Whining and Dining
All Erica and Martin wanted was a nice lunch. They had been married for 19 years and obviously weren’t shopping for a wedding venue, but the restaurant they stopped at that day (after a pretty long search) seemed to be filled with a few couples who were doing just that.
They had driven nearly 50 miles up and down a road that paralleled the Hudson River in search of something other than fast food or a deli. Erica was keen on finding something she said that “wouldn’t give us food poisoning.” Martin simply nodded when she said this, but he understood. He wasn’t prone to food poisoning or even an upset stomach, but Erica was. And when Erica was sick, he might as well be sick too, especially if they were traveling together. Why? Because when Erica got sick, he usually ended up having to take care of her. This didn’t happen often but when it did, he resented the disruption. Plus, it invariably confined both of them to a hotel room (or in Erica’s case a hotel bathroom) rather than all the sightseeing they had planned for the day.
But then they saw a small sign on the side of the road pointing to “The Manor.” They weren’t sure if this was a hotel or even a historical site, but Martin turned down the road and they found themselves staring at what looked like an old colonial house. Had it been an inn or tavern at one point? Maybe where a horse-drawn carriage would stop and put-up weary travelers? The house was so old it looked like it might have been built prior to the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
“Oh look,” Erica said.
She pointed to a large lawn that was behind the house. Someone had taken the initiative to scatter a few outdoor tables and even a couple of rocking chairs on the lawn to perhaps make “The Manor” a tad more inviting.
“It’s a restaurant!” Erica said.
“Looks pretty,” Erica continued.
The Hudson River was right at their doorstep.
Martin nodded.
“Looks like a painting,” he said.
“Maybe the Hudson River School?” Erica asked.
She didn’t want to show off her art school knowledge, but she was testing him to see if he remembered any of the Hudson River School artists she had told him about. Erica didn’t particularly like those landscape paintings. She thought they were pretty, but often too moody. And ultimately a tad boring for her taste.
“It was that guy Cole, right?” Martin asked.
“There were a few of them, but yes, Thomas Cole was the main guy.”
Erica was happy he had gotten it right.
“Dark clouds and mountains with a lake or river in the distance,” Martin continued.
“And a pretty little house on a hill and usually a boat on the water,” Erica added.
Martin nodded.
“We’re not in the Catskills though, right?” Erica asked.
While Erica was highly knowledgeable about art and artists, looking at maps and trying to figure out directions always put her at a loss.
“No, we’re not. That’s further up,” Martin said.
This is also why Martin did the bulk of the driving when they went out. He always seemed to know which way to turn or which direction they should be heading, even if they were visiting a place they had never been to before. She admired that in him.
“Want to see if they’re still serving lunch?” Martin asked.
Erica nodded and Martin parked the car near the entrance to what looked like the restaurant portion of the house.
They got out of the car together and Erica looked up at the sky. It had started to rain.
“Guess we’re not asking for a table outside,” she said.
“Guess not.”
When Erica walked into the main dining room, she saw a bunch of small rooms. Each one had bright red, wall-to-wall carpeting. There were also oversized Baroque-looking chairs that were upholstered in a red that Erica thought was supposed to match the carpeting. Erica raised her eyebrows a bit but then pointed to the walls.