The Mystery at Mead's Mountain

kitchen tables, some were ornate tables that could have come from the Wheelers’ formal dining room, and some weren’t really tables at all, but other things converted into tables. In a far corner, the Bob-Whites found a large table that had apparently been the door to the old barn. It had plenty of room for everyone, so they claimed it.
    Trixie gazed around and saw that nothing matched. The cloth place mats and napkins were all different colors and designs, the dishes were of various types of pottery, and the chairs were equally incongruous.
    Honey picked up her knife, fork, and spoon. Each was a different pattern. “This reminds me of dinner at the Belden house when it’s Mart’s turn to set the table,” she giggled.
    “Great minds can’t be bothered with such trivia when contemplating loftier considerations”—Mart waved toward the loft in an unnecessary attempt to get his pun appreciated—“namely, the food one eats with these various implements.”
    As if on cue, a waitress came over to their table and handed each of them a menu. “It’s an interesting menu,” she informed them. “Here are some sunflower seeds to munch on while you read it.” She set a pottery bowl in the middle of the table.
    “That’s her way of saying it will be a long time before she'll be back to take our order,” Linda explained good-humoredly. “We have to suffer through reading about terrific-sounding foods, meanwhile contenting ourselves with seeds and water.”
    Trixie, sitting across from Eric, watched him carefully. He kept fidgeting and tapping his fingers. Almost as soon as he picked up his menu, he put it down again. “Have you decided already?” she asked him. “Yeah, I guess I’ll just have the special. The menu’s too long to bother reading.”
    “Mushroom goulash—that does sound good,” agreed Jim. “ ‘Mushrooms sautéed with nuts, tomatoes, water chestnuts, celery, green onion, and Chinese peapods, topped with grated cheese. Served with a green salad and a choice of beverage.’ Mmmm... I can’t decide between that and the vegetarian pizza.”
    “Everything is tasty here,” Wanda said. “Mart, are you finding anything you like?”
    “The cheese lasagna is whispering sweet nothings to my taste buds,” Mart admitted.
    Trixie laughed. “Lasagna ranks right after hamburgers with Mart. He can eat it by the panfuls. I’m tempted by the eggplant Parmesan myself.”
    “The cheese and bean sprout sandwich with the bowl of lentil soup sounds about right for me,” said Honey.
    “I could go for some vegetable chop suey,” Brian decided.
    The waitress did not return until long after the sunflower seeds were gone and the menus had been read and reread. But the food turned out to be well worth the long wait, and the portions were giant-sized. Di offered to trade bites with anyone who wanted a taste of her avocado soufflé, which led to a bite-swapping circus.
    “A veritable vegetable feast” was the verdict from Mart. “Wanda, you’ve won your bet. Meat is not required for a palatable meal!”
    “The Purple Turnip will fit right in with a natural resort on Mead’s Mountain, don’t you think?” Linda asked.
    Everyone agreed immediately.
    In the midst of an argument over ordering zucchini cake or frozen yogurt for dessert, Trixie looked up and exclaimed, “Why, Miss Trask! Pat, Katie, what are you doing here?”
    “It was rather impulsive,” said Miss Trask. “Katie was telling me what an interesting restaurant this is, and Pat said that it’s better to show than to tell, so here we are.”
    “I’m so glad you came,” said Honey. “The food is delicious, almost as good as yours is, Katie.”
    “Oh, we’ve already eaten,” explained Katie. “Pat cooked one of his specialties tonight. Actually, he’s a better cook than I am. We just came to get some dessert and to listen to the music.”
    The Bob-Whites pushed their chairs closer together to make room for the newcomers.
    “Is Rosie holding down the fort out at the lodge all by herself?” asked Brian.
    “That little rabble-rouser could bring down the entire mountain in five minutes flat by herself,” Pat chuckled. “No, the honeymooners offered to watch her.”
    “I didn’t know people on their honeymoon liked to baby-sit,” Di said. “I thought they were just supposed to want to be alone together.”
    Miss Trask smiled. “It seems the man is an English teacher, and there’s a special showing of Macbeth on TV tonight