“It’s not really an event,” Amy began. “We’re just planning a little surprise party for a friend, and there are only going to be four of us....”
“And you say it’s not an event!” the delicatessen owner said reproachfully. “When you buy here, every meal is an event! Just tell me how much you want to spend, and I’ll make you a menu for a party you’ll never forget!”
His enthusiasm flagged a little when Peggy hesitantly told him that they hadn’t figured on spending more than five dollars, but he made a fast recovery.
“Even for four dollars,” he said, “I could make you a party for the gods!”
Seemingly from nowhere, he produced a beautifully roasted turkey with a few slices already removed. Skillfully, he cut several long, thin slices of white meat. Swiss cheese followed, and after that, moist, lean slices of pink ham. Moving deftly and surely from counter to bin to shelf to refrigerator to cabinet, the owner piled up containers of potato salad, cole slaw, bottles of soft drinks, a sliced loaf of rye bread with caraway seeds and a small jar of mustard.
“There!” he said. “That’s an event!”
“How much is it?” Peggy asked, looking fearfully at what seemed to her to be a mountain of food.
“I was aiming for five dollars,” the owner said, “as specified. However, let me do the addition and see....” He rapidly penciled figures on a brown paper bag and added them in a flash. When he looked up, it was with a crestfallen expression.
“The first time in years I went over the budget,” he said mournfully. “Usually I can pick things out right to the penny. Ah, well....” He sighed. “To err is human. Even for a delicatessen owner.”
“How much is it?” Peggy asked again.