"We were saving that chair," Ben said.
Rhea had already pulled it away from the table. On the seat, Pearl opened one pale green eye. Her white tail covered most of the cushion.
"She doesn't know that."
"I mentioned it when I set the table."
"To me."
Ben looked at the cat. "I thought the announcement was general."
Rhea let go of the chair back. Pearl closed her eye. From the kitchen came the sound of the pot lid settling after Ben had checked the soup for the third time.
There were four bowls on the table and, in principle, four chairs. Rhea's sister Jo and her husband Pete would be there in ten minutes. Jo usually sat on the window side because she liked the light and because, as she put it, she could hear Rhea better without the kitchen behind her.
Pearl had been using that chair since breakfast.
"There's the folding one," Rhea said.
"In the cupboard?"
"Unless you've put it somewhere more interesting."
Ben went to look. Rhea straightened one of the plum-colored napkins, then stopped straightening it. The crease was going to stay where it was.
Pearl stretched a front paw to the edge of the cushion.
Before the soup
Jo arrived wearing the coat Rhea had helped her choose the previous winter. Pete carried a square serving dish wrapped in a tea towel.
"Don't let me forget this," Jo said, handing Rhea the empty dish. "It's yours."
"I wasn't going to say anything."
"You said something on Tuesday."
They stood in the hall while Pete found a hook for the coats. The front door closed. Ben appeared with the folding chair held sideways against his chest.
"Bit of a seating change," he said.
Jo could see Pearl from the doorway. The cat's ears had turned toward their voices, though the rest of her remained folded into the seat.
"Has she had lunch?" Jo asked.
"She's had breakfast," Rhea said. "This is the part between meals."
Pete bent slightly to see the white face beneath the chair back. He said hello without reaching in. Pearl watched him. He straightened and carried the returned dish to the kitchen.
Ben opened the folding chair. One leg landed on the edge of the rug, so he lifted it again and set all four feet on the floor.
"This one's lower," Jo said.
"I'll take it," Ben offered.
"Then where am I?"
Ben pointed to his usual chair.
Jo sat down to try it. She looked through the window, but from this angle the view was mostly the frame.
"You sit here every day?"
"I have the kitchen to look at."
"You have the cupboard to look at."
"It's a nice cupboard."
Rhea went to get a fifth napkin, though she couldn't have said why five chairs required five napkins when there were still only four people. She put it back and took the soup ladle instead.
Pete came out of the kitchen with the empty serving dish.
"Where does this go?"
"Top shelf," Rhea said.
"Which cupboard?"
Ben pointed to the one in his line of sight. Jo gave him a small nod, conceding the usefulness of the view.
Pearl lifted her head when Pete passed behind the chairs. He gave her room. Her whiskers moved; her eye followed him until he disappeared into the kitchen again.
Jo unwrapped the scarf she had forgotten to take off.
"I can sit there," she said, pointing to the folding chair. "I had one exactly like it in my first flat."
"Then you know why I offered to take it," Ben said.
"Yours squeaked. Mine didn't."
"This one doesn't either."
Jo sat. The chair made a short, definite squeak.
Ben opened his mouth, then closed it.
"Only on arrival," he said.
Five chairs
They had been talking about chairs long enough for Pete to finish putting the dish away, wash his hands, and offer to carry the bowls into the kitchen for serving.
Rhea moved them onto a tray. The table looked oddly bare without them. Four napkins, a water jug, five chairs, one cat.
Jo rested her hands in her lap. Ben sat beside her. Pete waited at the kitchen door with the tray, giving Rhea a second to find the cloth she used for the hot pot handles.
Pearl stood up.
It took her a while to unfold. First the front legs, then the long white back, then the tail, which briefly brushed the edge of the seat. She stepped down onto the floor.
All four people watched.
"Well," Ben said.
Pearl walked past the folding chair, paused near Jo's shoe, and continued toward the living room.
Jo looked at the newly empty cushion.
"We can swap," Rhea said.
Jo shifted her weight. The folding chair made no sound this time.
"I've got comfortable now."
Pete carried the bowls back. Rhea finally found the cloth in the pocket of her cardigan, where she had put it to keep it handy.
"I've been carrying it around," she said.
Jo laughed and reached for her napkin. Ben pulled his chair closer to the table. Beyond his elbow, the saved seat remained empty, its cushion holding a shallow white-furred dent.
These characters and this lunch are fictional, drawn together as a composite of everyday households. AI-created scene illustrations accompany the story.
