Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant - Anne Tyler [134]
“Very nice. Very classy,” said Beck.
“Stripped down these floors …”
“I hope you don’t serve that kind of food a fellow can’t identify.”
“Oh, no.”
“A mishmash of food, one thing not separate from another.”
“No, never,” Ezra said.
Cody watched with interest. (Ezra very often served such food.) Ezra led Beck through the room, waving an arm here and there. “See, these tables can be moved together if anyone should … and this is the kitchen … and these are two of my cooks, Sam and Myron. They’ve come in especially for our dinner. At night I have three more: Josiah, Chenille, and Mohammad.”
“Quite an operation,” said Beck.
The others, meanwhile, hung around their table. No one took a seat. Cody’s son, Luke, and Jenny’s son Peter—both unnaturally formal in white shirts and ties—wrestled together in an aimless, self-conscious way, tossing hidden glances at Beck. Probably these children saw him as a brand-new chance—a fresh start, someone to appreciate them at last. Yet when they finally sat down, no one chose a place near Beck. It was shyness, maybe. Even Ezra settled some distance away. Since Joe and the younger ones had still not arrived, this meant that Beck found himself flanked by several empty chairs. He didn’t seem to notice. Kinglike, he sat alone, folding his hands before his plate and beaming around at the others. A tracery of red veins, distinct as mapped rivers and tributaries, showed in his cheeks. “So,” he said. “My son owns a fancy restaurant.”
Ezra looked pleased and embarrassed.
“And my daughter’s a doctor,” said Beck. “But Cody? What about you?”
Cody said, “Why, you know: I’m an efficiency consultant.”
“A, how’s that?”
Cody didn’t answer. Ezra said, “He checks out factories. He tells them how to do things more efficiently.”
“Ah! A time-study man.”
“He’s one of the very best,” said Ezra. “He’s always getting written up in articles.”
“Is that so. Well, I sure am proud of you, son.”
Cody had a sudden intimation that tomorrow, it would be more than he could manage to drag himself off to work. His success had finally filled its purpose. Was this all he had been striving for—this one brief moment of respect flitting across his father’s face?
“I often wondered about you, Cody,” Beck said, leaning toward him. “I often thought about you after I went away.”
“Oh?” said Cody, politely. “Have you been away?”
His father sat back.
“Any how,” Ezra said. He cleared his throat. “Well. Dad. Are you still working for the Tanner Corporation?”
“No, no, I’m retired. Retired in sixty-five. They gave me a wonderful banquet and a sterling silver pen-and-pencil set. Forty-two years of service I put in.”
Ruth murmured—an admiring, womanly sound. He turned to her and said, “To tell you the truth, I kind of miss it. Miss the contacts, miss the life … A salesman’s life has a lot of action, know what I mean? Lot of activity. Oftentimes now it doesn’t seem there’s quite enough to keep me busy. But I do a bit of socializing, cardplaying. Got a few buddies at my hotel. Got a lady friend I see.” He peeked around at the others from under his tufted eyebrows. “I bet you think I’m too old for such things,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking! But this is a really fine lady; she puts a lot of stock in me. And you understand I mean no disrespect to your mother, but now that she’s gone and I’m free to remarry …”
Somehow, it had never occurred to Cody that his parents were still married. Jenny and Ezra, too, blinked and drew back slightly.
“Only trouble is this lady’s daughter,” Beck told them. “She’s got this daughter, no-good daughter, thirty-five years old if she’s a day but still residing at home. Eustacia Lee. No good whatsoever. Lost two fingers in a drill press years ago and never worked since, spent her compensation money on a snowmobile. I’m not too sure I want to live with her.”
No one seemed able to think of any comment.
Then Joe arrived. He burst through the door, traveling in an envelope of fresh-smelling air, carrying the baby and towing a whole