Chapter 3

Accidental Crossroads: 3.

"Who was that?"

"Polly Caretaker, Jakob Flintkote's Caretaker," said the ceiling. "Have a seat," The comfy looking leather recliner appeared out of no where. "We're unsure what to do with you. Hungry?"

"I could do with a bite," said John.

"Preferences?" asked the ceiling.

"Can I get a porterhouse steak, aged to perfection and so tender I can cut it with a fork?" Talking to a ceiling ... well ... you know ... I wasn't sure I was sane ... might as well go for broke. "Baked Idaho spud dripping with real salted butter, with chives and bacon bits. Spinach salad on the side with cheddar cheese and Italian dressing. Couple of sourdough dinner rolls piping hot from the oven with plenty of good Amish butter, and hot blueberry pie for filling up the corners?"

"Would you care for a Piccini 2008 Riserva Brunello di Montalcino DOCG to go with your steak? The DOCG is a ripe, fruity wine, ruby red in color. The bursts with a bouquet of black cherry and spice. The palate is enticed with ripe fruit and hints of cherry."

"I would love something like that but, you see, I'm allergic to grape. It is a cross I have to bear. Plain filtered water with two fingers of ice will suit me just fine."

"Coming right up," said the ceiling.

John liked to have jumped right out of his skin when the chair table appeared and the salad came next. Fresh baby spinach, vine ripe tomatoes, slivers of sweet baby carrots, Grecian black olives, cooked and chilled sliced morel mushrooms, cheddar cheese ... just a hint of sharpness ... and a secret recipe of Italian dressing full of flavorful bits of spices.

"Your salad," said the ceiling.

"Thank you. It looks delicious," John picked up the silver fork, speared a bite and tasted it. "Oh," he moaned. "It is delicious."

He swore the ceiling smiled.

Salad finished the bowl disappeared and the platter with the steaming porterhouse, baked potato on the side, with fresh chopped chives and bacon bits still warm from the pan and two hot sourdough dinner rolls in a basket with real butter appeared. The steak cut with his fork.

"I've died and gone to heaven," John said.

"Not yet," said the ceiling, ominously. "If you'll excuse me, I need to attend the meeting. I'll clear away when you're done."

Shrugging, John dug in. The porterhouse was hot and flavorful right up to the last bite. The potato was perfect and the rolls soaked up the drippings.

Replete, John laid his fork on the plate and it disappeared. The chair restored itself to its upright condition and nearly dumped John on the floor. A light appeared over a new door.

The ceiling said, "This door leads to a room with a box ... a restoration box. You are in terrible shape and should have never made it past the first door. So, the committee has decided you need to be made whole again. After that, we will discuss where you are, what we do and make an offer of unusual employment."