JC: Harry and Silva
Chapter 3
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

The office was crowded with happy people celebrating 
Thanksgiving, even though it was the day before the national 
holiday. The tables were filled with turkey-shaped carrot cakes, 
pumpkin pies, and soft drinks.  There was no alcohol for this 
crowd, too many of them had problems with it. 

Silvia moved comfortably through the crowd of people, smiling 
and talking to people as they ate. This was a little party that Silvia 
had thrown for the people that worked under her. After three years 
at the Fusion Foundation while taking management courses four 
nights a week, she had been promoted to a supervisor. That she had 
been promoted had amazed her, but the work came naturally. She 
guessed that years of dealing with troublesome johns had hardened 
her to excuses, but her livelihood as a whore kept her from being 
judgmental.

She stopped by the table with food and dipped a celery stick in a 
bowl of dip before munching on it. Her former officemate rolled in 
the room followed by her grinning husband. Based on his grin, 
there was no doubt that they had been having a little fun in the 
elevator. Shaking her head at their antics, Silvia waved and walked 
over to her friends greeting them, "I'm so glad that you could make 
it."

Carla smiled as she looked around at all the people in the room, 
recognizing most of them. Since she had transferred out of the 
office, she didn't get a chance to see these people that often. She 
replied, "I wouldn't miss your first party for the world."

Winking at her, Jim teased, "This sex-crazed hussy figured it 
would be easier to leave early from here for a quickie than to go 
from our office."

Silvia laughed at the joke, knowing that was probably true. They 
were the most sexually active couple that she had ever 
encountered. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, "I'd borrow 
you some day, but I know that she keeps you worn out."

The giggle that arose from Carla was contagious. It pleased her to 
know that Silvia understood her drives and didn't think less of her. 
There were times when she wanted to sit back and roar, "I'm a 
sexually active lady!" Of course, that wasn't something that one 
could do at a party.

As Silvia laughed with her young friend, Tim spun around his 
wheelchair looking at the people gathered in the room. There were 
a few new faces in the crowd and some old ones were gone. That 
was normal in the Fusion Foundation. Most people joined the 
organization to recover from a failure and then would move on to 
bigger and better things. A very few people, like Silvia, Carla, and 
himself, found the Fusion Foundation to be home. 

Silvia's assistant came over looking rather uneasy. Licking his lips, 
he said, "Ms. Black, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor in 
your office."

The serious look on his face conveyed a sense of concern, as if 
something was wrong. She frowned, knowing that he had a 
tendency to exaggerate situations, and replied, "Okay. I'll be right 
there."

He nodded as he backed away. Pausing, to see if she was leaving 
and finding that she wasn't, he prompted, "I think he's a pretty 
important person." 

Silvia wondered about his characterization of the visitor as an 
important person. The only important person that came to this area 
was her supervisor. She said, "I guess I had better check it out. I'll 
be right back."

Jim, looking over at Carla, joked, "I'll see how long I can keep her 
here before she is overwhelmed by her urges."

Silvia left the room as Carla answered, "Now. I need you now."

She hoped that it wouldn't take long to deal with whatever problem 
had come up. Carla and Tim were in rare form today. With brisk 
steps, she walked down the hall towards her office while 
wondering about the identity of the unexpected visitor. She didn't 
need to enter her office to know who it was. The simple song 
coming down the hallway told her everything that she needed to 
know. Excited, she ran down the hall as she screamed, "Harry!"

Harry turned and, with a large smile, said, "Ah, it's my dark 
beauty. You're looking better than ever."

Unable to resist the urge, Silvia rushed over to him and hugged 
him as though her life depended on it. His return hug was warm 
and friendly bringing tears of happiness to her eyes. It was hard to 
believe that the last time she had seen him was when he had taken 
her to the hospital three years ago. 

It was so good to see him, particularly on this day. She said, "I'm 
having my first party as a supervisor today. You have to come in 
and enjoy the food."

