Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
ARROW - 78. Chapter 78
Arriving home, the boys were going to take a nap. I went to the kitchen to talk to Marcel. I wanted his input on James. We had less than two weeks before we would leave for Italy.
Mrs. Anderson arrived Sunday by taxi. I had plan on going and pick her up, but I was planning our trip and lost time.
“Mrs. Anderson, I apologize for not coming to pick you up. Be assured I’ll drive you home. After lunch, I’d like to show you our kitchen and the bunk beds I’d like to get for the orphanage.”
“Mr. Rowe, the taxi ride was convenient as I had to make a stop before arriving here. James had asked me to check out your kitchen, he’s quite enthusiastic about the possibility of working here. You are developing a cult in the orphanage.”
“It isn’t my intent to have them looking at me as a cult leader. I would be satisfied if they looked on me as an uncle.”
Colin joined us. He knew Mrs. Anderson. Over lunch we chatted about how best we could help her and the orphanage. She mentioned the lunch on Friday and that Armand is being referred to as Uncle. She discussed the high regard the children have of us. “I think you’ll be called uncle soon by them all. Now they refer to you as uncle but are a little shy to call you that to your face.”
“Mrs. Anderson, I would like for you to call us by my first name and I think Colin feels the same way.”
“I would like that. My name is Patricia . There are times when my involvement with the children can be quite emotional. You both have provide emotional breaks for me.”
“Colin, I want to show Pat the boy’s bunk bed. When we had the lunch this week, there was a young man named James who I hired to work in our kitchen. He has asked Pat to check it out. Marcel is our chef and you’ll need to meet him. James will work for him.” I had told Marcel I have hired him a student.
Lunch being over, Pat was ready to meet Marcel. Getting up from the table, Pat noticed the mural. “I didn’t notice that wall when I first came in. Who painted that?”
“My husband painted that. I’m quite proud of his painting.” Pat looked confused.
“I thought Armand was your husband.”
“He is and yes, he painted that.”
She went to look at the mural. Looking at Armand, “Do you paint for a living?”
“I paint for my pleasure, however there are people who want to buy them.” Colin started to laugh. “My husband is a recognized artist.”
“Let’s check out the kitchen.” Walking into the kitchen at any time, it is always exceptionally clean. I think Marcel wouldn’t put up with a dirty kitchen or any employee who would cause the kitchen to become dirty.
“Marcel, this is Mrs. Anderson from the orphanage. The young man who I have hired for you to teach is a resident of the orphanage. He has asked her to check out your kitchen.”
“It is nice to meet you Madam.” Marcel’s accent gives his nationality away.
“Marcel, I need a list of clothing James will need.”
“If he could come tomorrow, I’ll take him to the culinary school outlet where I can get him clothes and shoes.”
“What time do you want him to be here?”
“If he is here around 11, we can have lunch.”
Marcel taught French cooking at the Institute of Culinary Education in New York. He was tired of teaching, but he told us that French cooking wasn’t appreciated. The staff tried to
Anglicize French cooking. When Colin bought the building for his generation’s club he needed a chef. On a tip from his mother’s maid, he went to the culinary school where Marcel was working. Over a dinner at a French restaurant, he offered him the Chef’s job at the club. Marcel accepted and the rest is history.
I knew he had been offered positions at well known resorts and up scaled French restaurants. Colin treats him as a valued friend, Marcel knew if he wanted a new piece of equipment, Colin would get it for him, no questions asked.
Leaving the kitchen we headed upstairs to see the bunk beds. Walking into our apartment, the boys were sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. As soon as they saw Mrs. Anderson, they stood.
“Continued eating boys. Mrs Anderson is here to look at your bunk beds.”
Walking to the boys’ room, “These are the bunk beds I’d like to install in your bedrooms.”
We watched as Pat looked over the beds. I showed her the drawers under the beds and the cabinet at the end of the beds.
“If you are in favor of installing these beds, I can have them come out to the orphanage, and with your help, they can draw a plan for each room.”
“What about the small children?”
“We could design bunk beds for them with rails on the top to prevent them from rolling off the bed. This rail is high enough for our boys, but for the small children we can put another rail.”
“This would provide more floor space.”
“Give it some thought. Colin, the boys and I will be flying to Europe in a few weeks. We will be back at the end of August in time for school. I’ll let the furniture people know what my intention is. I’ll give them your name and they may want to take a look at the rooms.”
We stopped and had a final cup of coffee. I drove Pat back to the orphanage.
Coming home, Colin and the boys were on the roof. I joined them. No sooner had I sat down than Richie was by my side.
“Do you think she’ll go for the beds?”
“I think she will. She has nothing to lose and everything to gain. We have a little over a week before we go to Italy. I was thinking of next week-end taking the boys and the kids at the orphanage to a ball game. I think the Hartford Yard Goats are playing this coming Saturday.”
I saw Colin’s mouthing Yard Goats, I began to laugh.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
Now the boys began making noises like a goat. Of course, that ended up with Colin and I tickling them.
They were still laughing as they got ready for bed. Lying in bed next to Colin, we would hear them. They would be quiet until one of them made a noise like the bleating of a goat. Then they all would laugh again. Laughing causes an effect, you don’t know why you are laughing, but you can’t stop laughing as well.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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