Maureen caught me cooking again. She generally wanders in around the dinner hour, looking for a meal. Tonight was no exception. The pretense for her visit was to drop off screws. I acted nonchalant but she could tell by the smell coming from my oven that something was up.
"Have you had dinner yet"? she asked.
"I'm just about to" I answer pregnant pause follows. "Want to join me"? What else could I do?
She scrambled to the cupboard to gather plates, knives and forks. She is not shy.
"What are we having"?
"Asparagus salad, Prime rib with Au jus' and french fried sweet potatoes"
She salivated her gratitude as we sat down to dinner at the new table. She expressed her appreciation of cloth napkins in rings, but choose the paper kind instead. We lit a candle between us and dined heartily. Finally, I was grateful for the company. I guess an exquisite meal is better shared. Talk was sparse and wine free flowing during our meal. Paw paws waited expectantly by my side for cherished scraps, generously delivered.
With satisfied palates and bellies, we settled in for a smoke and a late night chat.
The character that is Maureen oozed out with ramblings of men and work. She suddenly burst forth with her idea for my next book. She has apparently been thinking about this. She had the plot, the characters, the beginning, the twist and the end. It was actually a good idea, except for the plot, and the characters. A workable idea all in all. One I might just put in the works to see if anything is born. We argued about the proposed ending, exchanging ideas and scenarios. With wisdom I have not seen from her before, she looked into my eyes and said, "you know Hulia, in your real life it's up to you when it comes to the ending".
Quotable Maureen! Who knew.
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