They still changed, but into what they thought would be clothes that would fit in with the theme of the restaurant, or at least the average customers. Beth wore a simple cream colored skirt and jacket, with an emerald green blouse, her hair up on top of her head, looking rather pretty. Gwen dug to the back of her chest of clothing and pulled out a soft blue dress that looked old fashioned to her, but that Bethany thought would work well. It didn't show much flesh, but so far none of the clothing here did. A bit of a shame, she thought, since now she had a body actually worth showing off.
James got them to the Vernors' giant house just in time, technically three minutes early, but not late, as she'd feared they would be. The Vernors met them at the door. Mr. Vernor held her hand in both of his once the door closed behind them.
“So good to see you. After today, well yesterday really, when things hit the news... we'd both been ready to pack everything and go live under that bridge you mentioned. Then, in an instant, you fixed everything!”
She shook her head.
“No, not everything. Not by a long shot. That's part of why we're here.”
Chapter sixteen
The large black carriage didn't move as fast as the smaller one she'd grown used to, giving them a long time to talk while they rode to the restaurant. The interior looked nice, polished wood trim, brass edgings, and black leather seats. Even the walls and ceiling were black padded leather. A small glow lamp provided the only light, because shades had been drawn on the windows, so people couldn't look in at them.
Both the Vernors seemed very impressed with her handling of the press, coming across as honest and playful, which would fit in with her old reputation as a party girl to the public.
“Now though,” Gwen looked at both of the older people in turn, “we need to solidify that I really know you, which of course, I don't. A really great present, not necessarily something expensive, since I'm working for a living, but something that fits you particularly well, something only family or close friends would know to get you, given or displayed in a special way, that should do it. I mean, we don't want to be over the top about it, because that would look phony, but something... I don't know, what would Katherine have really gotten you?”
She hoped that this question wasn't too blunt for them, or somehow rubbing salt in the wounds. Beth stiffened a little, meaning that she'd overstepped most likely, but the Vernors just seemed to consider the question.
Mrs. Vernor spoke first.
“Katherine? Probably nothing, to tell the truth. I don't really need anything, after all. I mainly work on my charity projects, I don't really collect anything. I do enjoy travel, but given the attack on you, that's going to be out for a while, unless you want to take a trip with me to recuperate? Other than that I don't know what to tell you. I'm happy that you're planning to come, but I don't think the press will catch on to that – that your showing up makes me happy – very easily.”
Charity work? That could be something, Gwen thought, sitting up she asked the older woman to expand on the idea.
“What? Oh, just my little projects. It's nothing. I helped organize a soup kitchen for those that have fallen on hard times last month and we try to help those without homes. Women in need of a place to stay, if their domestic arrangements fall through...” Leaning forward she whispered to the girls, “beaten by their husbands.”
Then she sat back up. Letting her hands rest in her lap for a moment before starting again.
“That's about it. It takes a surprising amount of time to get something like that set up. Everyone likes the idea, but no one wants to do the actual work. Your Father, Robert I mean, had to actually hire people to work the soup line for the week we had it up. We'll probably have to again during Yule week this year...”
“Ethyl worked the line herself for days, sometimes alone. I'm very proud of her, but it was a little sad as well, watching her work so hard, no one else willing to lend a hand...” Added Robert.
All this made Gwen nod and oddly Bethany too. After a few seconds Beth spoke.
“No one wants to work with those at the bottom. If you're too poor, too strange, or too ugly, you're just supposed to crawl away somewhere and not bother the proper people. Helping those in need comes dangerously close to that sort of person, since all those things often overlap.” Bethany looked at Gwen, her mind having already put together what she'd been thinking of.
“Would, I don't know if it would float with society types, but would my coming to help you run the soup line be a good present? Maybe with some small token or trinket to help you remember my promise of help later?” Asked Gwen.
Both of the older peoples' eyes lit up suddenly.
“That... would be perfect, dear! Oh...” Ethyl blotted at her face with a soft looking handkerchief.
Mr. Vernor sat up straighter and nodded at her. He tugged at the hem of his jacket a bit and smiled hugely, perhaps the most genuine smile she'd seen on the man so far.
“That would do it, especially if you're willing to back it up later... Most people will have forgotten by then, so even the promise would be good enough. Yes, I think I even have an idea for the trinket, if you trust me to have it wrapped for you? Yes... this will do nicely.”
They all chatted for a bit, until the lorrie pulled over into a gravel driveway, not a parking lot she saw, but an actual drive, like a house would have, circular though, so that you wouldn't have to back up to get out, since these vehicles didn't have a reverse function at all, as she'd discovered from James a few days back.
