You’re Going to Be a Beauty Someday
“You’re Going to Be a Beauty Someday”
Forrest was already up, standing at the stove with an apron over his tennis shorts, when I came downstairs the next morning.
“I hope you like pancakes,” he said. “Prudence does a great job of feeding us here, but nobody knows how to make flapjacks like I do.”
Prudence was the housekeeper, who showed up most mornings a little before lunch and stayed until dinnertime.
I knew her from past summers—a quiet woman who seemed to take in everything and said almost nothing about any of it.
I gathered she’d been working for Regina’s family long before Forrest came on the scene—since Regina was a child, probably—alongside Billy, the handyman, and a couple of gardeners who showed up several times a week to mow the lawns and tend to the hydrangeas.
Nobody else seemed to be up yet, so it was just Forrest and me sharing our breakfast at the counter.
“This is my favorite time of day,” he said. “Before all the action gets underway.” He set a plate in front of me with a tall stack of pancakes on it and passed me a pitcher of maple syrup.
As part of the self-improvement project I’d planned for that summer, I’d told myself I’d stay away from high calorie foods, but I made an exception that first morning.
Being around Forrest did this to a person.
He never seemed to feel the obligation to deny himself pleasure, not that this seemed to have had any ill effect on his body.
Now I poured a thick river of syrup over my pancakes.
“Glad to see someone around here has a healthy appetite,” Forrest said, as I reached for the butter.
No need to explain he was referring to Regina.
As for me, nobody would have called me overweight, but I hated the little roll of baby fat on my belly.
Nights in my bed, I ran my hand over the spot, searching for my ribs.
I took a bite of my pancakes, trying to chew as slowly as possible.
“You probably don’t know this yet,” Forrest said, “but you’re going to be a beauty someday.” Simple as his words were, I felt warmth come over me, as real as if I’d stepped out of the shade into a patch of sunlight.
We finished our breakfast. Still no sign of Regina. In the den, I could make out the sound of the television. The children were up. I started to clear away the dishes, but Forrest waved me away from the job.
“Prudence takes care of that,” he told me.
“I thought I’d bring you down to the club.
The kids take tennis lessons over there three days a week.
Then there’s sailing and golf practice. I can’t even keep all the things straight that Regina signs them up for.
Basically, all you need to do is drop them off and make sure nobody gets arrested. ”