“Little space, hungry people waiting in the sun?”
Henry still didn’t understand.
“Okay,” she said. “Pull up that stool and sit there and give me this wonderful space to myself.”
He did as he was told and Etta set to work. First, she hurried about the kitchen assembling what she needed. Henry raised his eyebrows at her speed. She slid a can of green chilies and an opener to Henry, then pulled a packet of trout from the freezer and put it in the microwave to thaw.
With lightning speed, she peeled and chopped a potato and an onion. She was chopping with one hand while she pulled the fish out of the microwave. She filled the two trout with onions, olives, green chilies, capers and olive oil, then wrapped them in parchment paper.
She put them in a hot skillet that Henry hadn’t seen her put on the stove. Vegetables went into a pan. Then Etta used an immersion blender—something Henry didn’t know was in the kitchen—to mix up eggs, milk, and sugar. He had no idea what she was making, but it smelled great.
In what seemed like minutes, Etta stepped back. “It’s ready.”
It took Henry a full minute to close his mouth. “I’ve never seen anything like that. It takes me ten minutes to chop an onion.”
“You never worked for Lester. ‘Fast’ is the only word he really understands. He tells me I’m the tortoise.”
“Who won the race.”
“Exactly!” Etta said, laughing. “That’s what I tell Lester. Shall we go outside?”
“You don’t plan to toss the plates out, do you?”
Etta grimaced. “Don’t say that out loud. Lester might hear you and tell me I have to learn how to do that.”
Henry got the plates, glasses, and flatware, and led the way to the side yard. It was a beautiful place, house on one side, a tall fence painted white on the other. A mossy brick path ran down the middle, with flower beds on each side. A tree, just beginning to leaf, overhung it all.
Henry set the round iron table with the dishes, then helped carry out the food. “We don’t have to eat at the speed of your cooking, do we?”
“Yes,” Etta said without a smile.
Henry laughed. “I asked for that one.”
As she sat down, he opened a wide panel in the fence. “What’s that for?”
“A surprise.”
“I look forward to it.” They began to eat.
“This is utterly delicious.” Henry looked at her in seriousness. “So why aren’t you married and have three kids?”
Etta shrugged. “It just didn’t happen.”
“You’re too young to speak in the past tense.”
His look made her feel that she had to explain. “I was engaged when I was at university. As soon as we finished school, we were going to get married, then start producing those kids. It was all planned. I’d even picked out my wedding dress. Lots of lace.” She shrugged as though that was the end of the story.
But Henry was still watching her. “So what changed? He cheated on you?”
“No. Worse.” She took a breath. “My mother was very sick for a long time before she died. Dad had to work and Alicia had school. All of them needed me.”
“So you left your own life plans and went home to take care of them.”
“I did.” She sounded defensive. “It was necessary. There was nothing else I could do.”
“And the boyfriend?”
Etta gave a sigh. “He said that I had to choose between him or them. It wasn’t a difficult choice.”
Henry nodded. “I understand that. Family first. So what now? Are you meeting young men and planning for those kids?”
She shook her head. “I think it’s past that. I’m thirty-four. In today’s world, I’m practically a boomer. Any man interested in me has two ex-wives and three grown children who’d hate me for trying to take their mother’s place. No thank you.”
Henry was frowning. “You can’t give up. There’s—”
“Stop!” She was serious. “My life is good. I have a family and friends and a job I love. I don’t ask for more.”
“Maybe you should,” Henry said softly.
Annoyed, Etta frowned. He wasn’t the only person who’d said this, but it wasn’t any of his business. Maybe it was a mistake staying here. She started to say that, but then the door to the house next to them opened.
Abruptly, Henry put down his fork, leaned back in the chair, and went quiet.
Etta was glad to drop the conversation about what-Etta-should-do-with-her-life. “What’s going on?”
Henry made no answer, but then singing filled the air. It was a woman’s voice but it was deep. “Rich” is the only word to describe it. The sound was ethereal. Divine. Jessye Norman come back to life.
Etta didn’t realize that she’d halted with the fork to her mouth. When Henry reached out and touched her wrist, she put her hand down. Like Henry, she leaned back in her seat and listened.
The woman sang three songs, all church hymns. “Nearer My God to Thee,” “Holy, Holy, Holy,” and “Just a Closer Walk with Thee.”
When the third one ended, Henry got up, went into the kitchen, and returned with a fork, plate, and a tall glass of ice water. He put them on the table between them.
A minute later, a woman came out of the house. She was large but not fat, and she moved with her shoulders back, her head erect. She was an impressive-looking person.
Henry held out the chair for her and she sat down.
“This is Etta,” he said. “She’s staying here and looking after me.”
“Someone has to.” She was probably thirty years younger than Henry, but she gave him a flirty look. They’d obviously been friends for a long time.
“That was beautiful,” Etta said. “Do you sing professionally?”
“Only in church,” she said quickly.
“Oh but you should! You could—” Etta stopped at Henry’s look. Uh-oh. Sore topic. “And for us,” she said. “A private concert for Henry and me. We are blessed.”
Henry smiled in approval. “This is Sophie.”
* * *
Etta snuggled down in the bed. It was barely 10:00 p.m., but she was very sleepy. Probably Henry’s influence, she thought. At nine thirty he said he hadn’t stayed up so late since he was a youthful sixty.