The outside of the restaurant looked just as rustic as promised by the sign, a genuine – or nearly genuine, being that it clearly sat on a cement foundation, not dirt – log cabin, one larger than most modern homes in her own world would have been, about four times as large as the little house she'd lived in for the last six years. It hit her then that she hadn't seen a lot of regular homes here yet. Apartments and palaces, well, one palace and one apartment, but no places a real family would live.
They were met at the door by a hostess, an older woman dressed like someone from little house on the prairie, except for the jewelry she wore around her neck and the large, very obvious ring on her finger signifying she was, if not married, at least taken. This was one of the first rings Gwen had seen on anyone like that, so maybe it meant something else here.
She led them to a large table, big enough for eight, that had hard wooden benches rather than chairs. The table itself seemed to be made out of split logs, flattened on top into a serviceable table. It reminded Gwen a bit of an old fashioned picnic table she'd seen at a park once as a child. Her parents had taken her as a special treat. The day had been ruined for her when some other children ran away from her crying, not understanding that she'd just wanted to play with them. She didn't blame the kids now, but it had been hard for her six-year-old self to understand.
They were left with actual menus instead of being told what would be available for each course, something that not even the tiny cafe near the Constabulary had done. This, Gwen figured, must be part of the charm of the place. Part of its theme.
“I recommend the steak and potatoes or the hamburg sandwiches, they have a selection of them. Not, well, not very ladylike food. But I like them...” Mr. Vernor tried not to smile as his wife made a face at the idea.
“I always have the sausage plate. It's... spicy, but if you can handle that, it's good. As a plus you can eat it with a knife and fork...” Her voice had gone slightly cold and her body posture had straightened a bit, but after about ten seconds she smiled suddenly and winked at Gwen.
“The hamburg sandwiches are good, I have him smuggle some home for me on occasion, but don't tell anyone.” This came across as a soft whisper, meant only for her, Gwen laughed a bit, covering her mouth with her hand, as she'd seen other women doing here.
This, even at a small theme restaurant that no one would have expected them to go to – she hoped – would still have to be part of her “Katherine” performance. She just hoped the Vernors would help her out, steering her toward what their real daughter would have actually done. Maybe that sausage plate hint had been their help. If nothing else came she'd just order that and hope it looked alright.
“Oh, I don't know, Ethyl,” Mr. Vernor glanced at the two other women with a mischievous grin. “The last time we came Katherine seemed to enjoy what I'd picked for her well enough...”
They both laughed, so she joined in, saying “Oh, Father!”
Then she hinted that he should tell the story to Bethany, mainly so that she'd be able to know what had been so funny.
The older man, who turned out to be a pretty good storyteller, told the tale as if it were some kind of epic. How they'd come to the place at his insistence and he'd ordered his daughter a hamburg sandwich, not realizing that the peppers, ones from the south called jalapeños, were as spicy as they turned out to be. The girl had sputtered and moaned comically, but managed to eat the whole thing, vowing that no mere sandwich would defeat her.
When their waitress arrived, a different woman, younger looking, but otherwise dressed a lot like the hostess had been without the jewelry, Gwen surprised them all by asking Mr. Vernor to order the same thing for her again. Mrs. Vernor blanched a bit, probably worried that the food would be too much and that she'd cause a scene. Gwen just smiled at her and winked.
They made small talk until the plates of food came, looking huge compared to the tiny portions served everywhere else, but still way smaller than what she'd have gotten at any fast food place back home, at least if the pictures on the television had been accurate. She'd never eaten at one herself and only a few times at real restaurants, mainly as a child. She looked at it carefully, seeing that it came with a small salad and fried potato disks rather than french-fries. She picked it up carefully and took a small, delicate bite.
The others waited for a reaction from her, as she put it down and chewed carefully, since everyone else seemed to do that all the time here.
“It's... good. Perhaps I just didn't get a bite of the peppers yet?”
They all started eating then, Bethany gently bumping her leg under the table with her own for some reason. It seemed to indicate something, but she didn't know what, so she wiped her mouth carefully, in case she had something on her face, looking at the woman. A casual wave of her fork, with a bit of sausage on it seemed to mean Gwen should look over to the left.
A large party sat there, watching them eat without even trying to hide what they did. Two of the six people she recognized from the press conference earlier, especially the blond woman that now wore a simple brown dress and jacket, with a small funny looking hat on her head, it made her look vaguely Asian, though her face looked as Caucasian as Gwen's.