"I will, but first a little business," replied Happy Harry with an 
apologetic gesture. "I need a favor."

"Anything you want. What do you need, Harry?" It amazed and 
pleased her that she was in a position to help him. She would give 
her life to help him if that was necessary. The past few years had 
been the best of her life and she owed it all to him.

"I have a young woman that was hurt and needs a place to heal for 
a while. I was wondering if she could work here with you," said 
Harry.

"You got it," replied Silvia ready to drop everything to help him. 
"Is she here?"

"She's in the hospital up in St. Louis for another week. She is in 
pretty bad shape, but she's getting better. I'll send her here to 
Atlanta when they release her," he answered. It was clear to her 
that the woman was not in good shape from the way he spoke 
about it. With a worried look on his face, he explained the 
situation. "She was thrown out of a car and run over. She had 
major damage to her hips and legs."

She felt terrible. The mention of her hometown brought back 
memories of her former occupation and its aftermath. Those 
memories had not haunted her in ages and had no power over her 
now. The horrible thing that had happened to the woman bothered 
her. She asked, "What's her name?"

"Crystal," answered Harry. Like a lot of women that worked on the 
street, she didn't use a last name. 

Silvia wondered if it was the Crystal that she knew, but didn't 
pursue the question. There were a lot of girls that went by the name 
of Crystal and only a few of them were whores. Even if she knew 
this particular girl, it didn't matter. After all, who was she to look 
down on anyone? She had never allowed herself such pretensions.

She wrote a note on her desk to remind her to set up a room, make 
arrangements for a nurses aides, and an interview to see what kind 
of job would be good for her. She'd have to check her budgets to 
make sure that she didn't go overboard. She said, "I'll have a room 
set aside for her and start her training when she's ready."

"I knew I could count on you," replied Harry sounding very 
relieved. Clapping his hands, he said, "You mentioned something 
about a party."

She grinned and answered, "Yes I did. Come on, Harry."

Wrapping her arm through his, she led him out of her office and 
towards the room where the party was being held. A huge smile of 
pleasure was plastered on her face as she walked beside the Druid. 
He patted her hand and, with a sly voice, said, "You make an old 
man very happy."

"Why?" Silvia asked surprised by his statement and reference to 
himself as an old man. She knew a lot of men half his age that 
were twice as old. 

"How many homeless Hobos my age can get such a beautiful 
woman to walk around on his arm?" He tried to look lecherous 
without much success. 

He was just too cute to consider a lecher and the idea caused her to 
laugh at him. She started to sing, "We're off to see the Wizard…"

By the time they reached the door to the party, they were dancing 
as they both sang the song. It was a hard act to maintain since she 
kept breaking up in laughter. Harry asked, "So which one am I? 
The tin man, the cowardly lion, or the scarecrow?"

"None of them. You're heart is huge, you are brave, and you're the 
wisest man alive. That's just my traveling song," she answered 
remembering the day long ago when she picked it out for that 
purpose. She had sung that song through the entire movie and for 
days afterwards, amazed that she had never heard it before. 

"It's a good one. Adds a little bounce to the step," he replied with a 
smile.

"We're here," she said hardly able to wait for them to enter the 
room. She wanted to see Carla's reaction to his presence.

"Give me a minute to get dignified. After all, I am a Druid," said 
Harry as he pretended to straighten a tie. She laughed as he lifted a 
foot and rubbed the top of the shoe against the back of his robe to 
polish it. 

When he started brushing his teeth with his finger, she couldn't 
help herself and cried, "You're killing me."

Harry entered the room walking beside Silvia in a manner slightly 
reminiscent of Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame. Looking around, 
he noticed Carla and Tim over by the food. A huge grin crossed his 
face as he recognized the woman in the wheelchair and saw how 
she was feeding Tim a bite of pie. That was love if he had ever 
seen it.

