The Welcoming

eggs.”
    “I haven’t got time. I—”
    “Sit,” Mae repeated, waving a wooden spoon. “You need fuel.”
    “Mae’s right,” Dolores put in. “A body can’t run on coffee. You need protein and carbohydrates.” She set a blueberry muffin on the table. “Why, if I don’t watch my protein intake I get weak as a lamb. ’Course, the doctor don’t say, but I think I’m hydroglycemic.”
    “Hypoglycemic,” Charity murmured.
    “That’s what I said.” Dolores decided she liked the sound of it. At the moment, however, it was just as much fun to worry about Charity as it was to worry about herself. “She could use some nice crisp bacon with those eggs, Mae. That’s what I think.”
    “I’m putting it on.”
    Outnumbered, Charity sat down. The two women could scrap for days, but when they had a common cause they stuck together like glue.
    “I’m not peaked,” she said in her own defense. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”
    “A warm bath before bed,” Mae told her as the bacon sizzled. “Not hot, mind you. Lukewarm.”
    “With bath salts. Not bubbles or oils,” Dolores added as she plunked down a glass of juice. “Good old-fashioned bath salts. Ain’t that right, Mae?”
    “Couldn’t hurt,” Mae mumbled, too concerned about Charity to think of an argument. “You’ve been working too hard, girl.”
    “I agree,” Charity said, because it was easiest that way. “The reason I don’t have time for a long, leisurely breakfast is that I have to see about hiring a new waitress so I don’t have to work so hard. I put an ad in this morning’s paper, so the calls should be coming in.”
    “Told Bob to cancel the ad,” Mae announced, cracking an egg into the pan.
    “What? Why?” Charity started to rise. “Damn it, Mae, if you think I’m going to take Mary Alice back after she—”
    “No such thing, and don’t you swear at me, young lady.”
    “Testy.” Dolores clucked her tongue. “Happens when you work too hard.”
    “I’m sorry,” Charity mumbled, managing not to grind her teeth. “But, Mae, I was counting on setting up interviews over the next couple of days. I want someone in by the end of the week.”
    “My brother’s girl left that worthless husband of hers in Toledo and came home.” Keeping her back to Charity, Mae set the bacon to drain, then poked at the eggs. “She’s a good girl, Bonnie is. Worked here a couple of summers while she was in school.”
    “Yes, I remember. She married a musician who was playing at one of the resorts in Eastsound.”
    Mae scowled and began to scoop up the eggs. “Saxophone player,” she said, as if that explained it all. “She got tired of living out of a van and came home a couple weeks back. Been looking for work.”
    With a sigh, Charity pushed a hand through her bangs. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
    “You didn’t need anyone before.” Mae set the eggs in front of her. “You need someone now.”
    Charity glanced over as Mae began wiping off the stove. The cook’s heart was as big as the rest of her. “When can she start?”
    Mae’s lips curved, and she cleared her throat and wiped at a spill with more energy. “Told her to come in this afternoon so’s you could have a look at her. Don’t expect you to hire her unless she measures up.”
    “Well, then.” Charity picked up her fork. Pleased at the thought of having one job settled, she stretched out her legs and rested her feet on an empty chair. “I guess I’ve got time for breakfast after all.”
    Roman pushed through the door and almost swore out loud. The dining room was all but empty. He’d been certain Charity would be off doing one of the dozens of chores she took on. Instead, she was sitting in the warm, fragrant kitchen, much as she had been the night before. With one telling difference, Roman reflected. She wasn’t relaxed now.
    Her easy smile faded the moment he walked in. Slowly she slipped her feet off the chair and straightened her back. He could see her body tense, almost muscle by muscle. Her fork stopped halfway to her lips. Then she turned slightly away from him and continued to eat. It was, he supposed, as close to a slap in the face as she could manage.
    He rearranged his idea about breakfast and gossip in the kitchen. For now he’d make do with coffee.
    “Wondered where you’d got to,” Mae said as she pulled bacon out of the refrigerator again.
    “I didn’t want to get in your way.” He nodded toward the coffeepot.