Missus Jensen flew from the diner’s serving window into the kitchen. “Hurry, Corinne. Another three orders of lentil soup!”
While Mister Jensen had been absent from the household, Arabella, took over operations. This time of year, the marketplace was filled with people buying fresh food, stalls of blue, purple, and red corn heaped in bushels, honey and herbs in tied sprigs, lean venison steaks and batts of colorful woven cloths set along the pathway strewn with sawdust to help carts navigate ruts.
Arabella knew that after people finished, they didn’t want to go home and miss their weekly chance of arranging for deliveries of manure, arguing about stolen chickens, and mostly, catching up on gossip, including the latest news from the Pool of Knowledge. Anyhow, now that Jensen was gone for who knows how long, the cow knuckles of her braids knocked together as she moved from one project to the next.
Arabella wanted to change the name of the diner. Jensen’s Joint didn’t have the right ring. She thought Arabella’s Joint sounded much better. Secondly, she wanted to provide tables outside where marketgoers could relax, not feel like they had to park on the ground. But Arabella’s biggest task was to improve the menu, but how? She spoke to Corinne, the bartender on loan from Cruston’s pub.
Corinne was a cheerful young woman who was fond of red and white polka dots.
“Wasn’t she the one who made those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” I asked.
“That’s right, said Basuma, “and Corinne felt badly about her mistake. She’d accidentally mixed up her baking canisters, the sickening agent was for troublesome customers at the pub. She’d met Armantrout at the Cruston pub, and had spoken to him about wanting to make a few extra dollars. He’d suggested she talk to Arabella who needed a hand in the kitchen.
“Do you know anyone who might be able to help?” Arabella asked.
“I do,” said Corinne. “My brother may be a boor, but he is very with his hands.” Corinne turned out to be Orren and Sidney’s sister.
Orren immediately went to work. There was no better way to upset a man than in putting his wife in charge of his business. He had every reason to get back at Jensen. He set about creating a new sign for Arabella.
Brindle saw him in the yard. She watched him, glad that her mother’s energy was focused in a direction other than herself.
“So it’s you again? Scram kid. I’m busy working.”
“Can I watch?”
“No. Go away. You make me nervous,” he said.
“I’ll be quiet. Please, can I stay here?”
Orren figured it would be a good move to be nice to Arabella’s bratty kid. “Okay,” he said, “but not one peep.”
There wasn’t much else to do. Liana hadn’t returned from the city, and she’d heard things hadn’t turned out well for her father, which didn’t surprise her mother one bit. Brindle sat on a tree stump and watched Orren saw a piece of wood.
“That doesn’t look like anything,” she said, and realized she’d broken her promise. “Sorry.” She zipped up her mouth and threw away the key.
“And make sure it stays shut,” he said.
Oddly enough, Brindle got interested in what he was doing. She sat with both hands beneath her chin and watched him make cuts on the wood and then place the it between two heavy stones while he continued sawing. Later, he brought out a paint box, screwed open each jar, and began to create lettering for Arabella’s Joint. He didn’t feel like running back and forth to the well. He told Brindle, “Hey, kid. Rinse out the brushes and get me some fresh water in this jar.”
“Sure,” she said, happy to be more than an annoyance.
Corinne about the menu. She’d turned out to be a helpful girl, even if Arabella didn’t care for polka dots.
“I want to do more than serve Mister Jensen’s watery soup and weak coffee. Any ideas?”
“Why not talk to the farmers at the marketplace? If you’re buying in pounds, they might strike a deal, which is exactly what Arabella did. Mister Jensen usually bought wormy old vegetables from who-knows-where.
The next Saturday she collected several sacks of potatoes, onions, carrots, and stored them in her cold cellar. Customers who ordinarily came to the diner expecting warm liquid smiled as soon as their spoons touched their lips. “This stuff ain’t too bad.” They told their friends. More people came.
After Orren finished the sign, he took down Jensen’s Joint and replaced it with Arabella’s.
“That looks so much better,” said Arabella. “Corinne was right. You certainly are very talented.”
He blushed. No one had paid him a compliment in a long time. Then he began work on the tables and chairs for outdoor seating. He let Brindle hand him nails one-by one while he hammered.