Holding his staff up in the air, he approached them. Before Carla 
had a chance to see him, he stepped forward and bowed. Tim 
looked puzzled at the odd man in front of him. The unexpected 
action attracted the attention of everyone in the room except for 
Carla. In a voice that carried across the room, he said, "Lords and 
Ladies. I, Happy Harry, have come far to present myself to the 
King and Queen of the Ball! Long live the King. Long live the 
Queen." 

Carla, with practiced ease, spun her wheelchair around in place and 
stared at Harry for a half a second. Everyone else in the room, with 
the exception of Silvia, tensed up expecting a scene. A huge smile 
crossed her face and her arms flew out to reach for him, as she 
screamed, "Harry!"

Straightening up, Harry stepped over to her and swept her into a 
hug. The wheelchair made it awkward, but neither one seemed to 
mind. Seeing the happy reaction of Carla, everyone realized that it 
was an old friend greeting an old friend. The tension in the room 
dissipated as she grabbed his hands and kissed them in her 
excitement. 

Tim was staring at Harry with a funny look on his face, as though 
he didn't know how to react. When Carla finally let go of his hand, 
Tim rolled forward and grabbed Harry's hand with both of his. In a 
tone of admiration, he said, "Thank God I finally got a chance to 
thank you for everything you've done for me."

Surprised by the reception, Harry replied, "I did nothing."

"Nothing? You did everything," asserted Tim. The day that Harry 
had visited Carla had awakened the woman within her. He was the 
lucky beneficiary of that awakening. She had come to him right 
after talking to Harry and declared that it was possible for people 
in wheelchairs to make love. After years of being ignored as 
something not quite a man, her declaration had awakened his 
urges. He looked down and said, "You gave us both life."

"I think that you discovered that yourselves, I was just an excuse," 
replied Harry looking down at the man in the wheelchair with a 
modest smile. Preferring not to look down on people, he dropped 
down and sat tailor fashion on the floor. Laying his staff on the 
ground beside him, he noticed their ring fingers and said, "I take it 
you are married."

"Yes, we are," cooed Carla as she grabbed her husband's hand. She 
asked, "How about you?"

Harry held his arms out to his sides in a gesture of surrender as he 
said, "Happy Harry is a rolling stone. He dillies here and dallies 
there, then goes merrily on his way leaving behind a happy 
woman."

Silvia listened to the exchange wishing that he would want to dilly 
or even dally with her. The past few years of being around Carla 
and Tim had re-awaked desires within her that she thought were 
non-existent. It was amazing how much pleasure those two got 
from each other. 

Carla frowned and said, "That sounds lonely."

"Lonely? Nay! I love all women too much to select one and all 
women are too smart to roam the world with me."

As much as Silvia loved him, she knew that what he had said was 
true. Loving Harry was like watching a rainbow. You had to enjoy 
it while it lasted and cherish the memory for the rest of your life. 
She could accept that and knew that a lot of women would accept 
it as well.

"What about making love?" asked Carla thinking that his lifestyle 
prevented him from doing that. 

"If that is an offer, I'll have to talk to Tim before I say yes," 
answered Harry with a grin at her and a wink at Tim. He rubbed 
his hands together as if excited about the possibility.

Carla blushed as she realized how what she had asked could be 
interpreted. Her embarrassment was made worse when Tim 
quipped, "Please! I need the rest. She's relentless. She's an animal. 
She's insatiable."

She hit Tim on the shoulder as she said, "Speaking of which, you 
should be well rested by now."

Tim gave forth a fake groan as Harry laughed at her comment. 
Leaning over to Tim, the Druid whispered, "The Gods and 
Goddesses love randy women. You're a lucky man to have found 
one so blessed."

"I know," replied Tim with a grin. He looked over at Carla and saw 
that she was making eyes at him. Expecting her to want to visit 
with Harry, he asked, "You ready to go?"

