Nothing like a good hot breakfast – Friday Fiction

October 3, 2014 Friday Fiction 0

Nothing like a good hot breakfast – Friday Fiction

It was early March, and while the afternoons were becoming warm
there was still a chill in the morning air. Caroline dressed in jeans and a
light sweater then hurried downstairs. She had no sooner slid into a chair
when Ida came from the kitchen with a large platter of scrambled eggs
and sausage links. That was followed by baskets piled high with
homemade biscuits and pieces of honeydew melon cut into tiny squares.
The platters were passed around the table and everyone, including
the bone-thin Harriet, shoveled a good-sized portion onto their plate.
Louie scooped up twice as much as the others. “Nothing like a good hot
breakfast,” he said and passed the platter to Wilbur.

When everyone finished eating there was not even a stain left on the
platters and only one biscuit left in the basket. As Ida began stacking the
dirty dishes, Caroline joined in. “They sure are a hungry bunch,” she

“That they are,” Ida replied, “but it’s mighty nice having them.” She
told Caroline how Big Jim’s sickness had depleted their bank account.
“The only thing of value I had left was this big old house, so I started
renting out rooms. Max was first.” She turned to Caroline. “Did you
know he’s your granddaddy’s baby brother?”

Caroline shook her head. “Up until a few days ago, I didn’t know I
had any family.”

“Well, you sure do now.” Ida smiled. “You’ve got me, and I still think
one of these days your daddy is gonna come walking through that door
hollering he’s back home.”

“That would be nice,” Caroline said, “but I’m not holding out a lot of

“You never know.” Ida grinned. “You just never know.”

Caroline had to admit that was true. If an unknown grandma could
come from out of nowhere, it was possible her daddy would one day
come home.

As Ida washed the dishes, Caroline dried them and breathed in the
smell of sausage and biscuits that lingered in the air. “You sure are a
wonderful cook.”

Ida gave a big hearty laugh. “Shoot, honey, this’s nothing but down
home cooking. Anybody can do it.”

“Not me,” Caroline replied. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Didn’t you cook for your young man?”

“Hardly ever. He wasn’t home much, and when he was we generally
got take-out.”

“Take-out?” Ida repeated. “Like pizza?”

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