Krista ran from the kitchen to her front door, “Wait, wait, wait” she said breathlessly, “can you guys take your shoes off and leave them here by the door, please?”
Ben, Michelle, and Cheri all nodded, and complied.
“Sure.” “Not a problem.” “Uh huh, of course.” They mumbled collectively as they set their zapatos neatly into the cubbies that had been erected on the wall by the door.
The occasion was a dinner/business discussion and Krista was the host. Michelle had suggested an Italian restaurant downtown but, then Krista volunteered to cook. They had all tasted Krista’s cooking before at potlucks and bake sales. Agreement was swift.
No one had been to Krista’s home before so she shared her address and they set a time for that evening. Cheri asked for no red meat and Krista was quick to concur.
She showed her guests into the house and then gave them a quick tour. Throw rugs were placed strategically around the parlor; the floor was fine Italian porcelain tile, very handsome indeed. Art was hung on the walls and there were a few small sculptures placed on tables and shelves. However, it was apparent to everyone that Krista decorated primarily with books. Books were everywhere. Books were obviously important to her, as they were to the others.
Krista’s lucky mukluks adorned her feet; the ones with the knitted patterns on the uppers, the rest of them were in socks. Cheri was wearing sheer ankle high white socks. Michelle had on tube socks with green stripes around the top. and Ben was wearing boot socks. The kind that they make sock monkeys of, the tip of Ben’s left big toe was peeking out of the top.
They passed on through into the kitchen and gathered around the island. The porcelain tile had carried on into this room as well. In fact it carried on throughout the house. The evening got underway with light banter about ‘daily prompts’ and ‘Wordpress blogs’. Krista had been running the juicer so there were kale and cucumber drinks ready. She offered to run some carrots through but everyone was happy with the green. Cheri noticed a chill creeping into her feet but she didn’t say anything. She knew it was because of her thin socks and she had left her trainers in the cubby by the front door, as requested.
Dinner was a hit with perfectly prepared Chicken Marsala as an entrée. During the meal Michelle had tucked her feet up under her butt on the chair. They were getting cold and she longed for her Ugg Boots, recently abandoned by the entrance. She knew that if she got her feet off the tile floor it would help, and it did, a bit. Ben helped Krista clear the table and then they all settled back around it with coffee, to talk, plan and visit. Nothing beats good food followed by good conversation between good friends (be they new friends or old). The evening was swimming – plans were being formalized, and there was just the right amount of workplace gossip included to keep everyone’s interest and encourage participation.
Krista noticed her friend shivering. “Are you OK, Ben?” she asked. “You don’t look comfortable.”
“I think, I may have to leave Krista. I’m freezing.” Ben replied and he lifted his foot, showed them the bottoms of his socks. They were obviously old socks and, although the weave and the weft were, for the most part, intact; they were threadbare. “I should have worn different socks.” He lamented. “I need my boots. I had a lovely evening though. Next time I’ll be better prepared.”
When Ben rose to leave, Cheri and Michelle got up too. “I guess we’ll mosey on as well.” Michelle said, “We all came in one car.”
“Thanks so much for dinner,” Cheri chirped. “I really loved the salad.”
Krista walked them all to the door and everyone said their “goodbyes” and “thanks” again.
As she watched her friends walking to the street, Krista closed the door and thought to herself “Damn, we didn’t even get to play Twister” and she stood there, leaning her back against the door, until she heard Ben’s car start up and pull away into the night.
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