"You know it Studley," she answered with a smile. Looking over 
at Harry, she said, "It's so good to see you again, Harry. You really 
have no idea what you did for me. I'd really like to thank you 
properly, but here and now is not the time. Since tomorrow is 
Thanksgiving, could you come over for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, but I have twenty turkeys to cook tonight and deliver 
tomorrow," replied Harry as he stood to let them leave. He held his 
staff and leaned against it as he added, "I hope you understand."

"Of course," answered Carla, not knowing much more about Harry 
than her single experience with him. 

"Where are you delivering the turkeys?" Silvia was curious to 
know. If he had just come down from St. Louis, then it was 
possible he expected to go back there that night.

"Here in Atlanta," replied Harry. 

"Can I help cook them?" asked Silvia not wanting her time with 
Harry to end. Perhaps while the turkeys were cooking, she could 
talk with him a little and try to thank him in a more intimate 
manner.

The hungry look in her eyes told Harry everything he needed to 
know about her motives. Harry smiled as a perfectly devious idea 
came to him. The smile, looking much more lecherous than the 
pitiful attempt earlier, sent a little twinge of hope through her 
spirit. With a half-bow, he said, "Sure. Come over to the Mess Hall 
around nine tonight."

Silvia entered the Mess Hall at nine sharp, not wanting to look too 
willing by showing up early or, just as bad, appear uninterested by 
being late. The room was large enough to hold five hundred 
people. Displacing the darkness was a small area of light showing 
through the doors from the kitchen. The light reflected off the 
clean floors, tabletops, and the metal parts of the chairs. The 
reflections allowed one to walk through the room without running 
into chairs or tables, but left plenty of dark corners. Although 
noises filtered from the kitchen, the emptiness of the room gave it 
an echo that fed her nervousness. 

Taking a breath, she walked across the room towards the door with 
slow measured steps. Her nervousness was not entirely imposed by 
the room, but by her fears for the evening as a whole. It had taken 
her almost an hour to pick out an outfit that she thought Harry 
might like. She wanted something that looked nice, but wasn't 
overdressed for cooking. She had settled on a simple dress that was 
tight in the right places, but not binding, and a pair of flat shoes.

The scrape of a chair leg against the floor startled her. Her eyes 
sought out the source of the noise in the dark corners of the room. 
For a moment, she thought a ghost had floated out of a dark spot 
and her heart raced as a result. A weird elongated white figure 
appeared to rise from the floor to float in the air. She almost 
screamed until she realized that it was a black man dressed in a 
white Chef's outfit. Recovering her senses, she called out, "Where's 
Harry?"

"The bum's not here." The reply had two effects on her. It bothered 
her that the man referred to Harry as a bum. The deep voice, 
reminiscent of a Barry White, took her breath away.

Sounding more aggressive and threatening than intended, she 
answered, "Don't call Harry a bum."

"Hmm, you must be Silvia. He said you would come to help cook," 
replied the voice.

She couldn't see his features because of the dark and the distance, 
but she could see that he was about four inches taller than she was. 
His tailored uniform showed off his broad shoulders and narrow 
stomach. All of that paled beside his incredible voice. She walked 
towards him to see better his features as she answered, "Yes, I'm 
Silvia. Who are you?"

"Cook," answered the man. He looked her over in the dim light of 
the room as she approached. She walked with a stride that 
indicated real self-confidence.

"I see you're a cook. What's your name?"

"Cook. I am what I do," replied the man. His deep resonant voice 
had taken on a harder edge to it.

"Oh," replied Silvia wondering what was the story behind this guy. 
She was close enough to make out his features. He had a broad 
open face with an immaculately trimmed Goatee. The tall Chef's 
hat covered his hair. All in all, he was too perfect. She knew there 
had to be something wrong with him.

"You don't look like you came to cook," commented Cook as he 
looked over her. In his opinion, she was the most attractive woman 
that had come to the kitchen in ages. Her upright posture spoke of 
a positive self-image. She looked too good to be true. There had to 
be something wrong with her to be there.

