No pressure, though.
He opened his Word program and fired up his work-in-progress. As he read over the last paragraph he’d written, Joyce’s voice interrupted him.
“Breakfast is ready.”
He got up, not minding the interruption, as he had only just begun, and took his coffee out to the kitchen. The table was set with his plate. Three fat fluffy pancakes sat stacked one on top of the other with three pieces of bacon next to them. Syrup and butter were close by.
“This looks fantastic.” He sat down, spreading the napkin over his lap. A sudden impulse took over. “Are there more pancakes and bacon?”
Joyce brought the coffee pot over and topped off his cup. “There are. You want more already?”
He glanced up at her, watching her face. “What I want is for you to get a plate for yourself and join me.”
Nothing but a hard stare for a moment. “Are you feeling all right?”
He laughed. “I feel fine. Just…not in the mood to eat alone.”
Smiling now, she shook her head. “We don’t eat breakfast together. We don’t eat any meals together.”
“We did last night.”
She blinked. “I suppose we did. You’re sure about this?”
“Joyce, I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”
Still hesitating, she finally nodded. “All right. If that’s what you want.”
He waited for her to bring a plate over before he started eating, using the time to add syrup to the pancakes. “How’s your sister doing? You said you talked to her the other day?”
“I did. She’s doing fine.”
“You must miss her.”
Joyce drizzled syrup over her pancake. She’d only gotten one, and just one slice of bacon. “I do. But that’s life, isn’t it?”
“Why not bring her over here to visit?” He took a bite of pancake, the syrup dripping off in amber strings. No one made pancakes like Joyce. They were more like dessert than breakfast. Good thing he’d run this morning.
She looked at him, her fork poised over her plate. “She can’t afford that. Her husband passed away two years ago, and her finances aren’t as robust anymore. Truth be told, I think she’d move here if she could. She’s got a son in New York.”
“Could she really move here? What would she do for work? Or wouldn’t she need to?”
“She’s got her retirement from the bakery, but I suppose she might find something part-time. Working in a shop or whatnot.”
He ate a piece of bacon while he thought. “Why don’t you talk to her and see when she could come over. I’ll pay her way.”
Joyce’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
“Why would you do a thing like that?”
“Well, to make you happy. It would make you happy, wouldn’t it?” Joyce nodded and her chin wrinkled oddly. He realized she was trying not to cry. He stabbed another piece of pancake. “Unless you don’t like her as much as you let on.”
“Don’t be daft, that’s my sister you’re talking about. I love her.”
“Then it’s all settled. You make the flight arrangements. Use the credit card you use for the shopping. We’ll hire a car to bring her from the airport.”
“You’re serious.”
