers laughed. Fluffy, who lay ne
xt to him, raised her head and wagged her tail. He bent and patted her head. “See how good she is? I told her to lay down and stay and, even though I can tell she’d like to get in on the action, she’s obeying the command.”

  “Much better than this one.” Sarah, now using two hands, struggled to keep her twitching cat contained. “I don’t know if it’s the smell of food or all the other animals, but I’m not sure how much longer he’s going to let me hold him.”

  “You should get a leash for him, like I have for Fluffy.”

  “I might just do that. I always thought leashes were silly for cats, but looking around at the ones a few people are using today and trying to hold this squirmer, I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You’ll know for next year,” Maybelle said.

  Sarah jerked her head up. “What about next year?”

  “Honey, look around this pavilion area and the park. You’ve got a success here. George, don’t you agree this is the first of many YipYeow Days?”

  “Most definitely. And once you’ve successfully led something like this, everyone will want you to be in charge again.”

  Sarah’s groan was drowned out by the town square’s clock chiming. Once it ended, so her mother and Mr. Rogers could hear her, she continued the conversation where they left off. “Mr. Rogers, that’s not what I needed to hear right now.”

  When Maybelle agreed with Mr. Rogers, Sarah groaned again. This time they both heard her and laughed.

  “You wait and see,” Maybelle said.

  “I will, but right now, I think I’d better put RahRah in his carrier and get him home.”

  Maybelle looked confused. “Don’t you need to wait for YipYeow Day to end? This place isn’t going to clear out for at least another hour or so. People are having too much fun.”

  “You heard the clock. Today’s YipYeow activities officially end in thirty minutes. Even if people stay in the park, Marcus and Jane will handle closing the food tables while Phyllis oversees the adoption area until people stop taking animals home. Because I’m going to Birmingham to help Emily, and we weren’t sure when the adoptable animal area would close, Phyllis and I divided the YipYeow responsibilities. We both planned and fund-raised, and while I made sure the setup committee did its job, Phyllis agreed to oversee the festival’s conclusion. Between Phyllis and the volunteers, I’m sure everything will get done without me.”

  “I promised George and Fluffy a ride home. If you want to give me a moment to finish this plate, I’ll give you a lift, too.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. With the crowd the way it is now, it will be faster walking. If the three of you wait awhile, I’m sure it will thin out.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Sarah dropped her sequined jacket on her bed and hurried to get RahRah settled before she fought the traffic to Birmingham. Even with rushing, she barely arrived in time for the server orientation Emily held an hour before guests arrived.

  Although tonight’s meal was a buffet, Emily explained it was important for servers to understand the makeup of each dish. They had to be ready for any questions that arose in the dining room because Grace and she would be busy with preparation and expediting refills from the kitchen. Sarah marveled at how cool and calm her sister was while educating the servers and dealing with the details of the kitchen.

  After describing the contents of each dish, Emily put samples of them on the bar for the servers to taste. Sarah slipped the three-by-five index card she’d made cheat-sheet notes on into her pocket before sampling everything. There were three main dishes. One was a succulent chicken breast in a simple sauce, the second a breaded tilapia, and the third, which was the vegetarian choice, a deconstructed eggplant lasagna. The side dishes included two salad choices, two vegetables, two starches, orange or yeast rolls, and an assortment of mini-desserts. Water, tea, coffee, and a special Howellian Catnip drink were the only beverages for the evening.

  From the little bit Emily and Marcus had taught Sarah when she’d helped serve or poked around behind the scenes at the original Southwind and during their discussions about having a pub concept versus a fine-dining establishment, she knew tonight’s buffet, while plentiful, had significant profit built into it. The chicken and tilapia options were two of the cheapest items a restaurant could put on their menu. Still, like Marcus’s food at YipYeow Day, everything was delicious.

  Marcus planned to serve buffet style at the Southwind Pub tonight. She wondered if his menu would be similar to Emily’s to contrast with the pickup type food he offered this afternoon. Nice as everything would be at the Howellian tonight, Sarah wished Emily and she were at Southwind Pub.

