Olivia was frantic. She had less than twenty minutes before the handsome captain and his black haired partner would be back for their date. Gertrude wasn't any help at all. Being together for nearly 60 years had done nothing to make the other woman any more of a household help. Give Gerty a gun, she could out shoot anyone. Even in her old age she was brilliant. But give the woman a broom, or a whisk, and you might as well had asked her to build a tank! Olivia shook her head. Pulling the stuffed peppers out of the oven she heard the distant clatter of falling dishes, and her wife's enraged cursing.
"Olive! Do we have any other dishes?" Olivia rolled her eyes.
"That was our last set of guest dishes klutz!" Gertrude sighed, walking into the room with her hands on her hips.
"Now what are we going to do? Have them eat off paper?" Olivia swatted her dishtowel at the aproned figure of her wife.
"No, you are going to go choose a wine from the cellar, try not to break it, and I am going to get our fine china from the cupboard and set it up for them." The inn keeper nodded.
"Yes ma'am, anything else?" Olivia bit her lip, looking mournfully at the stairs.
"Can you go up into the attic and get the candelabra for the table?" Gertrude nodded.
"Is your hip giving you fits again?" The other woman sighed mournfully. Then grinned cheekily at her partner.
"Something seems to have aggravated it." Gertrude disappeared down the celler steps, tossing up one final remark.
"It's what you get for ageing so gracefully." Olivia shook her head. She had a table to set, food to prepare, a young couple to help, and fifteen minutes to do it in.