When a Tourist Day Goes South

Posted on Tue 4th Jun, 2019 @ 4:59am by Anne da Silva

1,183 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Tivoli Gardens
Timeline: MD 1, 1700

"I'm really happy I found that set of antique reproductions of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. It will be perfect for Eric's birthday," Helena said as the door shut behind them, causing the bell to tinkle.

"I thought Eric's birthday was still six months away," Rebecca said, strolling down to the small dock at the edge of the riverwalk.

"Obviously, you don't ship things out across the quadrant. It's going to take almost that long for this to get to him. He's way on the other side of Alpha and likely to be there another two years, at least. I need six months to make sure he gets it," Nordstrom snorted. "UPS may have been around 400 years, but they are snail mail, as far as I'm concerned."

Beck leaned on the railing, her own bag of actual books hanging from her arm. She looked into the water, which was quite clear, because the river was well-engineered and part of the base water recycling system. Occasionally, she saw fish swimming by. "Aren't fish supposed to swim in schools?" she asked idly.

"Yes. Maybe. Don't ask me. I do only one thing," her friend and wingman answered.

Rebecca laughed and finished the saying, "and you do it very well. I was just curious. I never see a bunch of fish down there, just one at a time."

"And you spend a lot of time looking, do you?" Helena teased.

Beck straightened and said, "Point to you." She looked around, searching for something new she'd heard about somewhere near the village or the Riverwalk. "Where is that Shake 'n Slake place that's been sponsoring Caroline's Nightwatch program? Isn't it around here somewhere?"

Helena thought about it. "Deck 1552," she said. "Red and white shop-front. Has a picture of an oversized milk shake in a parfait glass on the front. You can't miss it."

"Well, okay then. I guess we jog up a couple of levels and look for it," Rebecca said. Since there was no way to actually jog up levels, Helena shook her head and led the way to the lift, which whisked them up instead.

It did take them a few minutes of wandering around the winter sports area to find it, but at least it was too early for an event at the stadium. Finally, Helena spied the sign and said, "See, told ya, milk shake in a parfait glass."

"Whatever that means," Beck teased her. "Let's check it out and see if it makes the keeper list. After you," she bowed and held the door open. They stood a few feet inside, looking around at huge booths, smaller ones, and round tables for four, plus seats at a bar. They looked at each other, Beck saying, "Small booth," at the same time Nordstrom said, "Little table."

"We are as in tune as ever," Helena said.

A red-haired woman wearing actual eyeglasses came over to them. She wore black pedal pushers and a pink button-down shirt. "Welcome to Shake and Slake! I'm Anne. May I help you ladies find a seat?"

"Sure," Rebecca said. "How about a nice ..." she glanced mischievously at her friend, "little table. And tell us what's good. By that, I mean, what you consider the very best meal you make."

"With a wickedly chocolate shake," Helena put in, as they followed the woman to a table in the area that was about half filled with customers, including a few parents with children. They were all having shakes or ice cream, and it looked wonderful to the warrant officer.

"Well, for me, that would be the grilled cheese sandwich, with a tomato salad and a side of fried okra," Anne said. "But I'm someone who would eat fried okra for breakfast, lunch, and supper if you let me. A lot of our guests like the Thanksgiving sandwich, which is roast turkey, cornbread dressing, jellied cranberry sauce, and a scoop of green bean casserole served as an open-faced sandwich on multi-grain bread, with gravy drizzled on top. As for a wickedly chocolate shake, I can do that."

"The Thanksgiving sandwich, minus the green bean thing and without gravy sounds good, actually," Beck said, thoughtfully, "though I like fried okra, too. I'm guessing you could add a side to anything we order?"

"Not for me," Helena said, making a gagging sound. "That's just wrong! But I seem to remember an ad that mentioned meatloaf? How do you fix that?"

"The sides are all a la carte, so you can order any of them with any entree," Anne said to Beck. She turned to Helena. "Our meatloaf is baked. You can order it as the usual ground beef, or we can make it vegetarian. It comes smothered in a brown gravy or a tomato-based gravy, whichever you prefer, and then you can order two sides with it; the same for the Thanksgiving sandwich. You can substitute a salad for one of the sides, if you like."

"Oh, meaty meatloaf, definitely, two sides of mashed potatoes, and no gravy, but a ton of real butter would be nice," Helena ordered gleefully.

"Two sides of mashed potatoes?" Rebecca asked. "Have you been carb depleted? You should really have some green leafy vegetables, you know."

"Okay, add a plain salad with a red wine vinaigrette, no bread crumbs and no cheese and no mushrooms, please," Helena added to her order. "How's that, Captain?"

Beck just sighed and shook her head. "Definitely add the side of okra. And a glass of cow's milk, please. Replicated is fine if you don't have the real thing."

Anne took out a PADD and began tapping her fingers on it rapidly as the two women spoke. "Let me read your orders back to you," she said and looked first at Rebecca. "So that's a Thanksgiving sandwich, no green beans, no gravy, a side of fried okra, and a glass of milk. And for you," she said with a nod to Helena, "that's meatloaf, no gravy, with double mashed potatoes, extra butter, one green salad, nothing good on it, with red wine dressing and a chocolate shake. Do you want the shake after your meal or with it, Ma'am?"

"Oh, with, definitely. Or even before. And water. Both of us need water." She raised a questioning eyebrow at Rebecca.

"I think that covers it," the other woman said. "If you have time for a break, we'd be pleased to have you chat with us with our meal. They don't let us out much, and you can probably tell why," Beck grinned.

"That's the wonderful thing about owning the place," Anne said, smiling. "I can flex my lunch hour--so I'd be delighted to join you. Your order is in to our cook. I'll just let them know I'm taking lunch and be back in a moment."

 

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