That
evening when I walked into the dining room, we were the only ones there.
“Where
are Jarvis and Third?” I asked.
“Jarvis
retires early these days. His bones ache even in the heat of summer he says.
Third had a date with a young girl named Mary. He doesn’t go out often, and as
he’d already made plans, I didn’t see any need to make him stay just to wait on
us.”
“No
certainly not. We can fend for ourselves,” I said looking around at the long,
empty table. The dining room was a large rectangle with dark wood paneling on
the walls and wooden beams criss-crossing on the ceiling. The lighting was
muted with wall sconces and two crystal chandeliers overhead. The table itself was
an oblong with two pedestals and would probably seat twelve comfortably.
He
grinned at me and suggested, “Why don’t we go in the kitchen and see what we
can scrounge?”
“Sounds
good to me.” I was adept at scrounging because I was usually alone. The kitchen
we entered at the far end of the dinning room through a swinging door had been
completely renovated with what looked like restaurant quality appliances in a
stainless steel finish. There was an island counter with high back stools that
Jarret pointed me towards, and then he opened the refrigerator.
After
looking inside for a moment, he turned and asked, “You like peanut butter
sandwiches?” I burst out laughing, and he joined in.
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