Page 94 of The Leaves In Autumn
The two-foot section is broken in two, and the first car is on its side. Teddy added the toy soldiers guarding the wreck for extra affect. He said there was hazardous material onboard. We spent about a half hour fucking around lining them up. Making up scenarios like we were kids. Once a boy. Barbra joins in the pretense.
“There’s been a derailment! Glad the military’s here.”
“Think it would have been a little tight for us anyway. Here’s an idea. Why don’t be just walk across the border?”
She’s smiling.
“Great. I prefer walking, anyway.”
We start back, passing the kitchen window. Was that Teddy sneaking a look? A dark shadow moved away from the glass. Barbra noticed too.
“We’ll probably see a tourist or two,” I explain. “This is a popular destination we’re headed for.”
“And where is that?”
“Tuscany. It’s just over this last bend in the road. I have a small vacation home there. Did you know?”
“You never mentioned it.”
Rounding the corner, sounds of Tuscany reach us. Perfect timing, Teddy. When her eyes ask I answer.
“This is Puccini’sOmiobambino.”
She takes in part two of my five-day, four night project.
“I may cry! And don’t try to stop me. Let me take this in. Wow!”
“Crybaby.”
The first heavy tear spills down her cheek. Hopefully, she hardly recognizes my familiar stone patio under a normally high ceiling overhang. The pleasant view of our backyard lawn and classic landscaping remains the same. The rest has been transformed. No longer are we in Montana. It’s a farm to table luncheon in Tuscany. Above the table, we hung a faux ceiling the length of the table, with vines wound in wooden slats. Tiny twinkling lights look good even in the middle of the day.
“Aargon this is wonderful.”
“I’m happy you like it. I had help.”
“The table! It looks beautiful.”
Shades of autumn in Italy. Teddy and I loved that we came up with that. His followers have already seen it all. Colors pulled from harvest vegetables. Warm oranges, reds, olive green. The golden yellows pull everything together.
“Look at the linens! And the food! You did a spectacular job.”
“I had to give my A game. I’m trying to impress a stager.”
“I think you bested me.”
The bold pumpkin colored tablecloth sets the stage. I tied the cloth napkins with a piece of burlap. Each has a sprig of lavender stuck in it. Does she smell the scent is in the air? One chunky candleholder amidst the food, presents a fat cream colored candle. And in a bowl, zucchinis, kale, and garlic bulbs share space with greenery and a few flowers from the garden. It looks better than I imagined.
Walking to the head of the table, I hold out the chair.
“This is the birthday girl’s place of honor.”
“I could be hallucinating, but would my mouth be watering? Where did you find everything?”
She takes her seat, and then I do at the opposite end of the table. I unwrap the napkin.
“Due diligence. I learned Tuscan food is based onCucina povera.Poor cooking. That’s what people had to do way back when. But it’s standard fare now. Nothing beats it.”
“This bread looks fantastic.”
