"You can sit down," she said in a flat voice. "What kind?"
"Can you rustle up some chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce?"
She left the dining room and returned, saying, "Vanilla is all."
"That'll do, if you have chocolate sauce." He sat at a table near the kitchen to save the weary employee a long trek. To his surprise, another woman burst through the kitchen door, carrying his sundae. She was a husky woman of about forty, wearing a chef's hat (unstarched) and a large canvas apron (streaked with tomato sauce). She had the lean face and stony expression typical of island women, and she walked with a lumbering gait.
Plunking the dish down in front of the customer, she said, "I know you—from Pickax. You came into the Old Stone Mill to eat. I worked in the kitchen. Derek would come back and say, "He's here with his girlfriend." Or he'd say, "He's here with a strange woman, much younger." Then we'd peek through the kitchen door, and we'd put an extra slice of pork or turkey on your plate. We always had a doggie bag ready for you ... Eat your ice cream before it melts."
"Thank you," he said, plunging his spoon into the puddle of chocolate sauce.
"How come you didn't ask for hot fudge? I can cook some up if you want. I know you like it."
"This is fine," he said, "and it's late, and you must be tired."
"I'm not tired. When you have your own business, you don't get tired. Funny, isn't it?"
"You must be Harriet Beadle. I'm staying at the Domino Inn, and Lori told me you helped her find a carpenter when she was in trouble."
"Lori's nice. I like her ... Want some coffee?"
"I'll take a cup, if you'll have one with me."
Harriet sent her helper home, saying she'd finish the cleanup herself. Then she brought two cups of coffee and sat down, having removed her soiled apron and limp headgear. Her straight, colorless hair had been cut in the kitchen, Qwilleran guessed, with poultry shears and a mixing bowl. "I know you like it strong," she said. "This is island coffee. We don't make it like this for customers."
He could understand why; he winced at the first sip. "What brought you back to the island?"
"There's something about the island—always makes you want to come back. I always wanted to run my own restaurant and do all the cooking. Then Mr. Exbridge told me about this and told me how to go about it— borrow the money, buy secondhand kitchen equipment, and all that. He's a nice man. I s'pose you know him. What are you doing here? Writing for the paper?"
"If I can find anything to write about. Perhaps you could tell me something about island life."
-You bet I could!"
He placed his recorder on the table. "I'd like to tape our conversation. Don't pay any attention to it. Just talk."
"What about?"
"Breakfast Island when you were growing up."
"It was hard. No electricity. No bathrooms. No clocks. No phones. No money. We don't call it Breakfast Island over here. It's Providence Island."
"Who gave it that name?"
"The first settlers. A divine providence cast "em up on the beach after their ship was wrecked."
"You say you had no money. How did you live?"
"On fish. Wild rabbit. Goat's milk." She said it proudly.
"What about necessities like shoes and flour and ammunition for hunting rabbits?"
"They used traps, back then. Other things they needed, they got by trading on the mainland. They traded fish, mostly, and stuff that washed up on the beach. My pa built a boat with wood that washed up."
"Is he still living?" Qwilleran asked, thinking he might be one of the unsociable cab drivers.
"He drowned, trying to haul his nets before a storm." She said it without emotion.
"And your mother?"
"Ma's still here. Still using oil lamps. Never left the island—not even for a day. She'd just as soon go to the moon."
"But surely electricity is now available to islanders.
The resort has it. The summer estates have had it a long rime."
"Ay-uh, but a lot of people here can't afford it. A lot of "em still make their own medicines from wild plants. My ma remembers when there was no school. Now we have a one-room schoolhouse. I went through eight grades there—everybody in one room with one teacher." She said it boastfully.
"How did you arrange to go to high school?" "Stayed with a family on the mainland." "Did you have any trouble adapting to a different kind of school?"
"Ay-uh. Sure did. It was hard. I was ahead of the mainland kids in some things, the teachers said, but islanders were supposed to be dumb, and we got called all kinds of names."
"How did you feel about that?" Qwilleran asked sympathetically.
"Made me mad! Had to beat up on "em a coupla times." Harriet clenched a capable fist