Although his statement was close to the truth, she denied it by 
saying, "I came here to cook."

"Looks to me like you came trolling for a man," commented the 
Chef. More than one woman had come through the kitchen with 
that idea in mind. Usually he was the target of their affections. As 
he turned towards the kitchen, he said, "I'm not interested."

Silvia laughed at his hubris. Sure he was handsome enough to kill 
for and had a voice that was sexy enough to die for, but she wasn't 
interested. She replied, "Don't flatter yourself."

He paused and looked over his shoulder, wondering who she was 
chasing. Raising an eyebrow, it dawned on him that she was 
interested in bedding Harry. For a fleeting moment, he was almost 
jealous. Turning back to the kitchen, he asked, "Are you coming?"

Deciding that Harry would show up sometime and she didn't want 
to miss him, she answered, "Yes."

Following the big man through the doors, she was initially 
overwhelmed by the appearance of the kitchen. Silver surfaces 
gleamed, the white floors were spotless, and everything was 
organized. He clapped his hands, producing a sharp sound that 
ripped through the room like the report of a pistol. Everyone else 
in the room stood up and turned to face him. Rubbing his hands 
together in anticipation, he said, "Listen up, everyone. We have 
twenty turkeys and all of the fixin's to prepare tonight. They have 
to be done by six in morning. That means we have a lot of work to 
do."

"Our food may be meant for the homeless, but that doesn't mean 
that we are going to skimp on quality. You will wash your hands 
every time you move from one task to another. I will be watching!"

Seeing that everyone was listening, he said, "I have the turkeys 
thawed over there. I want you, you, and you to clean them. Wash 
them thoroughly inside and out. Remove all traces of feathers and 
internal organs. I want the giblets set over to the side for making 
gravy. When you are done with each one, raise your hand and I 
will inspect it."

The three people that he had pointed at nodded their heads and 
immediately turned to perform their assigned tasks. Silvia was 
impressed with the authority that he brought to his work. He 
continued, "You, you, and you will start cleaning the celery and 
onions that are in those bins over there. All of them, not just some 
of them. Once you are done, you will take them over to the grinder 
and grind them on setting four."

The individuals that he had identified turned to their tasks. 
Continuing his orders, he said, "Over in that oven is a lot of bread. 
I need it shredded into pieces no bigger than my thumbnail. You 
and you will pick apart the bread and put it into those four plastic 
tubs over there. Fill each tub half full. No more and no less."

One of the people that he had pointed out was Silvia. She shrugged 
and followed the other woman. The other woman stopped by a 
stand and grabbed an apron and a towel. After washing her hands, 
she tucked the towel into a loop on the apron. Silvia, feeling a little 
lost in the kitchen, followed the example set by the other woman.  
The woman said, "Cook is a stickler for cleanliness. Most of the 
people here will go through three aprons and twenty towels by 
morning."

Silvia followed the other woman to a massive oven to get the 
bread. The temperature inside was warm and a gentle moist heat 
billowed out when the door was opened. Silvia enjoyed the smell. 
The heat had dried the bread to a stale consistency. The quantity of 
bread in the oven was staggering. Staring at the other woman with 
a shocked look on her face, Silvia said, "This is going to take an 
hour or more."

"Most likely," answered the woman as she pulled out a tray full of 
stale bread. The temperature in the oven didn't require mitts to 
keep from getting burned. Silvia followed the actions of the other 
woman and carried the tray over to a worktable. 

After dropping off the tray, Silvia headed over to pick up two of 
the plastic tubs. She hadn't gone more than three steps when the 
other woman said, "Wash your hands."

Silvia was about to object that she was going to just be carrying a 
plastic tub, but the look on the other woman's face convinced her 
that arguing wouldn't do any good. As she went to the sink, she 
glanced over her shoulder and saw that Cook had positioned 
himself in the center of the room. Legs spread shoulder wide and 
arms crossed, he was watching everything that was going on in the 
room like a road gang guard. As she dried her hands, she thought, 
'He's good at running a work crew.'

