A New Foundation Rochelle Alers (read aloud .txt) 📖

clams he’d gotten from the supermarket’s fish department. He filled the shells with the mixture, sprinkled them with parsley and paprika and, after drizzling them with virgin olive oil, placed them in the hot oven until the tops were browned and the mixture bubbly. The Caesar salad with homemade dressing, warm buttered Italian bread and the delicious penne with ground sausage rounded out an incredible dinner, comparable to those served in restaurants.

She dabbed the corners of her mouth after swallowing a mouthful of sangria. “Who in the world taught you how to cook like this?”

“My mama.”

Sonja slumped back in her chair. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. My mother made breakfast, lunch and dinner for us Monday through Friday. On the weekends it was either brunch and a light dinner or we went out to restaurants. Brunch was always a family affair with everyone cooking what they wanted to eat. The menu included omelets, waffles, pancakes, bacon, sausage, ham and cheese grits. We had live-in help that cleaned and did laundry, but Mom insisted on cooking for her children. We accused her of being paranoid, afraid someone would poison her kids.”

“What did she say?”

“She completely ignored us. Mom had dozens of cookbooks and she planned her meals the same as she did her lesson plans. Each of us was assigned a week to watch and assist her preparing dinner. She was harder on her boys because she claimed she didn’t want us hooking up with the wrong woman just because she could cook, and we couldn’t.”

“I have to assume her cooking lessons were successful because you are an incredible cook.”

“Tariq and Patrick are even better than I am. They’ve mastered Asian and Middle Eastern cuisine. Joaquin and I are about equal, but it’s our baby sister who surprised and surpassed everyone. That’s why she’s a professional chef.”

“What about your father?”

“Dad was completely clueless in the kitchen. During the week, he usually got home too late to eat with the family, and that’s why he devoted the entire weekend to us. His office was in Manhattan and he was up and out of the house to take the early train into Penn Station. There were nights when he didn’t leave the office until late and had a car service on call to bring him home because a few times he’d overslept on the train and missed his stop. His edict to his employees was never to call him at home on weekends. That was his time for his family, and he couldn’t be bothered with what he called minutiae that could wait for Monday morning. He’d called it minutiae, but there were a few times he substituted an expletive when he thought we were out of earshot. My parents were very free thinkers and proud to be labeled liberals, and although not ultrareligious, we did attend church services. They would not allow cursing in their home. It wasn’t until I went to college that I was given a crash course in cuss words.”

Sonja laughed. “I forget you were homeschooled until you left for college. Did you have to wait until then to date?”

“No. Once I got my driver’s license, I hung out at the spots where many of the local high school kids gathered. Although many viewed me as an outsider I did manage to make a few friends.”

“If you had children, would you consider having them homeschooled?” Sonja asked.

“That would all depend on their mother. My mother was certified to teach grades K through twelve and was also a reading specialist. She’d converted the library into a one-room schoolhouse, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were packed with books she’d inherited from her mother and grandmother. During the school year, we rarely watched television or played video games because we spent most of our free time reading or hanging out in the game room putting together thousand-piece puzzles, competing with one another playing pool, Ping-Pong or teaming up for board games. Summers were spent outdoors playing tennis and basketball, and swimming.”

Sonja neatly folded her napkin and placed it next to her plate. Again, she envied Taylor and his siblings for their closeness. As the eldest, Taylor was seven years older than his youngest sibling, while her brother was ten years her senior. It wasn’t that she and her brother did not love each other. However, it was the difference in their ages that had made it difficult for them to share a lot of the same activities.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you that I went online to look up companies in Italy that manufacture the windows you need to replace the ones in the château. I’ve also compiled a listing of Vermont quarries for the roof tiles. I’ll send both to your email.”

“I need to order two hundred forty-two windows. If we’re not able to get them from Italy in time to install them before the winter, then they will be replaced with custom-made duplicates. What I will need from you is the name or names of faux bois specialists to restore the walls and moldings.”

Sonja nodded and made a mental note to call someone she knew who owned an art restoration service. “I’ll try and get that information for you. I’m going to spend one more day going through the trunks before heading over to the house to start with the crates.”

“I’ll have the caretaker give you a remote device to operate the front gates, and that way you won’t have to call him in advance. My Thursday schedule is filled with back-to-back interviews, so I doubt whether I’ll get to see you. I’ll also make certain some of the crates are brought up from the cellar and into in the library.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand to smother a yawn. “Sorry about that. Red wine always makes me sleepy.” Even when traveling through Europe she’d made certain not to drink red wine if she’d planned to stay up for any appreciable amount of time.

“Why don’t you go into