Thinking back, it occurred to Thomas that he should have seen all of this coming.  There was something just too good about Washington Wales.  He was always amiable, smiling and winking in such a way to put other people into a false sense of ease.  The underlaying greasiness gave Thomas pause the first few times that they met in social circles.  He found himself putting purposeful distance between himself and the genial Washington Wales, giving small, noncommittal excuses for the gestures while trying to pinpoint what exactly about this man felt off.  There was a distinct moment when he reached out to warn Maisie to avoid Wales like a plague.  But his hand paused—his resolve of his good judgement faltered—and she fell into a relationship with the good Mr. Wales that would ultimately be her undoing.

A group of women beside the punch bowl erupted into a cacophony of laughter, drawing brief attention towards them until the room settled back into their own private conversations.  No one here seemed to suspect the tragedy of the event.  Well, no one except for Thomas and the small group of people who had been exclusively assigned table number seventeen.  The members of table seventeen shifted uncomfortably in their small circle and looked disapprovingly upon the happy crowd of partygoers.  No one wanted to be the one to bring up the unpleasant, so they just stood clumped together waiting for the announcement that it was time to enter the main ballroom.

Waiters circulated the room with trays loaded with various delicacies and drinks, pausing at each small group to offer them a bite or a glass.  Every now and again, one would notice the group of outsiders and wandered over to extend similar offers.  The dour group helped themselves to tall glasses of champagne and crab infused finger foods.  After the third time the crab ball tray had swung by, Claudia finally spoke up.

“Must you be such a glutton?  They are serving food in the next room too.”

“It’s free food,” Hamilton replied simply.  “No matter how cruddy the party, I don’t say no to free snacks.”

“You have to admit this is a pretty swank event,” offered Ursula.

Claudia wrinkled her nose as she took a swig of the champagne in her hand.  “Yeah, but I thought the end of the world would have better booze.”

The group fell into silence again as they let her words sink in.  It really was akin to the end of the world that night.  The group of friends had been in shock when the invitations had arrived in the mail announcing the engagement of Washington and Lily Ayers.  At first everyone had dismissed it as a very poor joke.  But when Claudia had called Lily laughing, the joculation in her voice waned quickly as she came to realize that it was for real.   The person having the hardest time was also the quietest member of the small group.  When Maisie opened the engagement party invitation, her complexion turned a little green and then she simply dropped the card into the mail pile and went into the kitchen to bang around at the oven.  

Lily was unaware of the repercussions of her announcement.  She cheerfully consulted with each of them about wedding dresses, venues, and food.  No one had the heart to ruin her blissful mood.  This was how they ended up suckered into the specially prepared event that was scheduled to follow the cocktail hour.  Everyone agreed that Maisie’s involvement was especially mean, but when given the chance to decline or explain, Maisie stayed eerily quiet.  So since she refused to say anything and RSVP’d to the engagement party herself, they all followed suit and arrived to the Watercress Hotel’s Pearl Room in formal wear.

After chatting and circulating through the other partygoers for about a half and hour, the happy couple finally seemed to notice table seventeen and floated over to be dutiful hosts.  The entire group seemed to flinch as they drew closer and took half-steps backward only to find that they were trapped between the hosts and a very immovable wall.  Thomas instinctively took a protective stance just ahead of Maisie and the others followed suit, arranging themselves in an almost V-formation of protection.

If Washington was aware, he didn’t let it show.  His grin spread wide across his face, crinkling his bright blue eyes and displaying an almost hypnotic set of dimples.  He walked a half-step behind Lily, keeping a hand lightly on her waist and another in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket.  Releasing Lily’s waist, he extended his hand into the group to make a greeting.  For half a moment everyone just stared at it like it was crawling with disease and then finally Hamilton reached out to respond with a firm handshake.

“What’s the problem?  Why aren’t you guys mingling?” Lily frowned delicately.  Everything she did was delicate—coughing, laughing, even vomiting.

“We’re worried about the lightening strike.  We figured we’d be safe in this corner away from the main event,” Claudia explained in a deadpan tone.

Lily’s frowned deepened.  She clearly didn’t understand what Claudia was talking about.  Washington deftly steered the conversation into another direction without missing a beat.  “We are so excited that you all could join us tonight.  I know it means a lot to Lily and it also means the world to me.”

“You’re an ass,” Claudia snapped under her breath.

“How is everyone tonight?  Are you having fun?” inquired Washington, completely ignoring the comment and ploughing forward.

“As much as can be expected,” replied Thomas quietly.  

Maisie placed a hand on his shoulder blade and Thomas turned slightly to see what she wanted.  Pushing gently, she steered him out of position and worked her way to the front of the pack—eyes cast down.  She stopped just before Washington and took a deep breath before looking up and smiling.  Reaching out to take Lily’s hands into her own, she grinned, “You look beautiful tonight.  Did your sister help you pick out the dress?”

Relieved that the conversation had finally returned to something that she could comprehend, Lily’s face lit up and she gushed, “Actually, Washington picked this dress out for me.  He said he wanted to see me all dressed up in an outfit that he had chosen for me himself, but I warned him that he wouldn’t be able to see the wedding dress before the ceremony.”

“He can be pushy, huh?” Maisie chuckled.  Turning to Washington, she added, “But she’s right.  It’s bad luck to see the dress before the ceremony.  You have to be properly dumbfounded as she comes down the aisle.”

“Understood.  That’s why I chose the engagement party dress instead.  Do you like it?”

“You did good, kid.”

The look in Washington’s eyes softened and he reached a hand towards Maisie.  At the same time, she sidestepped his gesture and Hamilton stepped into the place where she had just been.  With a forced smile, he jerked a thumb towards the wandering waiters.  “I love the crab ball things.  Good choice.”

“I made sure we’d have quality snacks since you said you’d be coming,” Washington oozed.  “Otherwise, we’d never hear the end of how poorly catered our party was.”

“Perish the thought,” muttered Claudia.

Lily turned her attention toward the sullen Claudia.  “Is there something the matter?” she asked.

Claudia opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated as she looked into the concerned expression on the hostess’ face.  Closing her mouth again, she took a deep breath and said, “No.  My feet just hurt.  When will we get to sit down and eat?”

As if on cue, the lights began to dim and flicker.  The happy couple excused themselves and the anteroom began to empty as people filed into the ballroom to take their assigned seats at the lavishly decorated round tops.  Table seventeen lagged noticeably behind, bringing up the rear and finding that their table was predictably tucked into the far corner of the great hall.  Arranging themselves around the table, the group examined the decorations and favors without comment—instead shooting meaningful glances to each other.  An emcee started the ceremony off introducing the couple to the room with a slideshow of baby, childhood, and dating pictures.  Apparently the happy couple had gone to a studio to have professional pictures taken of their relationship.  The emcee went on and on about how their love was predestined and what a wonderful thing it was that they had finally met their other half.  The other guests oohed and ahed as the speech went on, laughing lightly at the corny jokes and clapping where appropriate.  Table seventeen remained silent, sending surreptitious glances in the direction of one particular member to measure her reaction.

