She arranged the bacon on a platter and then debated what to do with the ten-inch biscuit that had actually been four small biscuits when she'd placed the pan in the oven. Deciding not to break it into irregular chucks, she placed the entire biscuit neatly in the center of the bacon and carried the platter over to the table, were Ian had just seated himself. Returning to the stove, she tried to dig the eggs out of the skillet, but they wouldn't come loose, so she brought the skillet and spatula to the table. "I-I thought you might like to serve," she offered formally, to hide her growing trepidation over the things she had prepared.
"Certainly," Ian replied, accepting the honor with the same grave formality with which she'd offered it: then he looked expectantly at the skillet. "What have we here?" he inquired sociably.
Scrupulously keeping her gaze lowered, Elizabeth sat down across from him. "Eggs," she answered, making an elaborate production of opening her napkin and placing it on her lap. "I'm afraid the yolks broke."
"It doesn't matter."
When he picked up the spatula Elizabeth pinned a bright, optimistic smile on her face and watched as he first tried to lift, and then began trying to the eggs from the skillet. "They're stuck," she explained needlessly.
"No, they're " he corrected, but at least he didn't sound angry. After another few moments he finally managed to pry a strip loose, and he placed it on her plate. A few moments more and he was able to gouge another piece loose, which he placed on his own plate.
In keeping with the agreed-upon truce they both began observing all the polite table rituals with scrupulous care. First Ian offered the platter of bacon with the biscuit centerpiece to Elizabeth. "Thank you," she said, choosing two black strips of bacon.
Ian took three strips of bacon and studied the flat brown object reposing on the center of the platter. "I recognize the bacon," he said with grave courtesy, "but what is that?" he asked, eyeing the brown object. "It looks quite exotic."
"It's a biscuit," Elizabeth informed him.
"Really?" he said, straight-faced. "Without any shape?"
"I call it a-a biscuit," Elizabeth fabricated hastily.
"Yes, I can see why you might," he agreed. "It rather resembles the shape of a pan.
"Certainly," Ian replied, accepting the honor with the same grave formality with which she'd offered it: then he looked expectantly at the skillet. "What have we here?" he inquired sociably.
Scrupulously keeping her gaze lowered, Elizabeth sat down across from him. "Eggs," she answered, making an elaborate production of opening her napkin and placing it on her lap. "I'm afraid the yolks broke."
"It doesn't matter."
When he picked up the spatula Elizabeth pinned a bright, optimistic smile on her face and watched as he first tried to lift, and then began trying to the eggs from the skillet. "They're stuck," she explained needlessly.
"No, they're " he corrected, but at least he didn't sound angry. After another few moments he finally managed to pry a strip loose, and he placed it on her plate. A few moments more and he was able to gouge another piece loose, which he placed on his own plate.
In keeping with the agreed-upon truce they both began observing all the polite table rituals with scrupulous care. First Ian offered the platter of bacon with the biscuit centerpiece to Elizabeth. "Thank you," she said, choosing two black strips of bacon.
Ian took three strips of bacon and studied the flat brown object reposing on the center of the platter. "I recognize the bacon," he said with grave courtesy, "but what is that?" he asked, eyeing the brown object. "It looks quite exotic."
"It's a biscuit," Elizabeth informed him.
"Really?" he said, straight-faced. "Without any shape?"
"I call it a-a biscuit," Elizabeth fabricated hastily.
"Yes, I can see why you might," he agreed. "It rather resembles the shape of a pan.
( Judith McNaught )
[ Almost Heaven ]
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