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.