“What’s a functional alcoholic?” Andrea asked her. “I thought most alcoholics weren’t functional at all.”
“Functional alcoholism is interesting,” Doc told them. “I’ve done some research on it. Most people don’t even realize they’re dealing with someone with a drinking problem. When I was in medical school, I rented an apartment with three other guys, and our neighbor next door was a functional alcoholic. He held down a job during the week and didn’t drink a drop of alcohol. Then, when he got off work on Friday, he started binge drinking and he didn’t stop until six o’clock in the evening on Sunday. The four of us watched him rapidly fill up the garbage bin with alcohol bottles. But, when he went to work on Monday morning, he was stone-cold sober.”
Hannah gave a little shiver. “That’s an awful way to live,” she commented.
“Yes, but it worked for him. I talked to him one Friday when he got home from work and I asked him about it. He told me he’d been doing it for years and he never drank during the week because he had such a responsible job.”
“What did he do?” Andrea asked.
“He worked at a munitions factory in Minneapolis.”
“That’s frightening!” Sally sounded nervous about what she’d just learned. “Are you absolutely sure he never drank at work?”
“No.” Doc shook his head. “All I have is my own opinion, but I believed him when he said he never touched alcohol during the week. I did manage to check his work record, and he’d been working at the same place for twenty-seven years and there wasn’t a single employee complaint in his file. I also found out he’d been promoted several times, and he was a shift supervisor in charge of hundreds of workers. That convinced me that he was telling the truth.”
“That’s still pretty frightening,” Andrea said. “What if one of those workers had made a mistake when they were making bullets or whatever they made. They could have blown up and killed people.”
“That’s true,” Doc said. “I often wondered what happened to him after we left our apartment for one in a better area. Then, one day, I saw a photo of workers who had retired from that munitions factory and he was in the front row.”
“That makes me feel a little better,” Sally told him.
“It made me feel better, too,” Doc admitted. “Since they retired him with honors, I guess he must have managed to get through his whole work career without any alcohol-related mishaps.” Doc finished his coffee and got up. “I’d better let you ladies get back to work. I have to call the hospital to check in and see how my interns are doing.”
“That was interesting,” Hannah said when Doc had left. “I learned something new. I knew there were functional alcoholics, but I always thought they’d slip up eventually.”
“I think a lot of them do,” Sally said. “I’ll ask Dick if he knows any more about it. Since we bought this place and he became the head bartender, he’s been learning a lot from his bar customers.”
“Like what?” Andrea asked, obviously unwilling to give up their conversation quite yet.
“Like how to cut someone off without making them angry. That takes a certain talent. There’s only one person I can think of who’s better at that than Dick is.”
“Who’s that?” Hannah asked.
“Your mother. Stepping on Sonny’s foot and pushing him into Mike and Lonnie’s arms was a stroke of pure genius.”
Chapter Seven
Three hours later, the morning baking was finished, and Hannah and Andrea were standing behind the breakfast buffet table. They were serving those who needed help and refilling various platters and dishes as needed. They’d had a few minutes to run up to their room to freshen up and now they were back on duty again.
“There’s the blonde wife and her friend,” Andrea said as the two women walked into the dining room.
“I see them,” Hannah told her. “The blonde looked around for a few moments and now they’re heading for an empty table.”
“I bet she was looking for Sonny,” Andrea said. “It’s a good thing he’s not here at the buffet this morning because here come their husbands.”
Both sisters watched as the husbands spotted their wives and joined them at the table.
“At least there won’t be a problem this morning,” Andrea commented, sounding relieved. “Do we have a backup pan of breakfast enchiladas, Hannah? This pan only has two left.”
Hannah lifted the tablecloth and checked the shelf under the buffet table. “Do you want the red or the green?”
“These are red so we’d better go with that,” Andrea told her. “I can add these two to the full pan.”
“Sally’s breakfast enchiladas are really popular with this crowd,” Hannah remarked.
“I know. I was a little surprised when Sally told us that we were making enchiladas for breakfast.”
“So was I until I read the recipe. Everything inside is practically a staple for breakfast.”
“You’re right. You can’t go wrong with scrambled eggs, cheese, potatoes, and ham. If we have any left, I’m going to try one to see what it tastes like.”
“I’m going to try two, a red and a green,” Hannah decided. “Do you want me to hold out one of each for us?”
“Yes, if you can.”
“I can,” Hannah said, salting away the two red enchiladas that were still in the pan and passing a full steam table tray to Andrea.
“I wonder why Sally’s so fond of Mexican food,” Andrea said. “I could understand if we lived in a big city where there were lots of ethnic restaurants.”
“I think I know why . . .” Hannah said. “Sally and Dick spent a week in Mexico on their honeymoon, and they went back a couple of times after that. I think that’s when Sally fell in love with Mexican food. I know she can make it the traditional way, but she told me that she likes to play with the recipes and do new things with them.”
“Like these Breakfast Enchiladas?” Andrea asked.
“Yes. Check the tray of green enchiladas, will you, Andrea? There’s another full pan under here.”
“Three left,” Andrea said, moving to the second pan.
“Okay. Give me that pan and I’ll pass you the full one. And when those are eaten, we’ll just have to tell everyone that the enchiladas are gone.”
“I don’t think it’ll take very long,” Andrea said, taking the full pan and setting it out. “The guys at the closest table saw that I was putting out new pans and now they’re standing up and heading this way. Did you make a copy of Sally’s recipe, Hannah?”
“Of course I did.”
“Oh good! I really think that I could make those some morning for Bill.”
“I think you could, too.” Hannah refilled the pan of bacon and set it out. “The fishermen are hungry this morning.”
“I know, and so am I. I know we had breakfast, but that was hours ago. And standing back here, looking at all that good food, is just about killing me.”
“I heard that,” Sally said, coming over to join them. “Do you want to take a little time off to eat? My third waitress just came on and she can refill trays with me. And I’ve already made the rounds of the tables and greeted everyone.”