Seated at the worktable, Silvia finally started picking the bread 
apart. It was the kind of mindless repetitive task that called for a 
song to ease the boredom and make the time go by. Not knowing a 
proper song for such a job, she started singing while making up the 
words as she worked. She didn't notice that her co-worker had 
started humming along. 

It was a little less than forty minutes later that the two women 
finished with the bread that was in the oven. The four plastic tubs 
were each filled as he had directed, half-full - no more and no less. 
When she turned from the sink, she found Cook standing beside 
her with an odd expression on his face. He said, "You've got a 
twenty minute break. Get some coffee, go to the bathroom, stretch, 
or do whatever you want. When you leave the kitchen, remove 
your apron and get a new one when you come back."

"I'm ready for the next task," replied Silvia thinking that taking a 
break after less than an hour of work was a waste. She began to 
think that maybe he wasn't that competent.

"The others are not," said Cook as he turned and walked away. He 
paused by the bins of bread wondering how she had managed to set 
a pace that led them to finish fifteen minutes early. It must have 
been the singing and his opinion of her went up a little. To himself, 
he thought, 'She must really have a big problem if she's here.'

Her co-worker commented, "We must have really finished early. 
He's never given a break this early."

"Right," scoffed Silvia, "he's trying to take it easy on me."

"By the way, I'm Cathy."

Silvia looked over at her co-worker. The woman was rail-thin and 
had a slightly haunted looked in her eyes. It was hard to tell if she 
was a former drug addict, had an eating disorder, or had been ill. 
She replied, "I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. I'm 
Silvia."

Cathy, unsure what to say, grabbed a Styrofoam cup and pretended 
to be busy fixing a cup of coffee. Having seen the same kind of 
behavior among other people in the Fusion Foundation, Silvia 
pretended not to notice the unease of the other woman. She took a 
cup of coffee and followed her out of the kitchen. They sat at a 
table in the Mess Hall sipping their coffee, each thinking their own 
thoughts. Silvia wondered when Harry would show up and if she 
would actually get a chance to spend some time with him. She had 
not realized that cooking twenty turkeys was such a mammoth task 
that required so many people. 

When the break was over, she returned to the kitchen to receive her 
orders. Her heart sank when she found out that she was going to be 
peeling potatoes. Rather than complain, she dressed, washed her 
hands, and took her seat waiting for the first tub of washed 
potatoes to appear in front of her. It was a production line, with 
two people washing potatoes, four people peeling, and one 
chopping them into the appropriate size for cooking. Once a tub of 
clean potatoes were delivered in front of her, she started peeling. 

After the third potato, she knew this task required a song. Even as 
she had that thought, she recalled how Harry had told she needed 
to find a song for every situation. For the next few potatoes, she 
mentally sorted through the songs that she knew trying to find one 
that would fit the task. Finally, she selected a tune that had a nice 
rhythm and started singing. 

The time passed as she worked and sang. In a way, this was much 
more relaxing than she would have predicted. It was nice to work 
without the responsibility of managing people or worrying about 
getting the job done on time. Her mind went on autopilot. It came 
as a surprise to her when she reached for another potato and found 
that there wasn't one. She looked around the table and noticed that 
everyone else was finished.  

Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were wrinkled from 
being wet. Looking up from her hands, she noticed that everyone 
else at the table was looking at someone behind her. She started 
when Cook said, "After cleaning off the table, you have a forty-
five minute break. I suggest that you go outside and move around. 
Play on the swings or something to let your muscles relax."

Outside, Silvia settled on a bench near the playground watching as 
some of the other people were playing on the swings. She smiled 
as the adults played, allowing some of the problems of the past 
drop away for a little time. Cathy came over and sat down on the 
bench next to her. After about fifteen minutes, she said, "He's 
never given us this long of a break before."
 
