“I don’t have a lot of friends,” Harriet said. “And even if I did, I know better.”
“Smart woman,” Walter said. “I don’t have a lot of friends either.”
Actually, he thought to himself, he only had one: Elizabeth Zott. And she wasn’t just a friend, she was his best friend. He’d never told her she was, but she was. Yes, there were plenty of people who would argue that a man and woman couldn’t really be friends. They were wrong. He and Elizabeth discussed everything, intimate things—death, sex, and children. Plus, they had each other’s backs like friends do, even laughed together like friends do. Granted, Elizabeth wasn’t a big laugher. Still, despite the show’s growing popularity, she seemed more depressed than ever.
“So,” Walter said, “why don’t we get you out of here before your mom sees us and we all fry in stomach acid.”
“But why do you think my mom’s so popular?” Madeline asked, still wishing she didn’t have to share her.
“Because she says exactly what she thinks,” Walter said. “Which is very rare. But also because the food she makes is very, very good. And because everyone seems to want to learn chemistry. Oddly.”
“But why is saying what you think so rare?”
“Because there are consequences,” Harriet said.
“Huge consequences,” Walter agreed.
From a TV in the corner Elizabeth said, “It looks like we have time today to take a question from our studio audience. Yes—you there, in the lavender dress.”
A woman stood up, beaming. “Yes, hello, my name is Edna Flattistein and I’m from China Lake? I just want to say, I love the show, and I especially loved what you said about being grateful for food, and I just wondered if you have a favorite grace you recite before each meal, to thank our Lord and Savior for the bounty! I’d love to hear it! Thank you!”
Elizabeth shielded her eyes as if to get a better look at Edna. “Hello, Edna,” she said, “and thanks for your question. The answer is no; I don’t have a favorite grace. In fact, I don’t say grace at all.”
Standing in the office, both Walter and Harriet paled.
“Please,” Walter whispered. “Don’t say it.”
“Because I’m an atheist,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly.
“Thar she blows,” Harriet said.
“In other words, I don’t believe in God,” added Elizabeth as the audience gasped.
“Wait. Is that rare?” Madeline piped up. “Is not believing in God one of those rare things?”
“But I do believe in the people who made the food possible,” Elizabeth continued. “The farmers, the pickers, the truckers, the grocery store shelf stockers. But most of all, I believe in you, Edna. Because you made the meal that nourishes your family. Because of you, a new generation flourishes. Because of you, others live.”
She paused, checking the clock, then turned directly to the camera. “That’s all we have time for today. I hope you’ll join me tomorrow as we explore the fascinating world of temperature and how it affects flavor.” Then she cocked her head slightly to the left, almost as if she were considering whether she’d gone too far or not far enough. “Children, set the table,” she said with extra resolution. “Your mother needs a moment to herself.”
And within a few seconds, Walter’s phone began to ring and did not stop.
Chapter 33
Faith
In 1960, people did not go on television and say they didn’t believe in God and expect to be on television much longer. As proof, Walter’s phone was soon filled with threats from sponsors and viewers who wanted Elizabeth Zott fired, jailed, and/or stoned to death. The latter came from self-proclaimed people of God—the same God that preached tolerance and forgiveness.
“Goddammit, Elizabeth,” Walter said, having slipped Harriet and Madeline out the side door ten minutes earlier. “Some things are just better left unsaid!” They were sitting in Elizabeth’s dressing room, her yellow-checked apron still wound firmly around her narrow waist. “You have every right to believe what you want to believe, but you shouldn’t force your belief on others, especially not on national television.”
“How did I force my belief on others?” she asked, surprised.
“You know what I mean.”
“Edna Flattistein asked me a direct question and I answered it. I’m glad she feels she can express her belief in God and I welcome her right to do so. But I should be extended the same courtesy. Plenty of people don’t believe in God. Some believe in astrology or tarot cards. Harriet believes if you blow on dice, you’ll get better numbers at Yahtzee.”