Chapter 37

As I stood in the Root Cellar with Morgan looking about at the fresh produce we got at Walmart, I realized what I'd done. Both of us knew just where everything had come from. There would be no surprise for us. We wouldn't question any of it. With others, therein lay the problem.

With the carrots, potatoes, peppers, onions and the like, there would be no difference from what was grown in 1850 so long as contemporary packaging was removed. The other stuff might present a problem. Especially the milk. The plainly printed, bold orange lettering, screamed 'Crown Dairy', 'Established 1928'. Not good.

Also the plastic wrapped packaging for the meat showed a sell-by date. Only it was almost a hundred-and-sixty-five years in the future. Plus plastic was long to be invented. There was an easy solution for that one. Modern packaging could be removed before anyone would see it. Milk could be shifted to another container, eggs and butter too.

But we couldn't go forward that way, bringing food and supplies back from a contemporary supermarket, without raising suspicions of where it came from. I needed to talk to Jim or Stanley about a supplier for the day to day ordinary things. I'd sort of not realized that small point. I had not even wondered about such a simple thing, shall we say, upsetting our apple cart.

On second thought I mused, why not have Jim take care of it. He had to feed his own family. Bulk purchasing for both families would be easy and I could compensate him for the extra effort by paying for all the groceries. He already must make regular trips, perhaps to a nearby farm, for poultry, milk, butter and eggs so that shouldn't be much of an extra task. Although meat might take more work as it most likely would have to be purchased in Dyersburg.

Well, for tonight's meal, the menu was set and I didn't have to worry about all that right then. If questions were asked I could always say, we brought some stuff with us.

In the future, seeing we were buying for eight people, I guessed we could even arrange for regular deliveries of what we'd need. Then there would be no questions. Anyway that's what I hoped.

Of course, contemporary supermarkets did season shifting. By that I mean fresh produce items like tomatoes, strawberries or corn is available year round. I guess, we could get used to returning to the past and eating seasonal things, in season.

Morgan and I gathered up what we would need for our meal and headed back to the kitchen. "How'd it go," said Mary as we rounded the corner from the hallway.

"There was some stuff there," I said as we put a bunch of carrots, string beans and a couple of handfuls of potatoes on the counter. "Found a slab of meat there too," I added as I plunked it down on the counter. "Think it will make a good London Broil."

"Man, we're eating high off the hog," commented Edmund. "I've heard of it but never had it before.

"Too expensive for my blood," he added.

"How do you cook it," asked Mary.

"Just put it in the broiler, on high heat. At least that's what my mom does," I explained.

"Well, I'll put on a couple of pots of water for the vegetables. Morgan, you and Blair peel everything. I'll take care of the beans.

"This is quite a feast we're having," she said.

"Should be a nice first meal in our new home," I told everyone.

Well, it was not without a few little complications though. It took a bit to figure out just how the broiler worked although, finding it wasn't too hard. Mary had a gas stove back in their apartment and knew the main oven, when you put the broiler pan in the little pull-out tray under the it, you could broil things.

All I was familiar with was an electric stove. You had to put the oven rack up high. When oven control was set to broil you placed what you wanted to cook in the oven.

Well, all in all, things went fairly easily. Dinner was mostly uneventful and as the sunset loomed, Edmund took to lighting the kerosene lamps. One thing I hadn't noticed was the chandelier above the kitchen table. It surprised me when he stood on one of the benches, match in hand and started lighting its three lamps.

I said, "That throws a bright light," and Morgan added, "It's so pretty. Better than electric lights. It's softer on the eyes."

The sun started to dip to the horizon and wasn't completely there when there was a knock on the kitchen door. "Hi Jim," said Morgan as she opened the door.

"Glad to see you all made it," he commented, then spied the dinner dishes in the sink. "Guess your newfangled stove worked OK."

"Sure thing," said Edmund as he got up from the table and moved toward Jim. "Worked fine," he added.

Before either Morgan or I could handle the introductions, Edmund took charge and held out a hand saying, "I guess you're Jim. I'm Edmund and this here is my wife Mary."

"Nice to meet you Sir, ma'am," Jim said, showing a little surprise at Edmund's being so forward. He looked at me and I gave him a slight nod, letting him know things were OK.

I interjected, "Oh, Jim. Doctor and Mrs. James will be here tomorrow," as they shook hands, adding, "I was thinking we could maybe have a cookout. Maybe chicken ... corn ... I think that's in season."

"Just in," he said. "And I'll have the Missus cook up a huge batch of French Fries too. They're always good with open fire grilled chicken.

My comment, "We can leave the husks on the corn and cook it that way too," brought a smile from Jim.

We just narrowly avoided a little scene when Jim said, "I think that's a good idea, Sir." He released Edmund's hand and extended it out to me as a compliment. My hand was stretched out to shake Jim's before Edmund could react.

He noticeably flinched at that one seeing the hand and the title went toward me and not him. He looked at me askance with a very annoyed, hard look. I'm sure he didn't like me being called 'Sir' one bit. After all, he was the patriarch and I was stealing his thunder.

Thankfully Morgan reacted instantly and sidled up to her father saying, "Isn't that a great idea dad?" At least, that maneuver deflected his anger for a moment. But one thing I did know is a pot will eventually boil over if the heat isn't turned down.

I wasn't sure how I was going to solve that problem. If it wasn't, and quickly, none of this was going to work. At the least, Edmund would always be against any sort of progress and the situation would only be a thorn to each of us.

But sometimes things work out in a way least expected. I'd left one thing, or rather 'person', out of the equation. Mary. As soon as Jim had said his goodbys, she was right there in front of Edmund.

She'd seen his reaction and it was evident she wasn't least bit pleased. Taking his arm and leading him little bit away from Morgan and me she spun him around so his back was to us. "What?" he said.

"Edmund Paul Cristall," she said firmly, but not loudly. "What do you think you are doing?"

Again he said, "What?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't," came quickly.

"Who's boss around here?" asked Mary.

I knew from the way his mouth formed he was ready to say, 'Me!'. He stood silent for only a split second before she was right at him. Edmund hadn't time to change gears and say anything else.

I silently hoped she didn't ramp it up too far. The last thing I wanted was to undermine any relationship he and I could form. It couldn't be a father and son one that was for sure. Nor did I want to be his boss. Clearly, that wouldn't work either.

Out of left field, Mary solved it all. She said very firmly as she put her hands on her hips, stomped her food and declared, "I am ... and you'd ALL better behave."

Now that worked for me, Morgan smiled and wrapped her left hand around my right arm and put her head to my shoulder. Edmund in essence, was beaten. I had no desire to argue with Mary's logic and the house needed a Matriarch.

That dethroned him and I never wanted that position in the first place. Sure, this was my property and it was my money that would be used to run the place, but above everything, we all needed harmony.

Then she added the whipped cream topping to the pudding. "Paul. You know who's boss outside of this house don't you?"

Carefully, after glancing my way, he thought for a second. Without a doubt Edmund didn't want to contradict what Mary's edict would be so he softly sand, "Who?"

The solution was right there. "Jim. He's the Property Manager and he is your boss." Then looking at each one of us, she added, "As Morgan told us, we all will have jobs to do. Outside of this house, he is everyone's boss.

"My job is first and foremost to keep our home in order. Then, to take care of tasks outside the house, which he'll assign to me."

There is nothing like your wife laying down the law. Edmund realized the 'Testosterone War' he was starting to wage was not worth Mary's wrath.

Not wanting to rub Edmund's nose in the mess he'd created, she just took up the reigns and and pointing to the sink, said, "Now, them's dishes ain't gonna get themselves washed.