Mcnally's Secret
“Then my father departed for the office in his Lexus, mother scampered into the greenhouse to bid a bright “Good morning!” to her begonias, and I moved to the kitchen to have a heart-to-heart with our cook-housekeeper.
“Ursi, luv,” I said, “I’ve contracted for a picnic today—a very special picnic for two. What would you suggest?”
She accepted my question as a serious challenge, as I knew she would, and inspected her refrigerator and the shelves of her cupboards.
“Lemon chicken,” she decided. “Ba...ked, then chilled. German potato salad. The greens should be arugula and radicchio. For dessert, maybe a handful of those chocolate macaroons your mother bought.”
“Sounds super to me,” I said. “I’m hungry already. Where’s our picnic hamper?”
“In the utility room,” she said. “And don’t forget a bottle of wine.”
“Fat chance,” I said.
I brought her the wicker picnic hamper that had been in our family since Year One and contained enough cutlery, accessories, and china to supply an orgy of eight.MoreLess
“Ursi, luv,” I said, “I’ve contracted for a picnic today—a very special picnic for two. What would you suggest?”
She accepted my question as a serious challenge, as I knew she would, and inspected her refrigerator and the shelves of her cupboards.
“Lemon chicken,” she decided. “Ba...ked, then chilled. German potato salad. The greens should be arugula and radicchio. For dessert, maybe a handful of those chocolate macaroons your mother bought.”
“Sounds super to me,” I said. “I’m hungry already. Where’s our picnic hamper?”
“In the utility room,” she said. “And don’t forget a bottle of wine.”
“Fat chance,” I said.
I brought her the wicker picnic hamper that had been in our family since Year One and contained enough cutlery, accessories, and china to supply an orgy of eight.MoreLess
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