Chapter 3

Darryl slept soundly that night. His overfull belly digesting and a comfortable bed, as opposed to that damn cot in the shelter, combined to put him into a deep sleep. In the morning, he thought he’d try on those clothes before breakfast. He tried on a pair of pants, and they were big on him. At least six inches in the waist. There were three more pairs of pants, all just as big on him. The shirts were baggy on him, too. He had one change of clothes that he brought with him, so he put those on. He didn’t want Mona to see him wearing the same clothes two days in a row. After today, he’d have to figure something out.

At eight he went to the main house and when he opened the door enticing breakfast smells hit him. He walked into the kitchen and Mona was just finishing cooking scrambled eggs. “Good morning, Darryl. Everything is in the dining room. I’ll bring the eggs.” Darryl went to the dining room and saw a spread that rivaled the previous night’s dinner. Piles of bacon, sausage, hash browns and pancakes. Plus orange juice, butter and syrup. Mona brought the eggs and they dug in. Darryl wasn’t surprised to find that everything tasted wonderful. He quickly cleaned his plate, and just as quickly, Mona refilled it with huge portions. Darryl didn’t protest, since he learned the previous night that there was no turning down seconds from Mona. Besides, everything was really, really, good.

“You keep this up and that weight I lost will be back in no time,” he grinned. “You said you’re down to 140, what do you normally weigh?” Mona asked. “Usually about 165 or 170.” “Well then,” Mona answered, “we should get you back to your usual weight.” Mona hoped that she didn’t have a grin on her face. Putting 25 or 30 pounds on a man was exciting, but she had no intention of stopping there. Not by a long shot.

The maid had arrived, a plump and pretty girl named Maria. Mona introduced them and Maria went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from the feast the night before. Darryl helped carry the plates from the morning’s feast into the kitchen so Maria could clean them up, too. “I’ll clean the pool up and make sure the chemicals are balanced,” Darryl said. “Then I’ll see what shrubbery needs attention.” Mona answered, “Thank you, Darryl. Oh, and lunch is at noon.” He could only imagine how big lunch would be.

He started with the pool. It had a few touches of algae, so he brushed the sides thoroughly, filled the chlorine dispenser and threw in some shock. That only took an hour, so he trimmed shrubs for an hour or so. It still wasn’t noon, so he went to his room and lay down. He thought about Mona some. She said that she loved to cook, and what he had seen so far confirmed that. But she also liked to see her cooking enjoyed. Did that mean that anybody that sat at her table got generous second helpings? Or was she lavishing attention on Darryl? It didn’t seem likely that she was interested in Darryl. She had picked him out almost at random in a homeless shelter. Rich, beautiful women just didn’t pick up broke guys, no matter how appealing that fantasy might be. He wondered about her husband. He didn’t know her well enough to ask about him. How long had Mona been a widow? How had her husband died? Was Mona feeding him so well just because she had gone so long without a man to appreciate her cooking? Maybe, he thought.

Noon came and Darryl went to the house. In the kitchen, Mona was making Reuben sandwiches. Corned beef, swiss cheese and sauerkraut piled high on rye bread, and slathered with thousand island dressing. “I got the corned beef at a deli in town, but the sauerkraut and dressing are homemade,” Mona told him. No surprise there. Maria joined them for lunch. Along with the huge sandwiches, was potato salad and homemade potato chips. Maria could only eat half of her sandwich, and Mona couldn’t finish hers either. Darryl finished his, along with the potato salad and chips. “You must like my potato salad,” Mona said as she scooped another helping on Darryl’s plate. Once again, Darryl was full to bursting.

“I hope you like Italian, I’m making lasagna for dinner.” Of course she was, thought Darryl.