Silvia took a sip of her coffee and thought about it. Either he was 
incompetent in scheduling his activities or he was trying to impress 
her. She replied, "I think he knows that I'm a friend of Harry and 
wants to make a good impression by treating me well."

Cathy frowned at the assessment of the elegant black woman 
sitting next to her. She didn't know who Harry was and didn't care 
to know. She had worked with Cook for almost six months and 
knew that he didn't care about impressing anyone. He was a hard 
boss, but if you did your job the way that he told you to do it, then 
he treated you well. She asked, "Did you see the look on his face 
when he gave us the break?"

"No. He was standing behind me," answered Silvia. 

"Oh," replied Cathy. She looked down at her cup, took a sip, and 
then said, "Excuse me. I have to potty."

Silvia watched the woman walk away wondering about her past. 
Shrugging her shoulder, she glanced at her watch discovering that 
it was a quarter to one. She had another fifteen minutes to her 
break and looked at her warm coffee. She finished it off and threw 
the cup into the trashcan by the bench. Thinking about Cathy, she 
headed to the bathroom deciding that relieving her bladder before 
going back to work was a good idea. 

It was about three in the morning when she finished peeling the 
last sweet potato. Unused to that kind of work, her hands looked 
horrible. She was going to have to work on her nails before going 
over to Carla and Tim's house for Thanksgiving Dinner. She 
looked around and saw that Harry had not shown up yet. The 
thought depressed her since she knew that she would look horrible 
by the time he showed. Even her voice was a little cracked from 
singing so much. Next break, she would try to fix her face up a 
little in the woman's room.

The others around the table stood up and looked around for Cook. 
Normally, he would be right there as soon as they finished a task. 
The other group was taking a break while the turkeys roasted in the 
oven. Nervous, Cathy said, "Something is wrong."

As the rest of the group at the table nodded in agreement, Silvia 
asked, "Why?"

Normally, the other group would be coming back from their break 
after making the additional stuffing about the time they finished 
peeling the sweet potatoes. While her group would go on break, 
the cooks would start boiling the sweet potatoes. "The others 
should have finished putting the stuffing in the oven before taking 
their break. They haven't even started it yet. Then they have to boil 
the sweet potatoes for the other side dish." 

"So?"

"Cook should be all over them for being behind schedule. They 
still have to make the pies. It's going to take them at least two 
hours to finish up," answered Cathy.

"Where is Cook?"

"That's what's wrong. He's not here," replied one of the other 
people. 

Silvia realized that she was the most senior person in the room and 
that it was necessary for her to take control. Frowning at the idea 
that another supervisor was shirking his duty, she stood up to take 
charge. Turning to Cathy, she said, "Cathy, why don't you lead the 
others in cleaning off the table while I find Cook?"

Cathy, embarrassed at being singled out, nodded with a timid look. 
It was the most responsibility that she had been given since starting 
work here. In a soft voice, she said, "Okay."

Giving a reassuring smile to the frightened woman, Silvia said, "I 
know you can handle it."

She watched the woman sit up a little straighter. Turning, she went 
into the dining room thinking that Cook was probably drinking a 
cup of coffee. Instead, of finding him drinking coffee, he was 
sitting in a chair with his head resting on his crossed arms on the 
table taking a nap. Supervisors were not supposed to be taking 
naps on the job, as many of the people working for them were 
emotionally weak. In a commanding voice, she said, "Wake up!"

Cook sat up straight and spun around in surprise. He knew his 
alarm had not gone off and wondered what might be the problem. 
This was the slow time and when he had scheduled his hour-long 
power nap. The turkeys were cooking and the sweet potatoes were 
getting peeled. Nothing would need his attention for an hour and it 
was his one chance to get some rest until noon. He asked, "What's 
the matter?"

"I was told that everything is behind schedule. Now I don't know 
how you run this show, but you are supposed to be supervising 
these people. Get to work." The scorn in her voice was obvious.

