“I’ve created a menu for your dinner party,” Gilli said as she put her egg on a piece of toast. She sat down across from him. Lifting the cooked egg white, she stabbed the yoke and spread it across the toast. “Pepper?” She lifted the shaker and passed it to him. When he refused it she gave three sharp shakes over her own breakfast and replaced it next to the salt.
“My dinner party?” Robert wasn’t yet awake.
“Yes, the one we discussed last night.”
Robert didn’t remember their exchange being what he would call a discussion but Gillian was already invested in her plans. “I think shepherd’s pie is a good choice because one can make it go into small or larger portions. A Cornish pasty is rather finite, in contrast.”
“Ah.” Robert hoped that would be a safe comment. If he asked for further clarification, it would come and he wasn’t yet ready for it.
“Some steamed vegetables and a bowl of cooked apples might go well with that.”
Robert was enjoying his bacon and eggs. “This is going down well. Perhaps we should have them over for breakfast.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. One doesn’t invite people over for breakfast, Robert.”
“Perhaps they should.” He buttered a second piece of toast. “Then they could enjoy a peaceful evening with a good book.”
His sister looked at him. “You haven’t changed much over the years.” She grinned. “You always did have your nose jammed between pages.” She cut a fatty bit off her bacon. “It wasn’t a surprise to any of us that you became a research librarian at the university.”
“And we weren’t surprised you became a teacher. You always were good at organizing things and telling people what to do.”
She smiled, ignoring the slight jab. “I enjoyed my teaching days, but it was becoming harder in the later years. Parents were more difficult to please. There were idiotic new rules imposed by those who’d never taught.” She put her fork on her plate and placed the knife beside it. “I often wondered if the people who wrote those had ever encountered a real child, much less a full classroom of them.”
