Sunshine On His Own
Roy H. Williams
CHAPTER ONE – Green Pastures
The two men studied their menus in silence.
The waiter approached the table.
With an almost imperceptible movement, the fine gentleman shook his head no. The waiter walked away.
The younger man said, without looking up, “He died the very next day.”
“I know.”
They studied their menus some more.
The restaurant was a Victorian mansion built in 1895 in the countryside beyond Austin, Texas. That spot was now at the edge of downtown in the center of the city. Snow-white peacocks strutted beneath ancient oaks as they had done for more than a century. The room the two men had been given was once the parlor room of Mrs. Herndon, the wife of a minister. These walls were no strangers to confession.
Water glasses were refilled.
When that water was nearly gone, the gentleman raised a forefinger to shoulder height. The waiter reappeared. “We’ll have some purple coffee, Frank.”
His younger tablemate said, “Purple coffee?”
“That’s what the cognoscenti call red wine before noon.”
The waiter said, “Shall I bring you the list, Mr. Bard?”
“No,” smiled the gentleman, “You choose.”
The captain of the wait staff walked away.
The younger man said, “And the cognoscenti would be…?”
“The graduates of the class you’re about to take.”
“Does it have a meaning?”
“The class? Or the word?”
“The word. Cognoscenti.”
“It means, ‘People who know.'”
“Know what?”
The gentleman smiled, “That’s why you’re taking the class.
They finished the rest of the water.
The waiter presented a bottle across his palm, label up. “This was his favorite.”
The fine gentleman looked and nodded, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. “Very good, Frank.”
The waiter poured. The gentleman tasted and nodded.
The glasses were charged with wine.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said the waiter, “I will miss him, too.” A tear sparkled on his cheek as he quietly walked away.
The younger man spoke. “Asking him to arrange this lunch was one of the last things I ever said to him.”
“He called me after he dropped you at your house.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked if I had bought any stock that day.”
“Had you?”
“I had.”
“Did it involve a photograph of me not eating a marshmallow?”
“It did.”
The younger man lowered his eyes and shook his head. “It was several hours before I realized what he had done.”
The gentleman cleared his throat. “There are other things that remain to be realized yet.”
The younger man, Sunshine, slowly raised his glass. “To Poobah.”
The gentleman, Ray Bard, raised his. “To Poobah.”
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