An Invitation
 

Miss Peeg was just clearing off her dinner table when she heard a car door slam. She went to the front door.

“Why Michael, how nice to see you. Do come in.”

“Hullo Winnie, I was out at Glenridge for a Thanksgiving meal and thought I’d stop by and see you.”

“Oh, that’s right, it’s a holiday for Toni isn’t it.” She closed her door, “I’ve just put the coffee on, would you care for a cup?”

“I would, yes.” He found a comfortable chair in her lounge

“How is everyone at Glenridge and Toni, is she doing well with her pregnancy?”

“It was a good day out there. A very warm family, you know. Toni has a baby bump I believe they call them nowadays, but she seems to be taking it in stride. Travis is awfully proud you know…I quite like him as a man.”

“He’s very charming and handsome.” She brought him a good mug of coffee.

“He’s more than that, a very caring person about his people out there and about The Glen. Thank you, my dear. How’ve you been, Winnie?”

Winnie took a seat on her sofa with her mug, “Quite well, Michael. And you?” she took a sip.

“I’m stuck on my book. However, I have found a publisher who is interested in Sydney. He says if I can get him something together…so I thought I’d fly to Sydney for a couple of days and see him. Say, you wouldn’t want to accompany me, would you?

“Oh…well that would be very nice, wouldn’t it. I’ve not been anywhere in some time. Thank you, Michael, I should love to go with you. When are you thinking about this trip?”

“I thought on Tuesday, give me a day to make arrangements. We could fly back on Thursday or Friday. Can you get the time off?”

“I’ve not had a holiday since I started working for Mr. Roberts; I can’t think he wouldn’t give me the time. It sounds lovely.” She smiled.

“Good, that’s settled. Oh, Toni has a new housekeeper coming, a man called Lee, from Singapore.”

“Ah, we had a houseman when we were in Singapore once, very particular he was not a speck of dust or a blight on anything. I don’t recall ever seeing him sit down in the ten months we were there.”

“You know, Winnie you should write your memoirs, what a story that would be.”

“Me? Oh, ho, I shouldn’t think anyone would be interested in an old lady’s memories.” She chuckled.

“You’ve led a very interesting life. I would be interested in reading it.”

“Would you, Michael? I think you’d be reaching for the TV guide after the first few pages. We can’t all be authors like you.”

“An author is someone who has written something, perhaps published. I’m still scratching my head.”

“Well, perhaps this trip will unblock your memories.”

“A trip with you…well if that won’t do it then nothing will, you make very good coffee,” a smile in his eyes as he looked at her over the rim of his coffee mug.