Maisie knew that everyone was worried about how she would take everything, but she had already prepared herself for the highest level of sticky, sweet sentiment.  Besides, the hardest part would occur later on in the evening when she would fulfill the excited request of her hostess and friend.  So even though her friends were clearly worried about her, she continued to put up the front that nothing that night was going to phase her.  She couldn’t let it.  If Maisie allowed herself to think too hard that night even for a moment, she was going to completely fall apart and ruin Lily’s perfect event.  Just because she was miserable, it didn’t mean that everyone else had to be miserable along with her.

After the opening slideshow and speeches, dinner began to roll out to tables in waves.  The food at the hotel was a notch above the average restaurant and the wait staff was adept at keeping track of when one course was finished so that settings could be cleared efficiently in preparation for the next course.  Table seventeen fell into a muted conversation about the reunion that was planned for the following weekend.  Half the table wanted to ditch the event all together, but they were being emphatically coerced by the other half to change their minds.

“Why bother?  We know that the evening is going to devolve into a drunken, sloppy mess within the first two hours.  I don’t ever want to see McKenzie Mallory’s junk again.”

“That was disturbing,” agreed Maisie, wrinkling her nose.

“But we haven’t gotten together in two years!  It’ll be fun!” insisted Hamilton.

Claudia raised an eyebrow.  “Are you sure you’re not just excited about the free snacks?”

“Those snacks aren’t free,” pouted Hamilton.  “Tickets are like fifty bucks.”

“We should go,” Maisie repeated.  “There might not be many other chances for us to see everyone.”

“True,” conceded Claudia.  She turned to Thomas, who had been characteristically silent on the issue.  “What are your thoughts?”

“It can’t hurt.  We should at least show our faces.  If it’s lame, we’ll just take off and do something else on our own.”

Claudia laughed.  “Spoken like a true Freeman.”

“One has absolutely nothing to do with the other,” he sniffed, taking a sip of his water.

“Oh?  I seem to recall the entire family quietly removing themselves from several school functions the moment your turn on stage was over.  We started reserving end of row seats for your family automatically so you’d stop climbing over others to get out of the door before functions ended.”

“Hey, you’re lucky they even showed up,” pointed out Ursula.  “I was so surprised when Thomas came to my sweet sixteen that I almost passed out.  He even stayed until the end.”

“That’s because I was his ride,” giggled Maisie.

“You all are a bunch of bums.  Quit making fun of me.  There’s nothing wrong with ducking out,” frowned Thomas.

Maisie’s giggles exploded into full-blown laughter.  Ursula pointed her fork at Thomas and replied, “There is when the entire event has to be put on hold because all twenty-five of your family members have to get up en-masse to head to the door.”

“You all are just jealous that you don’t have an army to attend your events like I do,” sniffed Thomas.

Table seventeen cracked up at this and those sitting near Thomas took the opportunity to punch his shoulders lightly.  The recorded music faded out as main course was cleared from the tables and the dessert buffet was announced.  The emcee introduced the live band and then handed the microphone over to the leader of the band to make his own introductions.  A lively rendition of CeeLo’s Forget You began to fill the room and guests started to drift onto the dance floor to shake and shimmy.  The rush on the dessert bar was light as people chose dancing over nibbling on Mont Blanc and chocolate cake.

Ursula checked her watch and shot a look across the table at Hamilton, who was busy stuffing a huge piece of chocolate cake into his mouth.  With chipmunk cheeks, he frowned for a moment and then his face lit up with understanding.  The two of them rose from their seats and disappeared into the crowd of slightly tipsy dancers.  Thomas watched Maisie over the rim of his rum and coke.  She was turned in her chair, gazing out over the dance floor and slightly swaying to the rhythm of the music.  When Claudia rose to stand next to her shoulder, she glanced up and smiled sweetly.  Claudia pointed to the door to the hall and Maisie nodded.  Soon Thomas was alone at the table.

He had been against the gift.  It wasn’t fair.  But when he’d seen how determined Maisie was to do it, he shut his mouth.  Still, Thomas refused to help out beyond making safety checks.  He’d been at the venue a few hours before the party even began to go over the routine a fifth time with everyone.  The hotel staff seemed to be used to set ups like his and were very accommodating with the rigging and construction needed.  He was satisfied with everything during the last rehearsal and now only needed to wait for the real thing.

The band did another pop number and then the lighting in the room dropped down into darkness with only the votives at each table providing light.  The dancers were confused in the dark—waiting to see whether it was planned or a power failure.  A single spot light snapped on and illuminated the stage where the live band had once stood.  Now the stage was empty except for Hamilton sitting at the baby grand.  He began to play out the opening bars of Adele’s Make You Feel My Love and as he he reached the end, a second spot shone at the ceiling behind the dance floor and followed the slow descent of a large swing.  The ropes on either side of the swing were bright white and adorned with twisting ivy.  On the seat was Maisie—holding onto each rope with a white-gloved hand as she was lowered gradually to the ground—wearing a ice blue, square-neck satin gown that draped dramatically below the swing.  She took a deep breath and began to belt out the opening lyrics to the song and the hall filled with her voice.  By the time she was about halfway down, she had reached the second verse.  Maisie’s strong voice poured over the room as she let go of the swing and began to gesture with her hands.  The swing stopped smoothly at just about chair height and she hopped off at the bridge.  As she walked forward, the crowd on the dance floor parted.  Maisie paused in the center of the floor as two more spots illuminated Claudia’s cello and Ursula’s violin on the other side of the piano.  Claudia winked at Maisie as she played causing a small smile on Maisie’s lips.  The lyrics ended and the trio played a small solo.  

When it was time for the lyrics to come back in, a final spotlight illuminated the spot just in front of the stage where Lily stood holding onto a white microphone.  Maisie and Lily took simultaneous deep breaths and then blew out a harmony.  At first the two women were looking at each other as they sang the song and then Lily turned to look in the direction of her fiancé.  Washington was sitting a little dumbfounded at the couple’s table taking in the scene.  No one else noticed it because of where the table was situated, but while Lily was longingly singing to Washington, Washington’s gaze was locked firmly onto Maisie’s.  By now tears had already sprung to her eyes that were impossible to wipe away because of the spotlight.  Lily’s voice drifted out as Maisie took the song home.  She fought hard to keep the sobs out of her voice and keep it strong.  As the song faded out, the house lights raised and the party erupted into applause.  

A few people closed in on Maisie as she smiled and politely received their compliments on the show.  Those still sitting at tables began to tap their wine glass with their forks—a symbol for the couple to kiss.  By now Washington had left his table and was at Lily’s side.  While embracing her, he glanced over Lily’s head to lock eyes with Maisie once again.  She held his gaze for a moment, smiled, and then looked away.  As Lily thanked everyone for coming and playing along with the gift she arranged for her husband-to-be, Maisie made her way out of the hall and didn’t stop until she was standing outside of the hotel’s revolving doors.  Fat tears rolled down her cheeks one after another, dropping to the pavement.  Her body began to shake a little and Maisie could feel her knees start to wobble.  Just before she completely crumpled, a strong pair of hands took hold of her shoulders and pulled her back into his chest. 

Thomas reached into the back of Maisie’s dress to unhook the microphone feed and then spun her around to hide her face in his chest.  “Let it out.”

Sniffing, Maisie said, “Just for tonight…just for tonight, can you not leave?”

“Of course,” he replied.

And then Maisie burst into the soul-wracking sobs that had been building up inside for over six months.

