Mildred Pierce - James M. Cain [34]
The showdown, next morning, was a little noisier than Mildred had expected. Mr. Chris said he had dealt with the Handy Baking Company for years, and wasn't going to change, and Ida said he'd been losing -customers for years too, and didn't have -sense enough to know it. And besides, Ida went on, here's a girl that -makes grand pies, and what was the matter, didn't he want customers? Mr. Chris said not to bother him, he was busy. Ida said look at the variety she's got, cherry, huckleberry, strawberry—
"No chilly, no hooklabilly, no strawbilly!" Mr. Chris fairly shouted his emphasis. "All a pieces fall down in a juice, waste half a pie, no good! Appliss, poomkin, limmon—no other kind, won't have'm."
At this Ida went into the dining room, beckoning Mildred after her. When they were alone she whispered excitedly: "You heard what he said? Apple, pumpkin, lemon—no other kind. That means he wants to switch, but he's too bullheaded to say so. Now listen, Mildred. Tomorrow you bring three pies, one apple, one pumpkin, one lemon. Just three, no more. A-nd I'll see that they're served. They're samples, but you've got to remember one thing: It's got to be his idea."
Ida put her head through the door and beckoned, and Anna came out. Anna, the girl with the sock, had been reinstated some time before. Ida pulled her into the huddle. "Listen, Anna, you heard what I said to him in there?"
"Ida, them pies are a disgrace, and—"
"O.K., then you do just like I say, and we'll get Mildred's pies in here, 'stead of them cow pies we got now. Anna, they're just wonderful. But you know how he is, so tomorrow, when I put out the samples Mildred's going to bring, you put the bee on him and say that's what he's been up to all along. Then he thought it up, and we break through his bullheadedness."
"Just leave it to Little Orphan Annie."
"And put it on thick."
"I'll take that -Greek like Grant took Richmond. Don't worry, Mildred. We'll sell your pies for you."
Mildred had a warm, wet-eyed feeling toward them both, and decided that Anna rated a free pie now and then, too. That afternoon she made the samples, and next morning Ida took charge of them herself, hurrying back to the kitchen with them like a spy carrying bombs. Changing into her uniform, Mildred was as nervous as an actress on opening night, and when she went into the kitchen there was expectancy in the air. Mr. Chris was at his desk, in the corner, and presently got up and went over to the out door. Here he posted, with a thumbtack, a piece of cardboard on which was written, in his Mediterranean handwriting the special order for the day:
Sell
Ham & S Potato
All gathered around and looked at it. Ida went over to the desk, picked up the blue pencil, came back to the door and added:
& Pie
One by one, the girls filed in the dining room.
Lunch had barely started when Mildred managed to sell two pieces. of pie. Mr. Rand, one of her regular customers, came in early with another man, and when she handed him the menu to pick out his dessert, she asked innocently: "Would you care for a piece of pie, Mr. Rand? The lemon is very good today."
Mr. Rand looked at his companion. "That just shows how much principle she's got. The pie stinks, she knows it stinks, and yet she says the lemon is very good today. Lay off the pie—unless you're really tired of this life, and prefer to be dead."
"We have a new line of pie today, Mr. Rand."
"Well—is it any good?"
"You try a piece. I think you'll like it."
The other man chose chocolate ice cream, and Mildred hurried to the kitchen to get the orders. As she came- back with both desserts and the coffee, her heart gave a leap as she heard a customer say: "That