  When Emily finished their formal group orientation, she sent everyone except Sarah back to double-check their individually assigned stations one last time. Guests would bring plates back to their tables from the buffet lines, but clean water glasses and table settings had to be waiting for them. Extra napkins, silverware, and trays on which to place dirty dishes for the busboys were in easy reach but out of the sight line of the guests as much as possible.

  “Sarah, you’re going to be my floater tonight.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You’ll work your way around the dining room helping out where needed. In the beginning, you’ll serve appetizers and pre-poured drinks, but as the night goes on, you’ll restock the prep stations as needed and make sure the busboys remove any stacked dirty dishes they miss. Most importantly, your job is to communicate the status of the buffet line table to Grace and me. For example, if everyone attacks one of the salads, we need to know to bring out a replacement. The same holds true with the hot dishes because, especially early in the evening, one of us will expedite refills while the other one will be popping things in and out of the ovens and microwaves. When the crowd wanes, that’s important for you to tell us, too. We don’t want to heat and waste food. If we keep our service on target, our bottom line will be more profitable.”

  “It sounds like you could end up with extra pans of different things.”

  “That’s the idea. I want tonight to look plentiful, but anything we don’t serve, we’ll refrigerate until we incorporate it into tomorrow’s menu.”

  Sarah shuddered at the thought of pans of leftovers being recycled. She hated leftovers. “Is that a common restaurant practice?”

  “Definitely. No restaurant can afford not to work this way. The same principle holds true with effectively using every part of an animal.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it from that perspective.”

  “Thankfully, most people don’t. Next time you’re in a restaurant, listen closely to that day’s specials. We may have served fresh shrimp and grits on Monday, but on Tuesday, we blend the shrimp with a tomato base and spices and serve a completely different dish. By the same token, if I buy whole chickens, I’ll make dishes incorporating half a chicken broiled or baked, but I’ll also make other menu offerings using the breasts, thighs, wings, livers, and even the bones.”

  “I think you’re turning me off to restaurant dining.”

  “Nonsense. Believe me, what I can do with the fat I skim off a chicken will make, and has made, your head spin with delight. Besides, you’re not exactly the one to go all righteous on me. You’ll do anything to avoid being in the kitchen. Think how much prepared frozen stuff you’ve scarfed down at fast-food restaurants.”

  Sarah couldn’t deny what her sister said.

  “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen to help Grace. Would you please clean this tasting area up before the guests start arriving?”

  “Sure.”

  Sarah stacked the dirty forks, serving platters, and plates she and the other servers had used and carried them into the kitchen. After asking Emily, she put them in an area near the commercial line dishwasher. She grabbed a rag and returned to the main dining room. Leaning over the bar to wipe it clean from the tasting, she felt a presence behind her. She whipped around, her rag in front of her, and almost ended up wiping Thomas clean. “Y
ou scared me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Did I miss the tasting?” He pointed to the bar area she had just finished wiping.

  “Yes. And it was delicious.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from Emily. Her skills in a kitchen amaze me.”

  “Me, too. I’m so easily flustered in a kitchen, but she makes everything seem easy—that is, until I try it.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Sarah was surprised to hear Thomas talk about trying his hand in the kitchen. He impressed her as someone who had others prepare his meals and do anything else he needed so his manicured hands would always be protected. Perhaps he was talking about making something simple on his cook’s day off. “Are you a cook of convenience, too?”

  “A cook of convenience?”

  She was amused by his confused expression. “That’s what Emily’s dubbed me. I specialize in taking shortcuts and using prepared things, like premade piecrusts, instead of making everything from scratch. She thinks being a cook of convenience is sinful.”

  Now it was his turn to be entertained by what she’d said. “I can’t imagine anything you could possibly do that would irk Saint Emily.”

  His use of the word “saint” bothered Sarah. She stared at him, unable to ascertain if he was joking or there was a newly developed tension between Emily and him.

  “Seriously, give me an example,” he pleaded.

  She thought for a moment. “Do you remember the spinach pie my sister made from scratch at the food expo?”

  He nodded. “It was delicious. That was one of the things that made me interested in your sister cooking at the Howellian.”

  “Well, I make a spinach pie, too. The big difference is she uses real spinach while I mix Stouffer’s spinach soufflé with packaged shredded cheddar cheese and other prepared ingredients. If I do say so myself, the end result of my recipe isn’t bad.”