“Mail call!” shouted Claudia as she tossed her keys into the bowl at the door.  She kicked off her shoes under the shoe bench and shuffled in brightly colored socks into the living room with an armload of envelopes and fliers.  One by one, people emerged from different parts of the house to see if they had gotten anything better than a bill.  Claudia sorted the mail as she stood in the center of the group—handing envelopes and magazines to their recipients as she flipped through everything.  When she got to the bottom of the stack, the small crowd dispersed some exuberantly and others in disappointment.  When they were all gone, Claudia was only left with three pieces of mail—one belonging to her and two others belonging to Maisie.

Stuffing the credit card statement into her back pocket, Claudia sighed and headed to the back of the boarding house to the kitchen.  As she approached, she could smell the scent of fresh bread in the oven and something spicy stewing on the stove.  At the epicenter of the open kitchen and dining area stood Maisie in a deep red apron, chopping away at the vegetables that would no doubt be added to a fresh salad or whatever was bubbling away on the stove.  Maisie was humming to a song playing softly on the old radio sitting on the counter under the window as she worked, so absorbed in the act of cooking that she didn’t notice Claudia until she’d stage coughed several times.

“You have mail,” Claudia informed her.

Maisie wiped her hands on her apron and came around the island counter to take the outstretched envelopes from Claudia’s hands.  “Thanks,” she smiled, and then looked down at the mail in her hands.  One envelope was clearly an invitation,  Without batting an eyelash, she slipped the invitation into her apron pocket and examined the other manilla envelope.  It was plain, with no return address and her name was printed on a white label that was affixed perfectly in the center.  The postmark indicated that it had been mailed from a small town in Virginia—a clue as to who had mailed the envelope and why.

Sighing, Maisie slipped a clean butter knife under the crease of the sealed envelope and yanked it sharply.  Sliding one hand inside, she extracted the thick packet of papers and dropped her chin into her chest.  It was exactly what she had feared.  Maisie didn’t even bother to read the literature and just set it on a clean spot on the counter and went back to chopping vegetables for that night’s garden salad.  There would be time to think about the news later.

Claudia, of course, remained baffled.  She craned her neck to read the cover page of the packet laying in plain sight on the counter and frowned.  “What is Peach Orchard Hill?”

“The family obligation,” replied Maisie, sliding the contents of her cutting board into a large wooden bowl.  “I’ll be taking off a semester.”

“What?”

“Every year we have to take turns going up to the Orchard.  Apparently this is my year.”

“And they don’t make concessions for people being in school?”

Maisie shook her head.  “I’ve already put it off once.  I have to go this time around.  About half of my courses can be done online, so I’ll just do summer classes to make up the difference.”

“That is insane.”

“That’s being a Gaddy.”

Claudia snuck a cucumber slice off the top of the large salad and chewed thoughtfully.  Leaning forward on the across the island on her elbows, she asked, “So then who will take over your duties here while you’re gone?”

Maisie raised an eyebrow at her friend, whose expression immediately twisted into horror at the obvious realization of the answer to her question.  The only person who could come to run the family hostel would be Maisie’s crazy older sister, which meant chaos was about to descend on the heads of every resident living in Pinkwater Gardens.  Originally the house had been a palatial estate that took up a quarter of a city block with enclosed gardens and magnificent, gothic architecture.  It had been in the Hall family for hundreds of years—a gift passed down faithfully from generation to generation since the founding of the city.  It was old Jasper Hall, II who had scandalously fallen in love with the housemaid Paula Anne and his refusal to marry anyone if it couldn’t be her resulted in the property being passed to his oldest living sibling, Josiah Hall.  Josiah was a fair man, however, and knew that the house should belong to Paula Anne and her children, so he allowed them to live their days there and willed the property to his nephew—much to the chagrin of his uptight and generally disliked wife.  There was a stir because of this—in those days it was unheard of for someone of any kind of African descent to own property like this—but eventually the uproar died down.  When the family refused to make a stink about things and the neighbors regarded it as common sense, the other rabble rousers gave up and accepted things as well.  The house was well cared for and remained a jewel in the crown of the neighborhood and, as time passed, so did the purpose of the house.

The proximity of Pinkwater Gardens to the local university decided it’s future use.  In the late 80’s, the family decided to convert the property into a boarding house for students attending the university and visiting the city.  It breathed new life into the huge house.  Maisie had been born there and now took care of the day to day administration duties as her parents work on the other coast running the information technology business they’d started up.  She was studying to be a chef, so the residents were often the recipients of her studying and homework—not that anyone actually minded that since everything she made generally ended up tasting pretty good even if she messed up somehow.  But all of that would come to a screeching halt should her older sister come to tend the family hostel.  Hannah’s cooking could be described as a bioweapon and her short temper was like a weapon of mass destruction.  Claudia foresaw dark days ahead with the departure of the sweet-natured Maisie Hall-Gaddy.

Maisie announced her departure at dinner that night and drew up a letter to distribute to all of the residents letting them know about the change in management.  The next day she visited her guidance counselor on campus and explained the situation.  It took a little time, but the two of them managed to come up with a plan that wouldn’t take Maisie too far off her projected plan of graduation, got her re-registered for the online classes that she could attend remotely from the next state.  Finals came and the whole boarding house fell into a silent funk as people conducted staring matches with open textbooks and notebooks filled with chicken-scratched notes.  Maisie was scheduled to depart for her family obligation at the close of the semester and, with all the commotion of preparing to leave and finishing classes, the second piece of mail was neatly forgotten.

Claudia did not forget that the invitation had arrived—she had gotten one too and had on more than one occasion considered RSVPing to it with some carefully chosen, colorful language.  The audacity of Washington Wales to invite her to the wedding after subjecting everyone to the engagement party was like pouring lemon juice on an open wound.  Claudia was sure that this time no one in their group would attend.  It was just too much.  And it was getting harder and harder to lie to clueless Lily Ayres about the entire messy situation.  Still, Claudia had been impressed that Maisie could pull off such a poignant performance without completely falling apart in the middle.  All the promises that she had made with that rat bastard of a man were laid so bare that night and yet still she managed to congratulate him on his new love.  It both moved and disgusted Claudia.  Maisie had not sung again since that night.

The night before Maisie was set to leave was also the night after the last of the final exams.  The group gathered for a chilled garden party in the main courtyard of the great house.  Heaters were set up behind the two ends of the long table and there was a fire crackling in a pit off to the side where Hamilton was fruitlessly trying to roast the perfect marshmallow.  Every few seconds a curse would rise up into the chilled night air as yet another flaming cube of soft mallow tipped into the pit.  The others ignored Ham and laughed amongst themselves as they picked a bit at the ends of their dinner and sipped glasses of red wine.  The garden party had been closed to the other residents—it was a farewell and congratulations soiree for just the friends.  Ursula was in the middle of a terrific whine about how unfair it was that no one would be able to join her on her trip to the West Indies.

“Seriously, though, do you have to go to this obligation thing?” she asked for the sixth time.

“Yes,” sighed Maisie, rolling her eyes.  “I’ve told you already, I can’t say no.”

“Couldn’t your sister cover for you?  Or your mom?”

“Nope.  It would have to be a huge emergency and I don’t think anyone would consider fun in the sun as a huge emergency.”

