While she waited for the toast, she poked through the fridge again.
“Milk, eggs, butter, and cheese. That means omelet.”
It took another search through the kitchen cabinets to find the bowls and utensils she needed to make her breakfast. Picking up an egg ready to crack it open into a bowl, she raised it slightly but hesitated.
Put the egg back down again.
“Not this again.”
While the scent of singeing bread rose from the toaster, she stared at the egg on the counter.
“Can’t make an omelet if I can’t crack that thing open.”
She picked up the egg again and held it in her hand. Brown, it was just like every other egg she’d ever held, solid but inherently fragile. The yolk would be yellow, the white still clear and thick. All she had to do was give the side of the egg a couple of solid whacks on the rim of the bowl and empty the shell. The second egg would be just as easy to deal with. All that was required after that were a few quick whips with a fork.
“What’s wrong with me?” She looked at the egg cradled in her hand. “Why can’t I crack these things open?”
She put both eggs back in the bowl, and put them away in the fridge.
“Forget it. Toast will be good enough.”
While she waited for the bread to turn colors, she looked for coffee. Finding none throughout two searches of the kitchen, she had no other choice than to boil water for the black tea she’d found.
Sitting at the kitchen table with her pad of paper and pen, she continued with her list of things that needed attention.
“Okay, the kitchen isn’t a disaster. At least there’s no wildlife in here to kill. But I need to turn on burners first before getting out food if I want to eat breakfast before it’s time for lunch.”
The butter was soft by the time the toast was done getting its suntan. She ate that while the teakettle whistled, and she poured water into her tea mug. Before she could take a second bite, there was a knock at the front door.
“I thought nobody was supposed to be around today?” she muttered as she went to the door. Then she remembered she was still in her pajamas. With a side trip to the bedroom, she put on a robe. She was just getting to the door when there was a second and more insistent knock.
Instead of opening the door, she spoke through it. “Yes? Who is it?”
“Me!” a man said cheerfully.
Gina cinched her robe belt tighter. “Me who?”
“Felix!”
“Okay, but who’s Felix?”
“Are you Miss Santoro?”
“Yes. You know me but I don’t know Felix,” she said.
“Maybe you can open the door?”
There was no peephole to look through, and the closest window didn’t give her much of a view of the man. Opening the louvers a little more made some noise, which Felix noticed. He smiled at her from his position on the front porch. He looked harmless enough, not any bigger than her and a decade older, so she opened the door. Keeping one foot behind it, she looked out at him. “Good morning. May I help you?”
“Were you expecting a cat?” he asked her with one of the largest smiles she’d ever seen.
“Cat?”
“Like Felix the cat?”
“Who?”
“You know, Felix the cat from the cartoons?” he said.
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about and my breakfast is getting cold.”
Felix looked hurt as she tried swinging the door closed. He got his own foot in place before he was shut out. His clothes were simple, just an old T-shirt and baggy trousers. She guessed he was one of the Filipino workers Millie had told her about. “I guess no one knows who Felix the cat was anymore.”
“My breakfast?” Gina said insistently to remind him she had better things to do than discuss cartoon cats that may or may not have something to do with the man on her porch.
“Yeah, first of all, you shouldn’t allow homeless dudes to sleep here.”
“What homeless guy?” she asked.
He pointed to a man slowly walking away. Gina wasn’t sure what she expected a homeless man to look like in Hawaii, but he seemed as grubby as any back in Cleveland. A shaggy mop of dark hair, loose trousers, shoes that looked too big for his feet, and a windbreaker were all she could see of him. On the back of the windbreaker were stenciled the words Oahu Cable. Gina wondered if that was a local cable TV provider or a manufacturer of wire and cable.
“One’s not so bad, but pretty soon you got a whole village of them camping out here.”
“Where was he?”
“Sleeping here on the front porch. I told him to get lost and not come back.”
She watched as the man crossed the narrow bridge. She felt a little sorry for him, that he’d been woken so early and chased off. “Thanks, I guess.”
“There was a cat hanging around.”
“A real one?” she asked.
He laughed at her joke. “Real one. Black. I chased that off also. Stray cats and homeless people are much different from each other.”
“How so?” she asked.
“If it comes back, don’t feed it. Once you get one, others show up.”
“Kind of an impolite attitude, isn’t it?”
Felix did an ‘aw shucks’ thing with his foot. “Maybe.”
Being a little superstitious, something she’d learned from her mother, Gina didn’t like the idea of a black cat hanging around the house. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”
He picked up a shopping bag and held it out to her. What was odd were that his hands were black. “My missus wants you to have something.”
“Okay. Tell her thanks. What is it?”
He held the bag closer to her. “We made more pomegranate jam this morning. Some avocados in there, too.”
Gina opened the door all the way. When she looked inside the bag, there were a half
