“Hello,” I called out over the sounds of bubbling and simmering pots.

Mrs. Mayhand, or Paula, quickly turned. Wiping her hands on her apron, she scanned me up and down. There was a moment of contemplation on her part before she smiled. “Hello. So you’re Mr. Sherman’s guest.”

“I am. My name is Julia.”

She nodded. “My name is Paula. Most people call me Mrs. Mayhand.” She winked. “I think it’s because they think I’m old. I’m not too old to remember my first name.”

I grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Paula.”

Her smile broadened. “And you too. What may I get you for” —she looked at the clock— “lunch or is this breakfast?”

Technically, it was somewhere in between. “We could call it brunch.”

Paula walked to a far counter, pulled a coffee mug from a peg. “I have a pot of coffee over here. It’s my indulgence while I cook. Would you like a cup?”

I laid my computer bag on the kitchen table and walked to the breakfast bar “I don’t mind serving myself.”

“I’m only here one day a week. Let an old lady have her way.”

Nodding, I sat up on the high stool. “Yes, please. Coffee would be great.”

“Cream or sugar?”

“Cream, if you have it.”

Paula opened the refrigerator and shook her head. “Is black all right? You tell me some things you like and I’ll add them to the list.” She handed me the warm black coffee.

“I really don’t know how long I’ll be staying.”

As I spoke, she wrote cream on a long list.

“What are you cooking?”

“Mr. Sherman isn’t much for celebrating holidays. You might have chosen a bad time to visit.”

I looked around the large kitchen and out to the living room. “I hadn’t given his lack of decorations much thought.”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t decorate.”

“I can see how it would be a lot of work for only one person to enjoy.”

Paula checked on her pans before pushing a light on the double oven and looking inside. She smiled and turned my way. “When Peggy told me that Mr. Sherman had a guest, I decided he needed a holiday meal.” She shrugged. “He may not like it, but I have a turkey breast in the oven, gravy on the stove and two different casseroles and mashed potatoes already in the refrigerator. I’ll write out warming instructions. No sense in two people spending the holiday without plenty to eat.”

“It sounds delicious.”

“Now, about your brunch.”

“Is there fruit?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. Mr. Sherman likes his nectarines.”

I lifted my coffee mug to my lips, trying to hide my smile. “Nectarines and coffee sounds perfect.”

“Let me make you an English muffin.” She looked at me. “Or are you one of those no-carbs people.”

“I’m one of those too-many-carbs people.”