Chapter Nine
Katie opened the picnic basket and handed two plates to Benjamin. “Let’s have lunch and maybe you will stop worrying about Miss Ethel. I hope you like what I made.”
“I’m sure I will,” Benjamin replied but glanced up at the house. “She’s not there,” he whispered.
“I know, she went inside a few minutes ago. Here, I brought silverware and cups.”
Benjamin accepted them, smiled, and placed them on the blanket. Katie handed him bread, a bowl of potato salad, a plate of ham slices, and napkins. “I made a cherry cobbler for dessert, and we have lemonade.”
“Mmm, lemonade is my favorite drink.”
“I would think it was beer or whiskey. Isn’t that what most men like to drink?” Katie asked and wondered if she was too forward.
“I suppose, but I haven’t had whiskey since I was fourteen.”
“Fourteen,” Katie exclaimed.
Benjamin mumbled. “You would have thought we learned after the cigar incident.”
Katie set down her plate and stared straight at Benjamin. “Are you going to tell me about the cigar incident and why a fourteen-year-old drinks whiskey? If you mention this to Miss Edie or Miss Ethel, they’ll want to know and might banish you from the house.”
Benjamin’s eyebrows shot up, but then he smiled and said, “If I tell you, will you keep my secret?”
More secrets, Katie thought. Oh well, she had enough one more couldn’t hurt. She nodded, and Benjamin continued.
“When Michael and I were twelve, he stole two cigars from his father’s office in the hotel. His father only bought the best for his customers and kept them in a box on his desk. We wondered what all the fuss was about and one Saturday afternoon, we found out. No one explained to us about how to smoke a cigar, and we inhaled the smoke, too much smoke. I was so sick I could barely make it home. My mother was worried that I was coming down with some dreadful disease until she smelled the smoke on my clothes. She sent me to my room and told me I deserved what I had. The next morning, I still felt a bit sick, but I didn’t say anything, my mother ignored me, and my father smiled. I think he understood.”
Katie laughed out loud. “It sounds as if you learned your lesson the hard way.”
“I certainly did and so did Michael. He shared the same experience, and neither of us has smoked since that day.” He picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite. Swallowing, he looked over at Katie. “I suppose you never did anything wrong.”
Katie giggled. “Nothing as bad as cigars, but Ella Grace and I tore a lot of dresses and stockings climbing trees and running through the fields. We did have one small calamity with a blueberry pie.”
“Do tell,” Benjamin said leaning closer.
Katie stared off into the distance as if remembering that long-ago day. “It was a Sunday, and we just returned from services. I was eight, and Ella Grace was ten. We were hungry, but we had to wait because Miss Edie invited guests. Ella Grace decided if we just ate a little of the pie on the counter no one would know. We took the pie out behind these pines although they weren’t as tall as they are now. One thing led to another, and we ate most of the pie with our fingers. They were purple as were the many spots on our good Sunday dresses. We tried to wash our fingers and faces, but the evidence was still there. We also ruined our dresses.”
“Did you get in a lot of trouble?” Benjamin inquired taking a fork full of potato salad. He was falling helplessly for the woman sitting across from him. He could listen to her talk for hours.
“Not as much as you’d expect. We brought the nearly empty pie plate back, apologized, and were sent to our room without supper. That wasn’t so bad since we were full of pie, but after the guests left, Miss Edie came up to our room and told us how disappointed she was. She expected better from us. I think that hurt worse than if she cut down a switch, but we were never physically disciplined. Miss Ethel explained that thieves begin with small things and would grow up and end up in prison. She also said if we couldn’t learn to behave like ladies she would send us to a convent. That scared us because neither one of us knew what one was. When a friend at school explained that was where nuns lived, and if you were sent there you never came back, we were terrified. At the time, we didn’t know what a nun was either and believed her awful story.”
Benjamin bit back a laugh. He wasn’t sure if Katie was serious or joking.
“Then we had to wash our dresses, and of course the stains didn’t wash out, so we wore them that way every Sunday until we outgrew them. We never took anything that didn’t belong to us again.” She finished and took a big gulp of lemonade. She picked up her fork to continue eating and asked, “So what about the whiskey?”
“It’s like the cigar story. Michael and I were fourteen and curious. His father’s hotel has a lounge similar to the one in the Inn. He also kept his favorite expensive whiskey in his office. Michael borrowed a bottle one Saturday afternoon. I don’t know how much we drank, but we both passed out. Our fathers found us later that afternoon and got us home somehow. I woke the next morning to wide open curtains, sunlight blinding me, and my father’s booming voice telling me it was time to get up, do chores, and get ready for church. I thought I wouldn’t survive. He gave me a cup of coffee,
