Page 8 of A Joyful Ring
Gunder grinned. “In that case, the chicken pie sure sounds good.”
“Now you’re talking!” Lars nodded to the matronly woman, who returned to their table with a pitcher of water and refilled Lars’ glass, then took their orders. She gave Gunder a studying glance before she disappeared into the kitchen.
“That’s Mrs. Thatcher’s aunt, Miss Connor. She likes to think she runs the place. Despite her sour appearance, she’s friendly enough when you get to know her.”
Gunder tucked that information away in the back of his mind and looked around the busy restaurant. There was a mix of cowboys, farmers, businessmen in suits, and even a few men who looked like miners among those dining there. A finely dressed couple with two dark-headed littlegirls made him smile. He’d have to remember what the restaurant looked like and describe it in his letter home to his family. Amalia and Anna would enjoy reading about his experience eating lunch out since it was something his family had never enjoyed.
How Gunder wished he could buy his mother and sisters beautiful gowns and take them in a fancy carriage to a nice restaurant. He wished he could provide for them so his father could quit the job that was slowly killing him.
Perhaps someday he’d be able to do that. For today, he just needed to survive the trip back to Lovely.
It didn’t take long before Miss Connor returned with their meals. The portions seemed large, and Gunder enjoyed every bite of the flaky crust surrounding savory, tender chicken in a creamy sauce. His plate held a serving of fresh peas, and when Miss Connor set a basket full of soft, warm rolls on the table, Gunder hastily buttered one and shoved it in his mouth. It was the best thing he’d eaten since he’d left home.
Lars chuckled and ate a roll with slightly more decorum. When their plates were empty, and Miss Connor had refilled their water glasses again, she stood by the table glaring at Gunder. “You think you have room for dessert, young man?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, offering her his best smile.
She blinked twice, then looked to Lars. “Lemon pie, cherry pie, or cake?”
“Cherry pie for me, please,” Lars said, then nodded toward Gunder.
“I’d also like cherry, please.”
Miss Connor bustled off with their empty plates and soon returned with two enormous slices of cherry pie that were still warm from the oven. Cream flowed over the top of each piece and Gunder felt his mouth water even though his stomach was full from the wonderful meal he’d just eaten.
“Thank you, Miss Connor,” he said, politely. He waited until she’d moved on to another table before forking a bite of the pie and closing his eyes in bliss. The cherries in the filling weren’t canned cherries, but freshly picked fruit that burst with flavor in his mouth with every bite.
Gunder wasn’t certain that he hadn’t moaned from cherry-induced bliss, because Lars chuckled and shook his head at one point. However, Gunder was so busy eating bite after bite of the incredible pie, he didn’t stop to pay him any mind.
“Enjoyed that, did you?” Miss Connor asked when she stopped by the table to pick up their empty plates.
“Those were the best cherries I’ve ever tasted, Miss Connor. Are they grown here?”
The woman nodded. “Sure are. The Wagner family has an orchard on the west end of town. In fact, they had a table in front of their place with boxes of cherries for sale yesterday, if you’re interested.”
“What were they charging?” Lars inquired as he took money out of his pocket and set it on the table to cover their bill.
Miss Connor named a reasonable price, andLars gave Gunder a look he interpreted to mean they were walking to the west end of town to buy cherries.
“Thanks for another tasty meal, Miss Connor. Please tell Mrs. Thatcher how much we appreciate her good food,” Lars said as he stood.
Gunder rose to his feet and nodded in agreement. “It was the best food I’ve had since I left home.”
Wonder of all wonders, Miss Connor smiled, and appeared on the verge of tittering. Lars gave Gunder a nudge toward the door. “Have a nice day and a happy holiday, Miss Connor.”
“You do the same, Mr. Hoffman,” the woman said, watching as they left the restaurant.
“Are we going to get cherries?” Gunder asked, following as Lars walked to the corner, then headed west.
“My daughter would love to have fresh cherries, so I’ll get enough so she can bake a pie, or do something with them.”
As they walked, Lars pointed out businesses and then homes of people he’d met. They arrived at the Wagner farm to find a gap-toothed boy who couldn’t have been more than eight with the reddest hair Gunder had ever seen sitting at a table filled with crates of cherries. Much to Gunder’s delight, there were also a few crates of strawberries, and one of apricots.
“How much for a crate of cherries?” Lars asked, smiling at the boy.
The boy gave them both studying looks before he relayed the same number Miss Connor hadshared.
“I’ll take a crate of cherries,” Lars said, fishing out the money and handing the coins to the child.
