Free A Baked Ham by Jessica Beck Page B

right.   Not only did I polish off my
portion of our omelet dinner, but I probably could have eaten a little bit of
his, if any had been left.
    “That was magnificent,” I said as
I put my napkin down on the empty plate.   “Thank you.”
    “You’re most welcome.   Do you have any room for dessert?”
    I groaned a little at the mere
thought of it.   “Sorry, but I couldn’t
eat another bite.”
    “Even if your mother brought some
banana pudding over while you were gone?”
    It was my favorite dessert ever,
and Greg knew it.   At Christmases, Martha
had made a small bowl of it just for me, and no one was allowed to sample from
my bowl, not even Moose.   Mom had carried
on the tradition at the diner.   Whenever
she made banana pudding, there was always a small bowl set aside just for
me.  
    Sometimes it was great working
where I did.
    “Maybe I could have one bite,” I
said, though I wasn’t at all sure where I was going to put it.
    “Should I grab two spoons?” Greg
asked.   “I’d be more than happy to help
you with it.”
    “You can if you’d like, but
you’re not getting any of my banana pudding, so don’t even ask.”
    “What happened to us sharing
everything once we got married?” he asked me with that grin of his that never
failed to lighten my heart.
    “I told you then, and I’ll tell
you now.   There’s a great many things
that I’ll share with you, but banana pudding is not one of them.”
    He threw a rag at me.   “Suit yourself.   I’ll just get mine out of the common bowl.”
    “That works out great for me.”
    I only meant to take a bite or
two, but I was halfway through the bowl when Greg asked, “We’re still going
tonight, right?”
    “We are,” I said as I finished
the bite on my spoon.
    “And are you still planning to
wear the same dress you wore last night?”
    “I thought I would, since it’s
the best one that I own.”
    He lifted up a cookie sheet and
held in front of him as a shield as he said, “Then, you might want to give that
dessert a rest if you have any hope of fitting back into it.”
    He flinched, as though preparing
himself for an assault, but I didn’t throw anything.   Instead, I put my spoon in one of the dirty
dish bins, wrapped the pudding up, and then I put it back in the fridge on a tall
shelf in back.   “Thanks for that,” I
said.
    “I should be the one thanking
you,” he said.
    “Why is that?”
    “You let me get away with saying
that without throwing a single thing in my direction.   Your restraint is growing by leaps and
bounds.”
    I kissed his cheek.   “I appreciate the sentiment, but let’s not
make a habit of it,” I said with a smile.   After glancing at the clock, I said, “I’m going on out early to help
Jenny.   We’ve got a little more than two
hours here, and then we get to go home and get ready for the play again.”
    “I just hope that it has a better
ending tonight,” Greg said, and then he caught himself.   “That wasn’t the best thing in the world that
I could have said, was it?”
    “That’s why you work in the
kitchen away from our customers,” I said with a laugh.  
    “Yeah, when you think about it,
that’s probably a good thing.   At least
nobody’s going to die at the theater tonight.”
    “That’s my hope, too, but I’m not
making any promises.”
     

 
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
    “What are you doing here?” I asked Moose as he walked into the diner’s
kitchen a little before seven.   It wasn’t
his usual habit of showing up near the end of our day.
    “I came by to have a few words
with you,” he said.   “I’m just glad that
you’re still open.”
    “Why wouldn’t we be?” I
asked.   “It’s not seven yet, is it?”
    “No, but with the play tonight, I
was afraid you might lock the doors early.”
    “There’s not much chance of that
happening,” I said with a smile.   “After
all, I learned from the best, and someone once told me that unless there’s