Ursula’s pout became more exaggerated and she looked away, refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the table.  It wasn’t just Maisie saying no to her trip.  Thomas, characteristically, refused to go and both Hamilton and Claudia had to work over winter break.  When she had gotten permission to use her aunt’s house in Trinidad, Ursula had been ecstatic to inform all of her friends of their great fortune.  Now it looked like she would be going alone to the islands to soak up sun and scam on guys.

“So just what is this family obligation thing, anyway?” asked Thomas as he passed the carafe of wine down the table to Claudia’s waiting hands.

Maisie shrugged.  “There’s a small resort the family owns and everyone has to take turns keeping it up.  It’s my turn.”

“Does your family have a hotel chain?” Hamilton asked from the pit.

Everyone at the table threw curious glances in his direction because before this it didn’t seem like Hamilton had been following the conversation at all.  Maisie replied through a half-chuckle, “No.  It’s a coincidence, really.  Plus this is a Gaddy thing, not a Hall thing.  My sister did it last year—our cousin the year before.  My mom had to do it several times when she was younger and so did my aunts and uncles.  No one is immune to the family obligation unless you’re an invalid, infant, or dead.”

“Harsh,” Ursula commented.

“It’s not that bad.  I went up to visit my sister one time when she was doing it.  You basically just keep basic maintenance and make sure that the guests have everything they need.  There’s hardly ever anyone up there, so it’s a nice quiet kind of retreat.  I think when my sister did it, there were two guests.”

Thomas frowned, “Then how does the inn make any money?”

“Apparently it’s not about money,” Maisie told him.  She topped off her glass and took a sip.  “I asked the same question when I was a little kid and they told me that money was not the goal of Peach Orchard Hill.  The goal was customer service.  I don’t know exactly what that means, but I suspect that once I read through the eighty page manual that they mailed me, I’ll have a better idea.”

“You haven’t even read it?” he asked incredulously. 

“No.  I had finals.  They can have my undivided time once I go on the clock.  My mom agreed.”

“She’s pissed, isn’t she?” Claudia laughed.

Maisie rolled her eyes.  “Yes, but she can’t say anything.  At any rate, you guys should come up for Spring Break or something.  I’m sure no one will care and I’ll be glad for the company.”

“Will you be there alone?” asked Thomas.

“No.  Someone else should have the same obligation as me and there’s regular staff as well.  The place is a working farm as well.”

“Then we should definitely go up and see how you’re doing,” smiled Claudia.  

“Then a toast,” Ursula proposed.  “To Maisie’s exciting winter in the middle of nowhere tending sheep!”

“To the sheep!” came the cries.

Maisie clinked her glass with the others, while emphatically denying the presence of sheep on the farm.  The party lasted into the wee hours of the night when the chill turned biting and finally forced them indoors.  Thomas helped her clear the table and put out all of the lights.  Maisie didn’t hurry at her task, though.  She wanted to savor the garden for as long as possible since it would be months before she would see it again.  

“You’re regretting it, aren’t you?” Thomas asked her quietly as he gathered a fourth fork onto his plate.

“Yes and no.  I’ll miss you guys and this place, but it’s the best excuse for avoiding that wedding.”

“So you did look at the invitation.”

Maisie sighed.  “It’s on my mirror upstairs.  I haven’t opened it, but I know what it says.  I don’t want to go.”

“No one would blame you for not going, even if this obligation thing hadn’t come up.”

“Yes, but without this Peach Orchard Hill trip, I’d have to explain to Lily why I’m not attending the happiest day of her life, and I don’t know that I can ruin her day like that.  Just because I feel miserable doesn’t mean she has to as well.  It’s not like it’s Lily’s fault—“

“—Isn’t it?  She must know.”

The anger in Thomas’ voice was unveiled—something rare for the normally even-tempered young man—and his eyes flashed with a hatred that Maisie didn’t even want to approach.  She set down the tray that she had been using to collect wine glasses and stood next to his tall, lanky frame so that she could hook her arm into his.  She held onto him for a long moment before taking a breath and reminding him gently, “You know she doesn’t.  If Lily knew, she would never have asked us to attend the engagement party, much less the wedding.”

“I suppose,” he conceded grudgingly.

“Come on,” smiled Maisie, “in the grand scheme of things, there are worst things than being dumped.”

“Magnificently dumped,” Thomas corrected.

Maisie raised an eyebrow as the corners of her mouth twitched.  “Sorry, I forgot.  I was magnificently dumped, wasn’t I?”

The entire event—though traumatic—definitely went into the record books for the most brutal of break ups.  It had been two years ago on a crisp March evening in the city.  Maisie had been nervous all day because she knew that she was finally getting to eat at the hottest new restaurant with her boyfriend of two years.  They had met at a party when she was a senior in high school and hit it off almost immediately.  When a few guests got rowdy and it looked like the party was ready to take a turn for the worse, Washington stepped in and broke it up.  He removed the troublemakers with an even, yet firm, flair that immediately restored the party to normal function.  Even though she wasn’t the host of the party, Maisie made it a point to thank him for the assistance and they ended up talking through to the next morning long after the last of the hostel residents had retired to bed.  He was an acquaintance of the guy who was visiting from Hungary and was working as a freelance photographer in the city.  Maisie listened all night to fascinating stories about places she’d only ever seen on television and was pleased to find that Washington found her own tales of the people who’d passed through the hostel equally interesting.  By dawn, he had her phone number and left with promises to call.  He called that afternoon and that’s when their relationship took off.

The initial reservations from the Peanut Gallery were the obvious ones: the age gap, the fact that he was a complete stranger, that he’d never heard of Animaniacs—the list went on and on.  Washington slowly grew on all of Maisie’s friends and he was eventually folded into the social circle as a vetted member.  Things went well from there.  Maisie got a chance to travel to beautiful locations to watch Washington work and he made sure to see her at least once a week, even if he was waist-deep in work.  If she were to pick the moment when it began to fall apart, it would probably be the family gathering for her maternal grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday.  It was a gala, so everyone was done up in fluffy ball gowns and tails.  Washington was—as expected—Maisie’s escort and she took him around vaguely introducing him to family members since the subject of their dating hadn’t really been broached outside of the immediate family.  It was there that Washington met Lily.  It would prove to be the beginning of the end.

Maisie went on with life afterwards unaware that her life was slowly falling to pieces.  She attended class and spent time with a slightly distracted boyfriend who made small excuses whenever she questioned him.  But that time began to dwindle.  Washington seemed to be brooding over something and Maisie couldn’t figure out what was bothering him.  The Peanut Gallery assured her that it was probably nothing and that maybe he was just planning something big and having a hard time keeping it from her.  Maisie accepted this.  She looked for clues about what he could be planning, but nothing came to mind until March rolled around and he invited her out to High Hat Harry’s.

Maisie spent hours getting ready for their date.  It had suddenly become perfectly clear why he had been so withdrawn lately.  Dressed to the nines in a flirty A-line, cotton dress and stacked-heel mary-janes, Maisie walked into her worst nightmare.  Washington was already at the table sipping a glass of red wine when she arrived and he smiled in greeting, rising to pull out her chair for her.  He was oddly quiet—only speaking when the waiter came to inquire about their order or to give short, non-committal response.  After several failed attempts to start small talk, Maisie finally asked, “What’s the matter, Wash?  Am I boring you?”

