Five Years a Writer

As I remember it, it was a Sunday morning. Early summer, easy breezy weather, and the time to enjoy it. Whatever happened was welcome, a total change from the hard school year that had recently ended. I was out of province, staying with friends, in serious holiday mode. Delightful. That Sunday morning, a bunch of friends came over for breakfast. My hostess and I decided to serve eggs Benedict with homemade hollandaise sauce — not in my repertoire, but a specialty of hers. The friends were pleased to be invited, as my hostess, **Esmé, was well known for the good food and fun times she produced out of her kitchen and around her table. I was looking forward to being part of a large gathering, happy to be together, and enjoying the conviviality of a shared home-cooked meal. Esmé and I worked well together in the kitchen, she taking the Chef role and I the line cook’s. English muffins sliced, ready for toasting. The butter and egg yolks measured for the hollandaise. More eggs counted out fo