Ronda Rich
Syndicated Columnist
Tink and I had a precious friend named Roy Hodnett. Roy, the kindest, most perfect Southern gentleman had, with his pretty wife, Anne, raised their family in Virginia.
He sold cookies for a living. That’s the way Roy always phrased it. When he retired, he and Anne were traveling South when they happened upon a charming island that captured their hearts.
At 65, the Hodnetts bought a house on St. Simons Island, where Roy decided to take up selling real estate. In a short time, he, charming and honorable always, made a fortune. The commission on island property is much higher than that on a pack of cookies.
From the moment that Roy became a millionaire, he refused to allow anyone else to pick up a dining check. Once, Tink and I hosted a small dinner party on St. Simons and while Tink paid the check, Roy squirmed uncomfortably, trying to convince Tink to give him the check. Only Anne, holding his arm to the chair and saying firmly, “Roy, no. This is their joy. Don’t take it away.”
That’s how we look at it: it is a blessing to bring pleasure to others.
Twenty years ago, we began a dear friendship with an adorable couple. The man is one of the most famous people in America. If I called him by name, you’d recognize him immediately.
The dinner check came. Tink quickly laid down his credit card as the other man was reaching for his wallet. His eyes grew big.
“I’m gettin’ that,” he said.
To the waitress, Tink said, “Take that card.”
Puzzled, the man shook his head. “Do you know that’s the first time since I’ve started makin’ money that anyone paid the check? Someone always picks the check up and passes it to me.”
These days, we swap off and, quite often, one guy will look at the other and say, “I don’t remember who paid last time.” Then, they’ll work it out.
It’s been over a year now since that couple joined us and another couple at my invitation to Ruth’s Chris Steak House. He was the chairman/CEO of Waffle House, Walt Ehmer. I wanted the two couples to spend time together because Walt was gravely ill with pancreatic cancer.
The next day, Walt called. “I’m assuming that he picked up the check. I wanted to send him a thank you note.”
I laughed teasingly. “Well, actually, we picked up the check.”
“Oh,” Walt replied in a voice that was growing increasingly weak. I never got a thank you note from him – though I wish I had one to cherish and put in our bank deposit box – but it was the last time I was ever to see my precious friend. No amount of money could buy that memory.
This all leads to the main event. About four years ago, a couple moved into a subdivision up the road and down another road from us. Tink met them somewhere and thought them to be nice people.
Twice, they called to invite us to dinner. On the third invite, I said, “We must go.”
They chose an extremely expensive restaurant then, as soon as we were seated, the man ordered several appetizers and a hundred-dollar bottle of wine. (We don’t even drink $5 bottles of wine.) Tink and I ordered water and, thinking they were paying, ordered modestly. That’s a Southern rule for dining. They ordered expensive items. Then, dessert.
The waiter placed the check in the table’s center, closer to the other man. He never glanced down. After quite a bit of time, Tink, gentleman that he is, reached for the check. Neither the man nor the woman paid attention. Or said, “Thank you.”
We paid it. Five hundred dollars. I’m still stunned. Those people moved elsewhere. Apparently, they keep moving to new places to find someone to buy them dinner.
That’s a good thing. They just aren’t acquainted with the Southern way of dining.
Ronda Rich is the best-selling author of the Stella Bankwell series. Please enjoy “A Merry Chatty Christmas.”
Dining and Cooking