“Hm?  No.  It’s just that we need to talk.”

“I thought that was what I was trying to get started.  What’s been going on with you?  You’re always distracted and it feels like you’re avoiding me.  Is it a secret plot to overthrow the universe?  Because if it is, I can totally be helpful with that—“

“—Maisie,” he interjected seriously.  Maisie’s open mouth shut, the small joke lost under the weight of his tone.  Sitting back in his chair and raking his fingers through his hair, Washington said, “I’ve met someone else.”

Maisie blinked.  Frowning, she said, “I’m sorry, you’ve what?”

“You heard me.”

“But it has to be an auditory hallucination, because I thought you just told me that you’ve met someone else.”

“Maisie—“

“—Stop!  Let’s set aside the fact that you’re starting this break up process with the most clichéd phrase known to man, but you’re doing this today?”

Washington sighed.  “It won’t be any easier tomorrow.  I’ve been thinking of how to do this gently for some time now.”

“So this isn’t sudden.  You’ve been seeing this other person while pity-dating me.”

“It’s not pity—“

“—Then what do you call it?”

Washington’s expression hardened.  “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Maisie shrugged.  “Too late for that.  So now what?  Do I cry and fly into hysterics?  Will that sway you into reconsidering me?  Or has the damage been done?”

“I didn’t think that you were that kind of woman,” Washington commented quietly, his voice barely registering over the music playing through the restaurant’s sound system.

Maisie closed her eyes and leaned back into her own chair.  Now they were as physically far apart as they could be while sharing a two-top dining table.  “You have a point.  Is she at least a good woman?  If you dump me for a bitch, I may need to have you killed.”

“She is very sweet,” smiled Washington.  His eyes seemed to drift elsewhere as if he was seeing the image of her replacement in his mind.  It sent a wave of an emotion through Maisie that made her feel like she was going to vomit right there at the table.  “You’d like her.”

“I’ll never really be able to like her,” Maisie reminded him, pushing the sickness down by taking a deep breath.  “I’d never attack her, but we could never be friends considering how all of this went down.”  Maisie rolled her eyes.  The thought of the situation made her smile and that smile turned into a giggle.  The giggle quickly leaked out into a full-out laugh.  “This is utterly ridiculous!  You give the lamest presents ever.”

Washington frowned in confusion.  “Are you okay?”

Maisie laughed even louder, causing several heads in the restaurant to turn in their direction.  Rising from her seat, she collected her coat and pulled it on before hoisting her new Coach bag up onto her shoulder.  “That must be a joke.”

“Seriously.  Where are you going?  I thought we were going to have dinner.”

“Your girlfriend might get the wrong idea,” Maisie snarked, unable to keep the hurt out of her tone.

“Stay—“

“—No,” she snapped, cutting him off immediately.  “I’m sure that I can find better things to do on my birthday than sit here and be hurt by you.”

“Your birthday?”  Washington’s confused expression eventually melted into one of recognition and then horror.  He had been so busy trying to find a way to gently break the news to Maisie that he had completely let go of time and forgotten the reason why he had kept the idea to make a reservation at this restaurant in the first place.  Maisie had been wanting to come there ever since it opened after reading the rave reviews in the local magazines and he’d been planning to surprise her for her twentieth birthday.  “Umm…look…”

Maisie shook her head.  She turned to head out of the restaurant and paused on her third step from the table.  Putting up one finger, she made an “ah-ha!” expression and did a spinning about face to return to the table.  “I forgot,” she said, picking up her water glass.  Tossing the contents of it into his face, she smiled and said, “This is my cliched response.  Drop dead, Washington.”

Maisie made it to the corner before the tears were so heavy that she couldn’t see to walk forward.  Hanging onto a lamppost, she fell into a puddle of sobs and snot.  She had never had the knack for crying beautifully.  Her tears were always messy and unseemly.  People strolling on the street paused to watch the spectacle before shuffling along uncomfortably.  No one wanted to approach the sobbing woman crouched on the sidewalk against a bright green post.

Washington, it turned out, wasn’t even upset at the water antic.  He was just still in shock that he had managed to screw things up so damn perfectly.  By the time he’d shaken that feeling off, Maisie was gone from the corner—though she hadn’t gone far.  One of the people on the street that had witnessed her small emotional breakdown was a restaurant worker taking a break for a smoke.  

He’d heard the crying before edging out of the alleyway to see the girl crumpled on the street in tears.  There was something so heart-wrenching about the way that she was crying that he was moving even before he’d had time to think about it.  Tossing his cigarette to the ground, he stalked over to the girl and scooped her up from the sidewalk.  She gave little resistance and allowed herself to be herded back into the alley—something that in retrospect was probably pretty dangerous when Maisie really thought about it—and then into the bustling kitchen of High Hat Harry’s.  

The worker sat her on a folding chair near the alley door and rushed off to find her tissue.  In the end, the best he could do was a spare roll of toilet paper and when he thrust it before her weeping face, the girl finally seemed to notice him.  She hiccuped and stared at the toilet paper for a long moment before beginning to smile and eventually laugh.  Reaching up to accept it, she joked through residual chuckles and sniffles, “Really?”

“It’s a kitchen.  We don’t usually have a need for Kleenex.”

The girl looked around, suddenly aware of her location, and frowned.  “Where—?”

He finished her sentence, “—are you?  The kitchen of High Hat Harry’s.  I saw you on the street and you looked like you could use a hand.”

“There’s an understatement.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Got the worst birthday gift ever.”

“Dead relative?”

“Close.  Found out that I was being two-timed and dumped at the same time.”

“Ouch.”

“He didn’t even wait until I finished my food,” she sighed, wiping her face with the rough, paper squares.

“What were you eating?”

The girl cocked her head to the side as if thinking about it.  “I had wanted to try the shrimp pasta, but we never got past ordering the salads.”

“Wait here,” he said and then he walked off to disappear into the roiling sea of line cooks.

After about five minutes, a stocky teenager emerged from the side room with a card table and a white cloth folded over his arm.  He set the table in front of Maisie and snapped the tablecloth across it.  The boy disappeared and then returned again with a small vase of violets and a votive candle, which he promptly lit with a butane torch.  A young woman in her twenties dressed in the waitstaff uniform appeared next with a wine glass, rolled silverware, and a bottle of expensive looking wine.  She placed the napkin roll onto the table and then proceeded to pour the wine.

Maisie just watched in baffled awe as the whole thing unfolded--too stunned to point out that she wasn't old enough yet to be served the wine.  Her world was already off kilter given the events that had occurred before in the main room of the restaurant.  About five minutes after she’d had the table setting pop up out of nowhere, the worker who'd pulled her into the kitchen peeled out of the screaming line cook mob with a streaming bowl balanced in a dish-clothed hand.  He set the bowl onto the table in front of her and then took a small step backwards.  Maisie stared stupidly at the very dish she had planned to order and then looked up at the young man standing at the table.

“Why?” was all she could articulate.

“It would suck for me if the only memory you had of this establishment is the dick who screwed your night.  Hell, it would suck for you.  So enjoy your food—you’ll need the strength to forget and get over that ass.”

