John Hellum August 2008
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Divine Intervention
An increasing number of angelic encounters were being written about back in the 1980’s and mother and I had ours while running the Judges Manor.
It was graduation time in ’84 and the phone was ringing off the hook. Reservations for families and their graduating offspring and their dates, were promising to make it one hell of a night.
On graduation day, Mother came early to set up the usual tables for 6 or 8 or 10, in spaces that would defy structural engineers and other mere mortals. Flowers had to be arranged and glasses had to sparkle.
I, of course, was in the kitchen doing my thing, preparing for a full house.
At about three p.m. disaster struck. Our waitress called in sick. That wasn’t too bad at first because we did have back up staff. Mother went through the list, but not one of them could work that evening. Then the panic set in. All was lost!
With Mother hyper-ventilating, the cat yowling, and me cursing a blue streak, there came a knock at the front door. There stood a tall, dark, dapper young man wearing a white dinner jacket, black slacks and tie. He introduced himself as Mr. Geoffrey Soames of West Essex, England, and asked if we would be hiring at this time, for a full time waiter. When I picked my jaw up from the floor, and managed to stop stuttering and actually speak, I introduced him to Mother, who came out of the kitchen. “Mother, this is Mr. Geoffrey Soames of West Essex, England and he wishes to be hired as a full time waiter”.
Her eyes bugged out, “You’re kidding” she gasped, “that would be too cruel a jest, under these circumstances!” “No” I replied, “I’m not kidding”.
Even the cat registered an interest in this stranger. We sat down to interview him, and found that his parents operated a hotel, and that he had been in the restaurant business all his life back in England. He was staying with friends in the area, was looking for work and would like to settle. We were in shock. Could he start immediately? Say in about an hour, with guaranteed full time employment? No problem. He just needed to freshen up and return before opening.
The cat hopped up onto his lap. Will wonders never cease? Kitty, a purebred Maine Coon, with high hair and hauteur, banished people to emotional Siberia, with a look, and a flick of her regal tail. Never did she hop on laps! Mr. Soames gave Kitty a scratch under the chin, put her down- got up and left. I felt unusually relaxed: I didn’t need to worry now.
Mr. Soames returned later, dressed impeccably in a professional waiter uniform. Mother showed him around, not quite trusting he could remember everything. He merely nodded and asked very few questions. The cat settled by the fireplace and we were ready.
Eager patrons then began arriving, Mother greeted people at the door, complimenting them on their beautiful gowns and formal attire, then seated them. Mr. Soames would glide behind her, handing out menus, taking their drink orders, make the drinks, deliver the drinks, then take orders for dinner. Mother was doing the same in her section. He even had time to give her a hand. All was extraordinarily calm.
By nine p.m. the worst was over, with just regular diners lingering over coffee. We praised Mr. Soames on how effortlessly he managed everything. He was very modest and thanked us. When it came time to eat our own dinners, he excused himself, saying he would rather go home. After many grateful thanks from us, he left. We noticed that he drove away in a white beat up Volvo – our knight in shining amour and his white charger.
The next day we expected Mr. Soames at 4.00p.m. He didn’t show up, but our waitress did, apologizing for last evening. She said she was much better, and could work this evening, if needed. This was beginning to be crazy-making.
I called the phone number Mr. Soames had given us, a lady answered, and I asked to speak to Mr. Soames, please. There was silence. I repeated myself. She asked how I came to be asking for him. I explained the situation. There was silence again. She told me then, that there wasn’t any Mr. Soames staying with her, and that although she had known Mr. Geoffrey Soames and his parents that he had died a year ago, exactly the time of our graduating evening! It was my turn to be silent. She explained that he had been in a car crash while returning from work that evening, back in England. I had to ask “What kind of car had he been in?’ She paused for a moment, but answered, “A white Volvo”.
We never had a visit from Mr. Soames again, but Mother and I still talk about it, and offer up a prayer of thanks to him each time. Wherever you are Mr. Geoffrey Soames, thank you.