Shocked at the dressing down he was receiving from the woman, 
Cook stood up and faced her. It was only then that he realized that 
she was a supervisor. He looked at his watch and saw that he still 
had thirty minutes before his nap was supposed to end. Confused, 
he asked, "What are you talking about? We don't start the dressing 
for another thirty minutes."

"Well, we finished peeling the sweet potatoes."

"No you didn't. You couldn't have done that. It will take you at 
least another half an hour," replied Cook turning and striding into 
the kitchen. He stopped and looked around at the group sitting at 
the table. The table was spotless and all of the sweet potatoes were 
peeled. The other tasks that he had assigned them had been 
completed. He was careful not to react to what he had seen. 

Silvia stood at the door and watched his reaction. At least he didn't 
act as if he had lost control of the situation in front of the people 
that worked for him. He glanced back at her and then said, "Sorry 
about that, I had a call of nature. Please take a thirty minute break 
and return here."

After everyone else left to take their break, Cook turned to Silvia 
deciding that it was time to set her straight and put her in her place. 
He said, "I'm very impressed, but you should have told me you 
were a supervisor."

"I'm not impressed," replied Silvia feeling a twinge of guilt at the 
fact that his charge that she should have told him that she was a 
supervisor was true. He could have put her in charge for a few 
minutes without any problems. Raising her voice to make her 
point, "You were absent from duty."

Shaking his head in disagreement of her assessment, Cook 
defended himself with a little more energy than intended. "I've 
been doing this for five years and my schedule has been correct 
that entire time. One night with you here, you manage to get my 
people to work at a much faster pace than ever before. You really 
should have told me you were a supervisor."

"You still haven't answered my charges of absent from duty. 
You're job is to supervise the people," replied Silvia wanting to 
deflect his charges. It irritated her that he was shirking his 
responsibilities.

Cook picked up a Styrofoam cup and filled it with coffee. Taking a 
sip, he answered, "I'm sure that you are aware that during long 
term duties that last over twelve hours, that a supervisor may take 
one hour naps during scheduled slow times. I have been on duty 
since six in the morning, yesterday. That was the second of my two 
scheduled naps."

His statement made the fact that she hadn't announced her position 
even worse. She could have relieved him for a while without any 
problems. Of course, she wasn't here to work for him. She had 
come for Harry. She challenged, "When do you get off duty?"

"At noon," replied Cook. The thought flashed through his mind 
that he'd like to connect with this attractive, confident, and capable 
woman. He shook his head trying to get the thought out of his 
mind.

Frowning as she decided that she had been unfair in her assessment 
of him, she realized that he was probably much more competent 
than she had given him credit. His control after so many hours was 
rather remarkable. She said, "Get back to your nap."

"Thanks to you, I've got to rework the schedule," replied Cook. He 
hated to do that, but she had made it necessary. Of course, he 
should have known when her group had finished everyone of their 
tasks in record time. He should have taken that into account and 
reworked the schedule. With her working there, it made predicting 
the time required to do some tasks much more difficult. 

She put her arms on her hips and looked at him in irritation. It was 
true that she should have told him that she was a supervisor. He 
was handsome, capable, competent, controlled, and had a voice to 
die for. As a result, she found herself attracted to him despite 
herself, but she wasn't ready for a real relationship. Sharper than 
intended, she said, "Don't blame me for your problems."

She was attractive, capable, competent, controlled, and intelligent. 
As a result, he found himself attracted to her despite himself, but 
he wasn't ready for a real relationship. Anger flaring, he replied, 
"Don't blame me that you aren't working to support a supervisor as 
you are required."

The sound of hands clapping rang through the room, startling them 
both. They turned to find the source of the noise. Both were 
embarrassed that they had lost control over themselves. Happy 
Harry, with a huge smile on his face, said, "You already argue like 
a married couple. So when are you going out on your first date?"