Maisie’s brain processed his words slowly.  Before she was aware of it, she had unrolled the silverware and placed the linen napkin in her lap.  Twirling the pasta onto her fork, she stabbed a shrimp and brought the bite to her lips.  Maisie had to blow a few times on it before shoveling it into her mouth and then something amazing happened.  For a moment, she really did forget all about Washington.  The explosion of flavor in her mouth was overwhelming and she found herself smiling in spite of herself.

The young man seemed satisfied with her reaction and excused himself to get back to work.  Maisie continued to eat her meal—savoring each bite—and watched the activity in the kitchen.  She had never been in a professional kitchen while it was running at full capacity.  There was an energy back there that was absent from the main dining room.  Maisie was fascinated.

By the next week, she had changed her major from Music to Business.  In addition to the new field of study, Maisie started taking evening culinary classes.  When she returned to the restaurant to thank the man who had salvaged her birthday, the kitchen staff informed her that he had left for the West Coast the previous day.  Apparently he had been only helping out at the restaurant as a favor to the owner.  Maisie was ready to leave—a little disappointed to have missed a chance to say thank you—but she was stopped by the hostess that was answering her questions.  She stood awkwardly in the rapidly filling waiting area, shifting and apologizing as the standing area became more and more cramped as people milled about waiting for tables.  The place was as popular as ever.  The hostess returned to her position at the podium to assist the slightly flustered wait staff who had been covering for her and waved to Maisie to get her attention.  When they locked eyes, she gestured for her to look to her right and then went back to answering phones and organizing the seating in the dining room.  Maisie glanced in the direction that she had pointed and saw the executive chef that she had admired wading through the crowd towards her.

“Hello!  He said you might come back!” he smiled breathlessly.  George Louis wiped his hand on his double-breasted white jacket and extended a meaty hand towards Maisie.  She took it tentatively—still in shock to actually be meeting the man himself—and he pumped her hand up and down enthusiastically.  “I’m sorry that the two of you missed each other.  He had to return to the the home office.”

“It’s fine.  I just came to thank him again for the nice evening.”

George Louis fished in the pocket of his jacket and produced a white envelope.  “Harry left this for you.”

Maisie took the envelope and turned it over in her hand.  It was addressed to The Birthday Girl Who Was Magnificently Dumped.  She laughed in spite of herself and looked up to thank the chef.  “Thanks a lot.”

“Not a problem.  Please come back any time.  You always have a table and a good meal waiting for you here.  He says you don’t pay.”

George Louis excused himself back into the kitchen after shaking her hand once more and then leaning in to kiss each of her cheeks.  Maisie just stood there for a few minutes as she took in what had transpired in the past five minutes.  When she came out of her stupor, she looked down a the envelope in her hand and decided to find some place to read it.  Maisie was stopped once again as she tried to exit the restaurant by the hostess and directed to follow a waiter to a booth near the window facing the now-closed patio.  The waiter informed her that they had been told to seat her because she was staying for lunch.  Flustered, Maisie tried to order something small, but when her order came out it came with all kinds of extras that she hadn’t asked for with the message from George Louis to “try them out.”

While Maisie picked at her food—truly bewildered because of the sheer amount that now crowded her table—she opened the envelope and pulled out the folded card inside.  The words that she read that day would be the beginning of a long friendship.

Dear Birthday Girl,

    I had wanted to see you before I had to head back, but they said I was taking too long and insisted that I come home.  Are you still crying over that asshole?  I hope not.  They’re never worth it—the cheaters, I mean.  Keep your head up.  If it makes you feel any better, I had someone spit into his food after you left and he’s been blacklisted at the hostess stand.  He’ll never eat in High Hat Harry’s again, so rest assured that this is the one place where you never have to worry about bumping into your ex.  Of course, you’ll run the risk of bumping into me, which may or not make you happy.  It would make me happy.

    Now that I’m rambling, I guess I’ll end this here.  I’ve jotted my contact info on the back of this note so that you can decide whether or not to properly stalk me now that you are hopelessly infatuated with me.  It’s okay, I get it all the time.  I promise not to report you to the police.

    Well, if you’re smiling by now, my note has served its ultimate purpose.  Keep your head up and, seriously, stalk me properly.

 

- Harry

Maisie cracked an eye open at the blaring sound of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem belting out Can You Picture That?  It was a special ringtone, so she took the time to remove her right mitten with her teeth, dig the smartphone out of her bag and swipe the screen to answer.  “Hello?” she croaked into the phone.  The caller on the other end answered cheerfully and Maisie sighed, “Do you know what time it is here?”

“Here?  Does that you’ve made it to your destination?”

“Yeah, but my train was delayed so I missed the bus.  Right now I’m waiting for someone from the facility to pick me up.”

“Huh.  It figures you would disappear the very week I finally find some time to come back into town.”

Maisie rolled her eyes.  “Stop pouting into the phone and cut the drama.  You can still stay at the boarding house if you like.  Hannah's covering."

"Oh God, not your sister!" he cried dramatically.  Maisie chuckled.  Harry actually liked Hannah--he said she was a breath of fresh air since she did nothing to hide her craziness.  They'd had a tumultuous first meeting where Hannah pretty much cussed him out in a combination of three different languages. It had to do with the t-shirt that he was wearing—a silk screen that made snarky references to a political movement that she fanatically supported.  When they finally cleared the air, Harry was sold on Hannah.

But he was genuinely disappointed that he was going to miss Maisie. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find excuses for the extra business trips which always meant shirking his responsibilities at home. Even if his intervention had been on a whim, Harry found that picking Maisie up from the sidewalk that day was the best decision he'd ever made.

Sighing into the phone, he confessed, "Actually, I was planning to cook with you. I want to see what you've learned so far. I even brought recipes to try."

"Sorry."

"It's okay.  I'll just have to come out and see you there."

Maisie could hear the smile in his voice. "Slow your roll, son. I haven't even gotten there yet."

"I just wanted to give you something to look forward to," Harry pouted.  "Besides, I'm still upset that I didn't make it to that engagement party."

"Why?  Because you missed the chance to see me make an ass of myself?"

"The way I hear it, you took the house down."

Maisie had to process that for a moment. Her eyes widened as she realized what had happened and she sucked her teeth.  "Tsk.  You and Ursula need to de-friend...like now."

"But then I'll never know about all the fun that happens around you in my absence.  Anyway, enough of that," he said, forcefully changing the subject. "Seriously, are you okay?"

Maisie sighed.  Running a hand through her short mop of tight curls, she assured him, "I'm fine. This job will give me the perfect alibi for skipping out on all of the happy couple's festivities.  Once they're married, I can't even hold onto hope anymore."

"Would you seriously take him back?"

"No.  At least I hope I have more sense than that.  I just hope that once he's officially someone else's this sick feeling will go away."  Maisie hesitated.  "It *will* go away, won't it?"

"Eventually.  You still love him after all of this?"

"I'm a world-class idiot, but yeah.  It's hard to let go of how happy I was."

"Then you need to put more energy into becoming happy again.  You deserve to be happy, Maize.  Sometimes I wonder if you believe that."  The silence on the other end of the phone confirmed what Harry had suspected--no matter what they'd said to her, Maisie still blamed herself.  It made him angry that she was still holding onto a destroyed love. Harry knew that it wasn't fair to expect her to be fine with all of the things happening around her.  Ursula had contacted him about the engagement party invitation. He'd tried desperately to change around his schedule so that he could appear at the party to be Maisie's support, but it was impossible. Once again, by the time he had gotten there, it was only in time to clean up the shattered pieces of her pride and discarded love.  It made Harry's blood boil to imagine that somewhere the center of all of Maisie's pain was her destroyer, happily enjoying his wretched future while she continued to allow the past to haunt her.  "Well since you're going to Peach Orchard Hill, I'll come up there to hang out a bit."

