17. Lighter
The world was suddenly a new and exciting place. Possibilities were endless. Brilliant, bold creations were within reach.
At least, that was the mindset of Will and Elizabeth as they stared, glowing with pride, at their new grill. The chrome shone softly in the fading daylight, glimmering along the perfect contours.
Will had nearly gone ballistic learning of the grill's capabilities, rattling on about its 50,000 BTU main burner output, the total cooking area of 700 square inches, and the rotisserie burner. Elizabeth merely liked the sleek design and the fact that it was on sale for half the regular price.
All the same, it was carted onto their small patio, wrapping torn away and fresh coals laid in preparation. Will brandished a plate of steak, a wide metal spatula, and a shiny new lighter. His grin couldn't have been wider.
Elizabeth placed herself a few yards away on the patio furniture with a pile of bills that needed to be looked over. They each settled into their own activity fairly rapidly and the air grew quiet.
Humming softly in attempt to retain at least a portion of her brain, she ran through the numbers printed on various receipts and invoices. The electric bill had gone up, she reflected pensively. No matter as long as they cut back in a few areas.
It was then that she noticed a queer scraping sound. It sounded over, and over, and over. It was tinny but grated…almost like a lighter. She glanced towards the other side of the patio. "Will?"
He was bent over the grill, his head just out of sight. The plate of steak sat forlornly to the side. The top of the grill was propped open, revealing the cold, black coals that were sadly lacking in heat.
"Babe?"
He grunted and muttered several unsavory words.
Tapping her pen against a notebook, she waited rather apprehensively. Surely they hadn't purchased a defective grill. She didn't want to even think about dragging that infernal contraption back through her recently cleaned carpets. One set of wheel tracks was plenty.
"Elizabeth? Do we have any matches?"
Her nose wrinkled in thought. "I think so. Check the living room bureau." Her attention was returned to the stack of receipts. The sound of the patio door opening and Will's even footfalls filled her mind as the numbers on the receipt continued to foil her plan to complete the month's budgeting. In the quiet of the afternoon, she had completed the calculation before Will returned.
Dark, stubbornly curly hair stuck out in all directions when he reappeared. Triumphant, he held up a slender packet of matches.
"Is there something wrong with the grill?"
"Despite the fact that it is entirely lacking in flame? I don't think so." He bent back over their new technological contraption.
"Do you need any help?"
"Nope…ah!" He jerked as if in pain.
"Will?"
"Nothing."
Unsure of whether to be concerned or to be amused, Elizabeth was audience to a cacophony of various exclamations of discomfort. He emerged with two badly burned fingers and a singed sleeve.
It was then that Elizabeth decided that intervention was necessary. Moving swift and sure, she took his arm, collected the plate of steaks, ensured that the grill was indeed turned off and went inside.
Twenty minutes later with Will's fingers neatly bandaged, they ate oven broiled steaks.