Family Breakfast [open to anyone with a good reason for being there]
Ali leaned in the doorway to the dining room, checking the table again. She saw Ed so rarely, she wanted their probably only time together before he disappeared into his world again to be special. But she didn't want to overdo it (too late!); it was breakfast, and a family meal. She'd covered the table in creamy lace, with a deep crimson mat for each place. Chargers and plates were stacked up for future use, topped with a tall glass of tropical fruit yogurt parfait and chocolate biscotti for all. All but one: Ali'd already eaten hers. What? You try making breakfast like this without getting hungry!
Arranged down the center of the table were bowls of fruit, jams, and flavored butters; small pitchers of syrup and cream and larger with juices and milk; slim salt and pepper grinders, and trivets to hold the warm dishes to be brought out later. Behind Ali, in the kitchen, one oven was full of strawberry pancakes and an asparagus bread pudding all being kept warm; the other was finishing off the tropical island salmon. A pot on the stove held salted water simmering, waiting for the egg and cheese ravioli to be cooked, and lingering warmth of the grill kept the mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon and sausage warm. Stacks of rye bread and brioche waited on the counter to be toasted, next to mugs and glasses ready to be filled with hot chocolate, tea, or coffee when it was made.
The children, anxious for breakfast because of the scents, had been placated with a bowl of strawberries to be shared and sent to play until Ed arrived. Now, where was he?
Arranged down the center of the table were bowls of fruit, jams, and flavored butters; small pitchers of syrup and cream and larger with juices and milk; slim salt and pepper grinders, and trivets to hold the warm dishes to be brought out later. Behind Ali, in the kitchen, one oven was full of strawberry pancakes and an asparagus bread pudding all being kept warm; the other was finishing off the tropical island salmon. A pot on the stove held salted water simmering, waiting for the egg and cheese ravioli to be cooked, and lingering warmth of the grill kept the mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon and sausage warm. Stacks of rye bread and brioche waited on the counter to be toasted, next to mugs and glasses ready to be filled with hot chocolate, tea, or coffee when it was made.
The children, anxious for breakfast because of the scents, had been placated with a bowl of strawberries to be shared and sent to play until Ed arrived. Now, where was he?