"You really don't have to," Maisie told him again.

"Oh, but I want to!" he replied brightly, recovering from the dark thoughts that had passed through his mind only moments before.  "And before you protest again, let me tell you that I already have a reservation.  My winter conference will be using your state-of-the-art facilities in the new year.  I'm scheduled to come up next week to do a walk-through."

Maisie rolled her eyes and he could hear it through the phone.  It made Harry laugh.  "So the whole visiting the boarding house and cooking with me was all just a--"

"--a pretense?  Yes, sadly.  But it makes my surprise all the more tantalizing."

"Not to rain on your little parade, but wouldn't it have been more shocking to have shown up suddenly without giving me a warning first?"

"Perhaps," conceded Harry, "but then you'd have absolutely nothing to look forward to."

A noise just outside of Maisie's hearing caused her to sit up just a little straighter.  Straining, she could make out the low grumble of an engine drawing closer and closer to the bus station that she'd been stranded outside for the past two hours.  Finally, she thought, my ass is growing ice crystals.

Scrambling to her feet, Maisie managed to balance the cell phone against her ear as she gathered her luggage and stepped out into the driveway to meet the approaching truck.  "Hey, my ride finally came.  I'll email you when I get in."

"Okay.  Take care."  It sounded like Harry wanted to add one more thing, so Maisie hesitated before ending the call.  But then he ended up hanging the phone up himself, leaving her wondering if she was just imagining things.

As the truck neared the station, it slowed down and then swung gently into the driveway to stop just in front of Maisie and her luggage.  The headlights illuminated the darkened sign identifying the Green Maple Bus Terminal and Train Station.  When Maisie had arrived, the last bus had already left and the last train until morning had been the one that she'd just alighted.  The station manager was starting to close the terminal when Maisie arrived and had given her the bad news.  He further compounded the bad news by telling Maisie that he couldn't let her wait inside because he had to close up for the night.

A call to Peach Orchard Hill secured Maisie a ride back to the facility, but they reminded her that it would take about two hours for them to get to her.  It wasn't like she could argue so she'd assured the staff that she would be fine waiting at the depot and then settled in for the long, cold wait.  The driver's side door creaked open and a young, lanky man hopped down from the cab onto the pavement.  He turned to greet Maisie gruffly, hoisting her bags up into the truck bed without a wasted word while she shifted from one leg to another trying to get some feeling back into her ass.  The ground had been unforgivingly cold and Maisie's coat had long since stopped being effective at keeping the chill at bay.  Once her stuff had been chucked into the back, the young man went around to the passenger side door and yanked it open.  It took Maisie a moment to realize that he was opening the door for her, and she hurried around the front of the truck to climb into the warm cab.  The young man checked to make sure she was all in before slamming her door shut and then strolling around to the other side to climb in himself and secure his seat belt.

"Sorry you had to come all the way out here," Maisie offered, electrically aware of how irritated the man seemed to be.  His face seemed to hold a permanent scowl and he moved like he wanted this entire ordeal to be over as soon as possible.

Without glancing her way, he replied quietly, "It wasn't a problem," and then he didn't say another word for the next hour as the truck sped down the empty highway, sweeping wildlife and treelines with bright headlights.

About halfway through the drive to the facility, signs for a rest area began promising relief from a long journey.  Maisie hadn't been able to eat anything since lunch and her stomach was starting to growl something awful.  She looked longingly out the dark passenger side window at the signs as they sped by, but said nothing for fear of further inconveniencing the young man who already had to take four hours out of his life to pick her up.  If she was lucky, the kitchen was stocked with food at Peach Orchard Hill and she could whip herself up something quick once they arrived.

Suddenly the truck began to lose speed and they pulled off the main highway at the sharp, winding exit labeled seventy-four on the green signs overhead.  The young man drove a short distance down another lonely stretch of road until they reached a brightly lit plaza of gas stations, restaurants, and motels.  He pulled into an empty spot in front of a long building with neon signs advertising twenty-four operation and cut the engine.  Unlocking the doors to the cab, he commented, "You must be hungry."

"Do you have time for this?" Maisie asked sheepishly.  She was ravenous, but had enough manners to know that she shouldn't impose.

"It doesn't matter.  The food here is good."

The young man hopped out of the truck and came around to Maisie's side while she was fiddling with her purse to open her door again.  She thanked him and used the large, bony hand that he offered to her to steady herself as she climbed down from the high cab.  The man led Maisie to the entrance of the restaurant by the small of her back and then stepped ahead of her to open the glass doors so that she could step inside.  The restaurant was warm, but quiet.  There were four other customers in the large dining room and light country music played over the speakers.  Maisie imagined that at full capacity, a person wouldn't be able to hear themselves think in this place.

The hostess needlessly asked how many were in their party and then pulled two laminated menus from the host stand with the request for Maisie and the young man to follow her across the dark, brown carpeted floor.  They were given a booth with a view of the motel parking lot and a large, brightly lit statue of a cow standing at a grill wearing an apron.  She informed them that their server was named Jane as she handed out the menus and wished us a pleasant visit.

The young man immediately opened his menu to study the offerings for the night.  Apparently depending on the night, the restuarant served different dishes.  On this Wednesday night, the special was corned beef hash and a roasted chicken on potatoes with green beans.  Jane arrived within four minutes of their seating with two glasses of water and straws.  She was pleasant with a distinctive Southern drawl and bottle-bleached hair that she kept pulled back into a pony tail.  After taking the orders, Jane disappeared again into the dimly lit abyss of the restaurant floor, leaving Maisie and her driver to sit in awkward silence.

One minute passed.  Then three minutes.  Maisie tried to ignore the silence between them, but it was really beginning to bother her.  Finally, when she couldn't stand the situation any longer, Maisie asked, "So, what's your name?"

"Ted."

And the conversation ended.

Sighing, Maisie decided to just give up getting to know him.  Instead she studied Ted under the new conditions of the single lamp hanging over their booth.  He had a long face and a pronounced chin.  Small hints of light-colored stubble hinted at his true hair color which was currently kept a mystery by a snug-fitting knit cap tucked over his ears.  When Ted looked up, Maisie could see that he had muddy, green eyes with flecks of gold.  His eyes drifted around the room periodically, but mostly he seemed to study the mostly empty motel parking lot with some curiosity.

Soon Maisie found her attention drawn to the same parking lot--her own curiosity about why he was so fascinated by it taking firm control.  A dark colored sedan and a minivan were parked directly across from the restaurant's glass pane window under a strong flood light.  A dog slunk along the sidewalk outside the motel room doors, pausing briefly to inspect the minivan.  Whatever had caught his attention quickly lost it and the dog moved along out of their view.  No matter how long Maisie stared at the scene, she couldn't tell what Ted was so interested in.

