We wish each other a good morning and I shut the door behind him. I sure wish I’d taken time to put my face on.
First thing I do when I get into work every morning is head out to the dining room to brew coffee. Our girls are mighty choosy when it comes to their joe. Last fall, they told Mama Carla they wanted a coffee tasting, so she ordered in four kinds of beans. They settled on a special brew from clear out in Portland, Oregon. Now I’m the one grinding those beans every morning.
Once I get that started, make sure there’s plenty of sugar, Splenda, stevia, half and half, skim milk,andalmond milk, I set out my breakfast bar. Bagels, three kinds of cream cheese, butter, an assortment of muffins, and fruit in case someone wants a grab-and-go. Then I head back to the kitchen and straight to the walk-in. Pull out a flat of eggs, milk, butter, and cheddar cheese—all the ingredients for my grits—then set it on the counter. Some of the girls like grits for breakfast. I like to make sure there’s a plenty of oatmeal, too.
On top of that, we take special orders for eggs. Some order scrambled; some order fried. Others may want an egg-white omelet, especially if they’re trying to reduce. There’s a lot of pageant girls in Mississippi. Two or three of them right here in Alpha Delta Beta.
Auntie puts down the long wooden spoon she’s been using, turns to me. “I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout you, dahlin’.”
“Is that right? What about?”
She’s opening and closing her mouth, like she’s struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think I’m steppin’ up in your business, but… pretty as you are, you need a man.”
I almost burst in two from laughing. I need a man. What else is new? I measure out my ingredients, pour them all in the pot. Then I turn on the eye. “Is this about our money talk the other night?”
“No, it is not. I just think you need a man.” When I don’t comment, she goes on with her own business, but a minute later says, “I haven’t heard you talk about no one special since Les. What happened to him, anyway?”
I turn to see her staring at me. “Lester is married now. Don’t you remember me telling you that?”
“Not really.” She leans in toward me. “What about Gerald Sorrels? Last I hear, he single again.”
I think about ignoring that comment, too, but that’s not my way. “There’s a reason for that.”
She presses her lips together and stares me down. “Listen here. You’re forty-four years old and you ain’t gettin’ no younger.”
I’m not looking at her on purpose. I’m working on my oatmeal, stirring the ingredients around in the pot. Then I say, “Nobody knows that better than me.”
She softens. Out of the corner of my eye I see her push up her glasses. “I know that, baby. I just hate to see my beautiful niece going to waste.”
I look at her then. Press my hands into my hips. “I’m not going to waste.”
She hangs her head. Her feelings get hurt over the least little thing. She can dish it, but she sure don’t like to receive it. “Forgive me, sugah. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Seeing how ashamed she looks takes away all the irritation I’m feeling. “Don’t worry about it. I’m all right.”
Aunt Fee adjusts her apron, looks back up. “I’m only tryin’ to tell you it’s a shame a girl as pretty as you’s not married.”
“I tried that once. It didn’t work.” My ex-husband is the last person I want to be thinking about right now. And she knows it.
“That don’t make a bit of difference. Plenty of women try it again. Queenie’s daughter been married four times.” She dips the long spoon back in her pot and slurps up a taste.
“That would be the difference between Queenie’s daughter and me. No thank you.”
We both laugh.
“One of the deacons at our church—you know Brother Carlson?”
I give her a slight nod.
“He ain’t married. And he’s anice-looking man!”
“Aunt Fee.” I shove my hands back on my hips. I’m dead serious this time. “He’s an old man. What do you think I’m going to do with a man that age? Besides get him ready for his casket.Shoot.”
“He ain’t that old. He’s my age.”
I sigh. This conversation is going nowhere fast. “I don’t want just any man. I’ve got my sights set high.”
“All right. That’s good. Long as you’re lookin’.” She opens her mouth to say something else then pauses. Her words trickle out slowly. “You woulda made a wonderful mama.”
