Page 55 of Heaven (Casteel 1)


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"We'd love dessert!" shouted Fanny, making other diners turn to stare at us again. "I want that fancy chocolate cake," she said, pointing to the dessert cart.

"And you, Mr. Casteel?" asked Miss Deale in the softest of voices, her eyes looking so kind. "What will you have for dessert?"

I could tell Grandpa was uncomfortable, no doubt suffering from gas when his stomach surely was not accustomed to so much food all at once, and chewing took him forever.

"Anythin . . ." he mumbled.

"I think have chocolate pie," Miss Deale said.

"But I know Our Jane and Keith will love the kind of chocolate pudding they serve here, and Mr. Casteel, Heaven, Tom, all of you select what you want, for it would really make Fanny and me feel miserable to be eating sweets if everyone doesn't join us."

Pie, cake, chocolate pudding? Which one? I chose the pie because Miss Deale had to know best. Fanny's huge piece of cake topped with whipped cream and a cherry enchanted me even as I quickly devoured the pie. But Grandpa, Tbm, Our Jane, and Keith were served the chocolate pudding in fancy footed dishes that made me wish I'd chosen

differently.

As if paradise had finally found its way into her mouth, Our Jane spooned her chocolate pudding onto her tongue so fast she was finished before Keith. She beamed the broadest smile of her life on Miss Deale. "That was GOOD!" she said. Several people seated near us smiled.

It had gone fairly well up until now, but for Keith licking his plate.

I should have known our luck couldn't hold out.

Abruptly, without the slightest warning, Our Jane gagged, turned greenish, then suddenly threw up, right on Miss Deale's wine-colored wool skirt! Some splattered on the crisp tablecloth, some on me.

Our Jane's eyes turned huge, dark, before she began to wail, loud, terrified cries. She tried to bury her face in my lap as I apologized and dabbed at the mess on Miss Deale's skirt with my huge white napkin.

"Oh, Heaven, don't look so distressed," said Miss Deale calmly, not appearing disturbed in the least even as she mopped at her smelly skirt. "I'll send this to the cleaner's, and it will come back as good as new. Now, everybody stop looking worried, be calm, and I'll pay the check while all of you put your warm clothes back on; then I'll drive you home."

The other diners turned their eyes away, ignored the scene. Even the waiters didn't seem disturbed, as if they'd correctly presumed the moment we came in the door that we'd ultimately do something like this.

"I did a bad thin," sobbed Our Jane as Miss Deale signed the check. "Didn't wanna, Hey-lee. Couldn't help it, Hey-lee."

"Just tell Miss Deale you're sorry."

But Our Jane was too shy to speak, and again she wailed.

"It's all right, Jane dear. I remember doing the same thing when I was your age. Things like that happen to all of us, don't they, Heaven?"

"Yes, yes," I said eagerly, grasping at the straw. "Especially when you have a tiny stomach not used to so much."

"I neva threw up on nobody," proclaimed Fanny. "My stomach knows how t'behave."

"Yer tongue don't," threw in Tom.

I carried Our Jane out to Miss Deale's expensive black car. Light snow began to drift down as Miss Deale drove higher and higher, up into the misty clouds where we lived. All the way home I fretted, fearful Our Jane's queasytomach might let loose again and ruin the interior of the magnificent car; but Our Jane managed to keep what else she'd eaten down, and we arrived home without soiling anything else.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," I said humbly, standing on the sagging porch, my sister still in my arms. "I'm terribly sorry about your beautiful suit. I hope the stain comes out."

"It will, I know it will."

"Please ask us agin next Sunday," implored Fanny; then she opened the cabin door and

disappeared inside, slamming it behind her. In a second the door popped open and she called out, "An thanks a heap, Miss Deale. Ya sure know how t'throw a party."

Bang went the door.

"You're one in a million," Tom said gruffly, leaning to kiss Miss Deale's cold cheek. "Thanks for everything. If I live t'be a hundred and ten, I'll never forget today, and you, and your meal, the best I've ever eaten, no disrespect to you, Heavenly."

Of course, now was the time to invite Miss Deale inside and show our hospitality. But to let her in would give her too much information, and that I couldn't do. Though I could sense she was waiting for an invitation, and the chance to see how we really lived. The cabin as viewed from the outside was pitiful enough, but for her to see the inside would keep her sleepless.

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