Chapter Nine
Dinner, as prophesied, was at eight o’clock. Muriel, at the head, with Lindsey to her left, sat at a candle-lit dining table that had been constructed for a dozen house guests. Carmel’s fried chicken was crisp and delicious; served up with roasted yams, boiled mashed peas fried with onions and spices, and salty deep-fried banana chips served with sweet ketchup. A plate of johnny cake was at Lindsey’s elbow. There was sliced mango for desert, smothered in rich cream and brandy. Lindsey embarrassed herself by asking for a second helping.
After, sipping rich Dominican coffee laced with scalded milk, Lindsey finally broached the topic: “If I am to help you,” she started in, wiping her lips on a linen napkin and wanting to get right to the heart of the matter, “I’ll need you to t
