Lark and termite by Jayne Anne Phillips

Author:Jayne Anne Phillips [Jayne Anne Phillips]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Histoire
ISBN: 9780375701931
Published: 2010-01-05T10:54:22+00:00

We get to the restaurant when the lunch rush is well over and the counter is empty. I never bring Termite until later, when his chair is always free. Charlie has one stool at the counter that’s actually a child-sized barber’s chair, with a leatherette-upholstered back and arms and a metal footrest. He got it years ago for Termite, from a barbershop that closed down and gave away its equipment. It’s the same height and distance from the counter as all the other stools, bolted into the floor like the rest, with a foot pedal that doesn’t work anymore. That chair is the first seat people take if they’re alone and thin enough to fit into it. It’s cushioned and comfy, ladies like it, and I’ve seen kids fight over it. I bring the wagon in through the wide restaurant door and park it in the space between the counter and the wall, where it’s not in anyone’s way. Nonie wipes down tables, resupplies condiments. Then she’ll start on the supper special. Charlie’s already doing prep. I hear him in the back, chopping on the broad butcher block beside the sink. I hear Gladdy running on at him.

“There’s just no sense in it.” Her reedy voice carries over any other sound. “The city’s hiking taxes. You’ve got to lower expenses, not raise them. Why use country sausage when you could use hamburger?”

If Gladdy finds out what they’re making up in bulk, she always gets after them to use cheaper ingredients. She gets after Charlie for hiring hard-luck cases as dishwashers or extra waitresses, even if they’re excellent workers, like this place is in danger of falling off the social register. She would have been after him long ago to fire Nonie, except she knows she couldn’t get the same amount of work out of anyone else. Gladdy, if she’s not in Florida, is here every day for lunch, and she comes just in the middle of the rush, sashays in and sits at her own little table. She’s exercising her rights as owner and checking up on everyone when it’s busiest. Then she hangs around until customers clear out so she can harangue Charlie. Funny how she’s always by herself. Meaning it’s no wonder. Nonie refuses to wait on her. Gladdy orders the special, like she’s testing it. She won’t address the help, but half the time she’ll send a note back to Charlie—“needs salt” or “too rich.” She never orders dessert, due to her diabetes, but she’ll send a note about a dessert she observes—“whipped cream unnec. on berry pie.” Nonie keeps all of Gladys’ notes in a drawer; she calls them Charlie’s fan mail. In twenty years, Nonie says, not a compliment. The food is actually pretty good at Charlie’s. Not fancy, but good, and the portions are big. Charlie says he’s got just the kind of place he wants: no liquor license, no problems. Good food, reasonable costs, dependable clientele. The tables are full every meal, but it’s slow enough between rushes that they get the prep and cooking and cleanup done.

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