seat next to Merdon or the one open next to Mary, across from him. Emily made the decision for me by taking the end seat.
It’s just one meal, I told myself. No big deal.
I set the dish on the table, ignoring the way his unwavering gaze made my insides twitchy, and took my seat.
Mary removed the lids off the dishes, and my stomach roiled at the aroma wafting in steamy curls from the egg bake. There were no sour notes of food gone bad or poorly prepared to explain my reaction. Likely, it was just due to my general mood. Something a drink would soothe.
Knowing what was expected of me, I handed her my plate and watched her scoop out a moderate portion. She did the same for Emily and herself. James received a bit more, but Merdon’s plate got the majority.
The meal had progressed only a few bites when Mary dropped her fork. It bounced off the edge of the table and fell to the floor.
“Damn this cold and my arthritis,” she mumbled, already bending down to retrieve it.
I scooted my chair to the side to give her more room as her top half disappeared under the table.
A sudden bang against the surface set all the dishes rattling.
“Sweet mother of Jesus,” Mary said loudly.
A moment later, she extracted herself, wide-eyed, with the fork clutched in her hand.
“Mary?” James asked.
“Yep. That one,” Mary said vacantly, staring at Merdon, who, like the rest of us, was watching Mary and wondering what was going on.
“Spit it out, woman. What’s wrong with you?” James said.
She turned her gaze to her husband.
“It’s the size of my grandma’s rolling pin. The one she hit grandpa with over the head because he’d stayed out drinking too late.”
She swallowed hard and looked at Merdon.
“Bless you, boy. You’re going to make some woman very happy someday.”
Then, she began fanning herself vigorously with her free hand.
“You need to settle down, Ma,” James said. “The last time you got this worked up, you almost broke my rolling pin.”
My fork clattered to my plate. I felt traumatized on more levels than I could count. I couldn’t even look at Merdon to see if he understood what had just happened because he’d sat at Mary’s table while wearing nothing but a towel.
James’s gaze swept over his guests.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “It looks like we could all settle down. Maybe just a breakfast nip.”
He got up from the table and shuffled to a sideboard that looked like it was from the 1970s. Sliding the panel front to the side, he revealed a cache of bottles that made me want to weep with joy. With my mouth drying by the second, I watched him select an aged brandy.
“For the orange juice,” he said, catching my stare.
I could have kissed the old man. Instead, I got up to help him pour.
Mary drank hers straight, having already drained her juice, and held out her glass for a bit more. As much as I wanted to do the same, I drank my diluted brandy, fully aware of Merdon’s persistent scrutiny.
It was a relief when Mary and James finished their meals and Emily started to clear everyone’s plates.
“Not much of an appetite, dear?” Mary asked, noting I still had more than half of my meal left.
“I drank too much juice. Where’d you find it?”
“The fey bring us all sorts of supplies,” James said. “Especially the liquid kind. They know the alcohol helps with the aches and pains Mary and I have. Medicinal, you know.”
There was no need to justify the merits of alcohol to me. Thanks to James, I’d discovered its benefits not long after the world fell to shit.
A buzz went off somewhere in the house.
“Merdon, that’s the washer. Do you remember how to switch over to the dryer, or should I help you?” Mary asked.
James snorted.
“The man remembers. You stay in your chair, Ma, or you’ll give yourself a fit.”
Merdon left the room, and Mary leaned toward me.
“The towel fell off of Tor when he was here. He’s not quite as big as Merdon but thick.” She shook her head and made num-num noises that someone her age shouldn’t make. At least, not around someone my age.
She straightened away and took my plate. “I’ll just wrap this up for you. I’m sure you’ll want it later.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with James. Without asking, I grabbed the bottle and went to put it away.
“You have a hefty collection here,” I said, returning it to