Dinner

Word count 300

Dinner

         The maître d’ flinched when they arrived. Eleven people attired in satin and ill-fitting polyester suits gawked at the lush surroundings.

         He grimaced. “May I help you?”

         An older gentleman stepped from the throng sporting a grin. “We have reservations, name’s Stevens.”

         The maître d’ perused his list. “We don’t have your reservation. May I suggest the family banquet across town?”

         A sequined woman squinted. “Our money’s not good here?”

         “I’m sure he made a mistake, the reservation was made weeks ago.” The man handed a crumpled five-dollar bill. “Perhaps you could look more carefully. This is a special dinner; we’ve waited a long time to experience your restaurant.”

         Reluctantly, the family was seated among the upper échelon, distaste apparent as the tribe traipsed to a table near the kitchen.

         The maître d’ was transfixed with horror as he watched the adults eat with shrimp forks and children playing swashbuckler with lobster claws. Why had they come? Couldn’t they see they weren’t welcome?

         Finally, the agony ended as the party moved toward the exit. Giant grins plastered the excited faces of the ramshackle family. The older gentleman approached the maître d’. “That was the finest meal we’ve ever had, glad we could share it with you.”

         A waiter stepped forward as they left. “Those were the nicest people I’ve ever met. Did you know that guy runs some gas station in a backwoods town? Told me he’d saved for years so his family could eat here. They’re in town to meet a long-lost relative, wish I were their relative.”

         “I know he’s nice, he’s…”

         “Well, he won’t have to worry about money now; he was the big winner in last week’s lottery. He bought this restaurant for his son yesterday, lucky dog.”

         The maître d’ hung his head. “…my dad.”