The grandfather clock leaning against the south wall ground through the gears as it turned the hands to indicate the new hour. The chimes had stopped working years ago, but that was of little concern to the occupants of the house. They preferred the silence. On rare occasions that the chimes attempted to sound, it startled those who were seated below the clock in the paisley-patterned wingback chairs. A cherry end table sat between them. It supported a single lamp and two identical coffee mugs. The mugs had wider bases than necks. This served to keep the coffee hotter, longer. A piece of information that Gerty’s university philosophy professor had imparted on her some 45 years earlier.
“It absolutely works, Gary. I would not continue to believe it if I had not tested it for many years.” Gerty was always explaining and defending the benefits of the narrow-necked mugs to Gary. He had questioned the validity of the claim 40 years ago, but not once since then. However, he had never wholeheartedly agreed, thus Gerty felt it necessary to keep up the good fight. She asserted the claim about once every week or about once every six books read, depending on the length of the text.
Gary had decided to play it a little differently today. Forty years was a good run after all. He wondered what a different response might conjure up, and he wasn’t sure of how to change it up. Perhaps and outright disbelief in the claim or maybe a resounding acceptance. He enjoyed getting her dander up, but never wanted to ruffle her too much. That could be dangerous.
“How do you suppose it works, Gerty?” he asked with a tone of honest inquiry. Gerty had returned to her book after stating the claim. She was now in another world, Narnia to be precise. C.S. Lewis was one of her favorite authors and Narnia one of her favorite places. Gary could tell that Gerty was off, but he wanted to continue in his venture. He picked up his mug and slurped some of the hot coffee.
The slurping seemed to bring Gerty back to her wingback chair that sat by the malfunctioning grandfather clock, in front of the fireplace in the den of their home on Hanover Lane where they had lived for the past forty years. “What is it, Gary?” she asked as she placed her index finger on the page to hold her spot. Although it would not matter where she picked up because she had read this book numerous times before. She looked over at Gary above the rim of her reading glasses.
“The mugs. How do you suppose they work to keep the coffee hot?” He slurped his hotter than average coffee again and waited for her response.
Gerty sighed, closed her book, and removed her reading glasses. She folded them together and placed them on top of her book on the end table. “Honestly, Gary, must we go over this again?” She had apparently forgotten that she was the one who brought it up not moments ago. And technically the last time they had gone over it was 40 years ago even though she mentioned it often. Gerty did not give Gary any time to respond before going into her explanation of how the mug’s shape worked to keep the coffee hotter, longer.
“You understand how a traditional pizza oven is shaped or a fireplace with a smaller opening on top that lets out only a small amount of heat, correct?” She looked at Gary as if this had been explained to him over and over again. He replied in the affirmative and she continued. “In the manner that those devices work to maintain high levels of heat, so does this coffee mug. Gerty sipped from her mug with satisfaction having felt confident in her explanation.
Gary allowed Gerty to drink, pick up her book and glasses and continue to read before offering a question in response. He sipped from his own mug again and then asked, “But, Gerty…” He paused so she could stop reading and place her attention on him. And with a sigh, she did. He continued. “Do not a pizza oven and a fireplace require fuel in the form of coal or wood in order to maintain their heat?” Gary could see the agitation in Gerty’s mannerisms, but after 40 years of marriage, he knew that under that agitation was the desire to debate and it was always welcomed at 1500 Hanover Lane.
Gerty took a sip of hot coffee and thought for a moment. Gary noticed a slight smile come across her lips before it disappeared. He knew she had an answer for him that would likely destroy his unthought out question. Even he knew the perfect rebuttal and now figured that she must know it too. Gerty looked at Gary and slowly shook her head. The smile returned. “Gary, I am surprised that you do not know this about pizza ovens. Surely you remember it from the pizza making class we took in Florence.”
Gary looked up and to the left, searching for the memory of the experience. This was, of course, for show. He knew exactly what class she was referring to and what fact she had eluded to. He decided to continue playing with her the way he knew she enjoyed. He returned his gaze to her with a confused expression on his face. “Florence, South Carolina?” he asked.
Gerty raised her left hand in the air and threw her head back a bit with a slight roll of the eyes. She shook her head and said, “Gary, you silly old man.” Gerty went back to her reading. Still shaking her head.
Gary watched her knowing that she could not leave it at that. She heaved a sigh and removed her glasses. At that, Gary turned to his reading. She looked over to Gary, not caring that he was facing his book and began speaking. “You know very well that a well-designed pizza oven can hold its heat for many hours and a large fraction of its heat for days. So do not insult my intelligence by acting as if you do not remember our time in Firenze, Italy or that these mugs are superior at holding in the heat of our coffee.”
Gerty stopped and waited for Gary to lift his head and cede her the point and win for this round. She sipped from her coffee then cleared her throat. Gary looked up from his book and over to Gerty and asked, “I’m sorry, Dear, what was that?”
Gerty pursed her lips and wagged her right index finger at Gary. Then she pointed her finger at him and leaned in to say, “Your book is upside down, Dear.”
Photo of the clock by Magda Ehlers from Pexels