Jane returned to the table holding two steaming plates of food soon after Maisie gave up looking out of the window.  At first Ted didn't even seem to notice his food, but then he slowly turned those blank eyes towards his plate and begun to tuck in.  Maisie watched him eat out of the corner of her eye as concentrated way more closely to her own food than necessary.  It was standard fare--though she liked the use of tomatoes in her dish--and it hit the spot for calming down her insistent stomach growling.  About halfway through the meal, she decided to try again.

"So, has the other volunteer shown up yet?"

"If you're referring to your cousin, then yes.  She arrived earlier in the afternoon."

"She?  Does that mean I'll be sharing the room with her?" Maisie wondered aloud.

Ted took a long swig of water from his glass and informed her after the swallow that her cousin had her own room due to special circumstances.  When Maisie tried to probe deeper, Ted shut down the conversation again.  She decided to honor his request for silence since she'd gotten some good information from him.  Maisie could still remember Hannah complaining non-stop about having to share a room with the cousin she ended up working with.  There was a third cousin who was working that summer as well, but because he was a boy, he got his own room.  Hannah insisted that he was getting special treatment.

There wasn't a whole lot that Maisie could really complain about regarding the set up of this tour at Peach Orchard Hill.  School had been much less of a hassle to rearrange than she had thought it would and she had no problems taking a hiatus from housing since her family owned the boarding house.  And, even though she felt a little guilty knowing that this was true, it gave her the perfect alibi for not attending the wedding from Hell.  As much as it bothered Maisie that her ex had been cheating on her with Lily, it bothered her even more that people thought that Lily had done it on purpose.  Just by talking to her, Maisie knew that Lily was an innocent party and it seemed unnecessarily cruel to ruin what was supposed to be her happy day with such bad news.

Maisie pulled a small notebook from her purse and jotted down some notes about the dish that she had just consumed.  Even as common as the food had been, there were several elements that she wanted to experiment with once she got the chance to stand in a kitchen.  As she described the flavors in the chicken dish, Maisie caught movement in the corner of her eye.  She turned to look out of the plate glass window and saw that the dog was back again, only this time it was low to the ground, baring its teeth as if threatening the empty air in front of it.  Maisie tried to see if there was something or someone standing just out view that had agitated the dog, but no matter how she twisted in the vinyl-covered bench, she couldn't see the trigger for the dog's behavior.  Ted was also looking out the window again, his mouth continuing to chew each shoveled bite of food thoughtfully while he studied the scene outside.  Then suddenly he was wiping his mouth with his napkin and excused himself brusquely to the men's room.

Maisie didn't think much about it at first.  She nodded and made some kind of half noise of understanding.  He left the table and she went back to wondering how the scene outside the motel wasn't disturbing the people staying in the rooms.  It was almost two in the morning.  

Jane returned to the table to ask whether they needed anything else.  Maisie looked away from the window to address the waitress and pointed towards the motel, "Is that really okay?"

"Is what okay?"

"The dog.  Won't he disturb the guests?"

Jane frowned.  "What dog?"

Maisie snapped her attention back to the window and saw that indeed the dog seemed to be gone.  Ted appeared behind Jane and quietly asked her to let him pass.  He took his seat across from Maisie again and resumed eating his meal.  Something tugged at the back of Maisie's brain about all of this, but she dismissed it for being tired and rationalized that the dog must have just seen some wild animal and scared it off.  Ted asked for the check and Jane produced it in a black folio from her apron.  

Ted paid for the meal before Maisie could offer or argue.  He stood and pulled on his insulated parka while exchanging what could pass as friendly partings with the waitress and then waited patiently for Maisie to gather her belongings to leave as well.  She was escorted out like she was escorted in--with his hand on the small of her back--and once again Ted opened her door and made sure that she was secure in the cab before rounding the large truck to climb in himself.  

Maisie was asleep by the time the truck roared out onto the main highway once again.  It was a dreamless sleep since she was so exhausted and she didn't wake until a large, bony hand gently shook her to let her know that she had reached her destination.  The hour nap had done little to take the edge off how tired Maisie was and she leaned up against the door of the truck in the damp, winter air while Ted unloaded her stuff.  Nothing stirred except for Ted and herself in the still, country air.  All of the regular wildlife chatters had gone to sleep to hand the wee hours of the morning over to the night prowlers.  Maisie knew that they would be back in full force once the sun began to rise, though.  She pulled her coat tighter across her body and began to jump up and down a bit to get her heart rate up.  It was too cold to be this sleepy.

The truck was pulled up in the circular, gravel driveway of a large, wooden farmhouse. There were flood lights attached to the sides of the house casting pools of bright white light onto the grounds immediately surrounding the house and a singular porch light lit up the covered wrap around that disappeared around the corner.  In the distance, Maisie could make out a large, lit up building.  The gravel road seemed that seemed to connect it to the farmhouse was lined with white fences that seemed to contain dark fields on either side.  While she was staring off into the darkness, Maisie didn't notice Ted come back around the truck and started when he said in his quiet voice, "It's not a good idea to walk that road at night.  You should use transportation whenever possible."

"Why?" asked Maisie.  "Wild animals?"

"Something like that."  Ted clammed up again and ushered her around to the wooden steps that ascended to the house's porch and unlocked the screen door.  Changing keys, he then proceeded to unlock the front door and stepped into the darkened house.  

Maisie waited patiently while he found and turned on the lights.  She stood off to the side of the door so that he could carry the bags into the house from outside.   Looking around, she silently whistled in approval of the beautiful interior that surrounded her.  The large foyer featured a turning staircase just across the space that appeared to climb to the second floor landing that looked out over the space below.  A doorway to the right of the staircase led into a dark room and a similar doorway was directly across the space from it.  All the doorways were framed in a dark wood--in direct contrast to the bright blue painted walls, and the narrowed hallway beside the staircase led deeper into the farmhouse.  Maisie suspected that it ended in the kitchen.

Ted returned shortly with his arms loaded with all of Maisie's luggage and headed directly up the staircase to the second floor.  Maisie followed him up and was surprised when he walked down a narrow hallway to a second stairwell and then climbed once again towards the attic.  When Ted flipped on the lights in the attic room, Maisie couldn't hold back the gasp.  The entire space had been renovated into what amounted to a studio space.  The sleeping area was located on a raised platform in the back corner and there was an open bathing area across from it on a similar platform.  A claw foot tub was the focal point of the bathroom area, featuring floor-length curtains hanging from the ceiling that could close the area off for more privacy.  It was in front of a large, picture window that looked out over what was behind the farmhouse and adjacent to the window along the slanted eaves was a large walk-in shower with frosted, glass doors.  A small room was located off the shower stall with a stained glass door beside a counter either a sink and mirror above it.   Just off the stair landing was a sitting area with large, comfortable-looking sofas and chairs cantered around an inviting fireplace with a flat screen television over the mantle.  There was also a small kitchenette tucked under the same eaves as the shower and a dressing area was directly across the space with a floor-length mirror and wardrobe.

Ted set Maisie's luggage down in the seating area and turned to hand her the keys.  "The blue and red keys unlock the porch and front doors.  The brass key unlocks this room.  Catherine says that she will be by to pick you up at six, so you should probably get some more sleep."

"Where do you sleep?" Maisie asked.

"In the bunk house down the road.  Catherine will give you the tour in the morning."  Maisie nodded and thanked him through a huge yawn and Ted replied, "You're welcome," before heading down the attic stairs and shutting the door behind him.