Written in response to an NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge, 2021.
In 1963 Halifax, cafe owner Kerry Cuthbert bears witness to the effects of urban renewal in her neighborhood and worries about her business. Meanwhile, her new young cook, Milton has dreams of challenging his social strata.
*****
“Milton!”
Kerry’s sharp eye caught one of her good cornflower blue soup bowls going out the door in the brown hand of her baker. Through the front window she spied a wagging tail. Was that boy feeding the mangy stray dog out of one of her good soup bowls?
Kerry came out from behind the counter, and pulled on Milton’s shoulder. He was kneeling, letting the dog lap water from the bowl.
“I’m sorry, missus, he was thirsty. He got abandoned when his people moved. Besides, this bowl was chipped, see?”
Sure enough, there was a large chip out of the rim. Kerry sighed. “How’d it get chipped, Milton? Those bowls aren’t cheap! You got to take care washing them.”
“It was chipped when it came to the kitchen!” he protested.
She looked out the door, past him, rubbing her forehead. It was early, the sun barely up and the far side of Gottingen was still mostly in shadow. The recently opened library nearby showed a few lights. Time was, this part of the street would have been a little more lively by now. Storekeepers stopping in for a coffee and chat on their way to work. Some of the office girls indulging in a doughnut.
Milton headed back into the kitchen, his slim body pulling in on itself as he passed her. The stray dog snuffled and slunk away up the road.
She gazed after the mongrel, at the jutting empty space up the street. Maisie’s house had been one of the last to come down, and now her friend lived all the way out in Rockingham. They’d barely finished clearing the debris. City Hall said this was part of a bold plan to modernize Halifax. “Public good.” She harboured quiet doubts.
“Hello, Kerry!” Edna was waving as she ran across the street from the library. “Can I get a quick cup of tea?” Edna had been ducking over daily for a ‘quick cup of tea’ for the last two weeks. Kerry suspected she was checking on her protege.
Sure enough, she peeked behind Kerry, and whispered, “How’s he doing?”
“He’s fine, a real help. Thank you again, for recommending him. Mind you, he was giving the old stray dog water out of one of my good bowls, but he’s doing well otherwise. He’s got some fine hustle, Had the place swept and mopped before I got here this morning.”
“Oh, I’m so glad! I know that boy’s going to go places someday, you watch. He told me when he read about Dr. King’s speech last week, how it made his heart glow to hear parts of it. Said he has a dream too. Asked if I thought he could be an alderman someday. Imagine!”
“Well, I guess that’s something. Might be worth a chipped bowl, even.”
“Morning, Miss Cuthbert,” a fellow in a hardhat called out as he and another man strolled in and slid into a booth. The work crews were a rough lot, but they were keeping her going. She passed them a menu. “I would love a fried egg sandwich with some ham on it, ma’am. And a good, strong cup of coffee.”
The other man piped up, “Just coffee and a doughnut for me, please.”
She called the order back to Milton, and he remembered to check white or brown bread. He was cheaper than her last cook had been, for sure, and maybe smarter too.
She brought the workers their coffee and a small jug of cream.
As she rounded the end of the counter, Milton was preparing a fresh pot of coffee and chatting with Edna. Edna slid him a newspaper.
“Milton, you’re my kitchen help, you shouldn’t be out here.” Kerry glanced back at the two customers.
“Sorry, ma’am, I just wanted to help.” The young boy was bashful. He took the newspaper back into the kitchen. Edna looked at her, worry creasing her brow.
“You haven’t gotten any … comments on having Miton here, have you?” Her eyes slid toward the workers.
Kerry briskly shook her head, “No, no, there’s been none of that.”
Grabbing a small plate holding a fresh doughnut, she collected the sandwich offered by Milton, and dropped these at the men’s booth. She topped up their coffee, noting, “Fine weather for working, still, I guess.”
“Sure is, ma’am. I expect it’s going to be noisy hereabouts for a while.” He sounded apologetic.
“Dusty too, I imagine,” smiled Kerry. She headed back to the counter where Edna was calling out school-related questions to the kitchen window.
Milton passed her out a dozen fresh muffins, and she filled the display case, passing one to Edna, who picked off small bits and put them into her mouth, savouring each.
“What a cook, am I right? I told you!” She closed her eyes and chewed.
Edna added, “Milton told me the word in Africville is that the city is intent on making his folks move. There’s rumours that’s what the housing those fellas are building is for.”
One of the men had approached the counter to ask for some catsup.
“Well, moving more folks back into the neighborhood would be a blessing, that’s for sure,” said Kerry. “Business could pick up a bit more.” She passed the glass bottle to the man.
“Thanks,” he nodded. “I don’t expect the folk moving in those places will be buying meals here. Not a nice respectable place like this.” He nodded.
Kerry saw Milton catch her eye through the window to the kitchen.
At 8:45 am, Milton called out that he was heading to school and would be back at lunchtime. She looked out the door to see the stray dog waiting for him. He pulled some crusts from his pocket, probably collected from a returned plate, and gave them to the mutt. The two marched up Gottingen Street, heads held high, as bulldozers roared to life nearby. The wind blew a few leaves loose. Fall was in the air.
