The Inn at Lake Devine Part 20

He lifted the pillow as if tipping a hat, flas.h.i.+ng the smile that had conquered Mrs. Feldman.

I said, "No hurry or anything, but I'm a little tired of hearing about this kiss."

We were led to a round table, where the Seidlers, Reenie and Harry of Staten Island, and the Mizitskys, Marilyn and Al of Queens, were already seated and energetically b.u.t.tering rolls. So happy to make our acquaintance-Natalie and ... Chris, is it?

"With a k," he said, pumping the men's hands across the relish tray.

"Who are you with?" asked Marilyn.

"Miss Marx," said Kris.

"What group, I meant."

"No group. Just escaping for a couple of days."

"What about you?" I asked.

"Eleven ninety-nine," said Al.

Before I could ask, his wife offered, "Health-care workers."

"You're doctors?" asked Kris.

"Doctors!" Al scoffed.

"We represent the health-care workers," said Harry, his mouth full of curled carrot. "Almost everyone here this week is Eleven ninety-nine."

"You two kids," said Reenie, whose red dress s.h.i.+mmered with fish-scale sequins. "Are you married?"

"We're friends," I said.

Kris leaned sideways until our shoulders b.u.mped.

"Okay, good friends," I amended.

"Your first time here?" asked Marilyn.

I said it was, and we'd chosen the Halseeyon for a reason: the Feldmans' daughter, Linette- "What do you do?" Harry asked Kris.

"Wait," said his wife. "What reason? Who's Linette?"

"The daughter," said Marilyn. "The one in the office we spoke to about the facecloths."

"What do you do?" repeated the husbands.

Kris smiled. "I'm in the family business."

"What kind of business?" asked Harry.

"Hotel."

"No kidding? What hotel?"

"The Inn at Lake Devine in Vermont."

"How big?" asked Al.

"Forty-two guest rooms and four cabins."

"Small."

"Can you make a living from a place that size?" asked Harry. "If you don't mind my asking."

"We get by," said Kris.

"Do you get big names up there?" asked Reenie.

I could see Kris mentally scanning the mailing list. "She means entertainers," I said.

"We're not set up for that," said Kris. "We're on a beautiful lake, so we have swimming, boating-"

"How's the food?" asked Marilyn.

"Hearty."

"Kosher?"

Kris said, "No."

"Vermont," Reenie reminded her.

A waiter, dressed in black pants and a short black jacket, appeared with six small tomato juices and mimeographed menus. I noticed the first item was "Melon Cup" or "Choice of Your Favorite Juice." I asked what the melon was this time of year.

"The little b.a.l.l.s," he said.

"I'll have that," said Kris.

The waiter darted into the kitchen and returned immediately with six Melon Cups.

"What's good, Victor?" Harry asked.

"Everything."

"What's too good to pa.s.s up?"

"The roast beef. The capon. The turkey. The flanken."

"I'll have the roast beef and the turkey," said Harry.

"Same," said his friend.

"For the ladies?"

"Is the flanken fatty?" asked Reenie.

"Get it," said her husband. "You can taste it. Get the chicken, too."

"I'll have the chicken," she told the waiter. "No flanken."

"Me too," said Marilyn. "Just the capon."

"I'll have the roast beef, rare," Kris said.

"Well done for me," said Harry.

"Same," said Al.

I asked what the flounder was stuffed with. Victor rattled off, "They take crackers, melted margarine, garlic powder, bell pepper, parsley-"

"Fine," I said.

"Natalie's a chef," Kris told them.

"Can you bring us more pickles?" asked Al, handing over the relish tray.

"Just the roast beef?" Victor asked Kris.

He looked at the menu. "Can I get... let's see ... a baked potato?"

"It comes with potayda kugel," said the waiter.

"You'll like that," I said.

"He means, Do you want another main course?" said Marilyn.

"Is that the practice?"

The waiter said, "Nothing surprises me-one, two, half a dozen-"

"I'll start with one," said Kris.

"You do catering?" Marilyn asked me.

I said, No, I was a restaurant chef.

"A French chef," Kris added.

I said, "I trained with a French chef."

"In France?"

"In Newton, Ma.s.s."

"Natalie can tell whether boiling water's been salted just by sniffing the steam," said Kris.

"I know Newton," said Harry. "My kid went to college with a kid from Newton."

"What's your job at the hotel?" Al asked Kris.

"Night manager; jack-of-all-trades."

"Are your service employees organized?" asked Harry.

"We don't have many."

"How many?"

"Depends on the season."

"Probably exempt," Al said to Harry.

"We love your dress," said Reenie. "At your age you can wear black."

"And fitted," said Marilyn, who was concealed under a chocolate-and-cream awning-striped caftan.

"He likes it too," said Reenie, winking at Kris, who winked at me.

"We have a daughter who's dating a non-Jewish fellow," said Harry.

"Harry-" scolded his wife.

"He's a nice enough boy, but he's a Roman Catholic."

"They're only eighteen years of age, though," said Reenie.

"Too young!" said Al.

"No, I meant eighteen is good. These things don't last when they start that young."

"Not that we're prejudiced," said Harry. "I've spent my whole adult life fighting that kind of c.r.a.p at the bargaining table."

"They're not interested-" his wife said.

"They don't mind! Do you mind my discussing this with you?"

Kris and I said no.

"Your folks go along with this?" Harry asked me.