Sycamore Park was an eighth of an acre near the eastern edge of the homestead set among the orchards. It took its name from the massive sycamore that once sat near the banks of the Mighty Mo not far downstream of this very location. It had been more than a century old when the American Revolution had begun and over one and a half before Missouri had become a state. It wasn’t even the largest or oldest sycamore in the state when the collapse began or the CCA was founded. It had come down during the Spring of 2356. Age, soil erosion, flooding and time had brought the gnarled hundred eighty foot tall down.
His grandfather, Jimmy, meticulously had it sawn, to produce three huge slabs. The longest of them was now the Y shaped table that gave this park its name. The base trunk was over eight feet across only narrowing to seven before the Y split. That was more than twelve feet down from where he sat at the head of the table. Each fork of the Y was still over four feet wide more than ninety feet away. He looked at the occupants down at the far end of the table and they sat looking at each other with forty-three feet between them.
Jimmy had also personally made all two hundred and nine chairs this table could in theory sit around it from more of the tree, plus the overflow tables and their thirty-eight chairs that flanked this table on either side. The other two massive slabs neatly sectioned with pieces for more chairs sat in one of the shops just beyond kitchen that had been purposefully built to service this dining space. On hot days like this he thought he could still smell the faint hint of diesel this wood spent more than a decade soaking in to preserve it against all comers.
At times like this Matt felt more connected to that man who died twenty-seven years before his own birth than he had ever felt to his own father Craftsmen had that bond and one day Matt hoped he could find a way to honor those slabs of history properly by teaching his sons or grandsons how to work wood with simple tools and strong hearts.
He waited for the aperitif, a yuzu spritzer. T’monn, who was sitting to his right, had picked the first drink to be poured. Standing and picking up his glass he waited for the others to do the same. Looking at group he smiled and for the first time in his life gave a toast in V’ren.
“To new beginnings,” he said, sipping from the glass and was pretty sure he would let T’mon pick drinks again. This was excellent. “For the moment let us enjoy our meal under a beautiful sky with new friends and neighbors. We will explain the legal arrangements of the V’ren Trust Corporation afterwards,” he added taking another sip.
“Do you approve?” T’monn asked smiling at him, sipping from her glass.
“I would have a pitcher of this to sip on all afternoon if I could.”
“We did that yesterday, afternoon,” she laughed.
“W’ren, how about you?”
“That is delightful. T’mari shared many things, but nothing quite so delicate and I am unsure of the words to describe it.”
“I am surprised she didn’t come back down with you. She must be almost out of cheese.”
“We have all enjoyed the cheese. I hope to have more sent back. T’mari did speak with Angelina on that matter, and about Dukes Best Bitters,” he said delighted as the first plate came out.
“L’tani picked this dish,” T’monn said, for the group at this end of the table.
“That is fabulous,” Matt said, taking a bite of the chicken and melon salad.
“We tried seven or eight different things before we settled on this,” she said pairing a piece of watermelon with cucumber kimchi.
“Your hard work is appreciated my niece,” K’rem chuckled, pairing the smoky chicken with the feta and arugula.
“Agreed,” Captain T’nol K’wisp said, glad for anything that was not keft porridge or protein bar.
Matt kept mental notes. The cold soba with poached shrimp had been great. Captain H’lan Fl’iren was enjoying it.
The tea smoked duck wrapped in lettuce had also been nice. Captain N’au Gr’ulan seemed to think this was the best thing on the plate.
Matt, however, thought pairing both with the ginger garlic beef hadn’t been the best choice. He would have done without or just had on its own with the bourbon peach sweet tea. Captain St’olan S’var, who was said to be something of a foodie, seemed to agree with him. He could see her comment and she rated it higher than the duck but didn’t like the pairing with the other two items. He wondered how much of his own card would match hers.
The pineapple granita was especially good as a palate cleanser. He smiled at T’monn, knowing this had to have been her choice. The blissful look all the V’ren seemed to have for it told him he would need to keep this in his own dessert options. His version was served with a grating of macadamia nut and a tiny dot of wasabi.
He would not have finished the meal there with umeshu.
He would not have added the chocolate cake with espresso cream frosting much less paired it with a shot of crème de cacao and double cream. He smiled at L’tani. This had been her request for lunch. K’rem and Captain L’aelin Fr’alin both were taken by the dessert too.
Following that with amaro was not to his liking as he really wasn’t a fan of it to start with. He couldn’t fault either T’monn or L’tani because all the V’ren were enjoying the combination, especially Captain V’eanor M’lev who had given it top marks. He might send a few cases with her.
He’d have words for Marie and the Sorority Seven later. The catering company or Angelina one should have known better and nixed this next heresy. An over sized jello shot was not something one did, especially in the heat of the day.
Minted watermelon with some gelled clear liquor on the side was just wrong. It would be Soju if he was lucky. Vodka if he wasn’t. Matt tossed back the water in a few long swallows, set the glass down, and tipped the second shot of cream after that.
He smiled at the young woman distributing the final heresy against good taste, good times, and summer afternoon sobriety.
“And bring more water and a pitcher of ginger ale and lime. I’ve got a lot of talking ahead of me,” he said, tapping the side of the oversized gelled vodka cup.
An hour later Matt had indeed done a lot of talking and all of it in V’ren. He even managed to dilute the vodka enough to stay buzzed, but upright.
“In the end you made your oaths to me, and I make mine in return to you. If you honor the trust we build going forward, then before this year is out, all those that wish for a home planetside will have one. Take that back to your people and know you have my favor as your High Lord.”
