with brushed-brass fixtures holding crystals of the palest pink, which coordinated with lamps of various sizes and at least a dozen electric wall sconces, all of them made from brushed-brass and blown glass so faintly and delicately pink that the color was nearly imperceptible. Without these fairly feminine touches, the room might have seemed overpoweringly masculine with its granite fireplaces, and dark rugs and woven tapestries in various jewel tones.
Once we’d arrived back at the kitchen, Hazel, who’d continued with her polite-yet-very-businesslike demeanor throughout the tour, opened a kitchen drawer, removed a plain white envelope, and handed it to me. “This is spending money so that you may purchase from the shops anything you may want or need that you didn’t find in your room. I need to go finish my cleaning now. Cook will be in with your breakfast shortly. Have a pleasant day.”
Without the trace of a smile on her face, she breezed out of the room before I could even finish saying thanks and you, too .
I sat down at the circular kitchen table, wondering exactly where my breakfast would be brought from , since I myself was the only one in the kitchen. During our ground-floor tour, Hazel hadn’t taken me through a swinging door at the end of a short hallway on one side of the kitchen, though, making me think that maybe this door led to some sort of a commercial kitchen where the cook worked.
Confirming my thinking, within moments, a tall, large woman in dark pants and a white chef’s jacket bustled through the swinging door, holding a tray with various silver-lidded plates and dishes aloft. “Good morning!”
Finally , I thought. A genuinely friendly greeting for the first time since I’d been thawed.
I returned the greeting, smiling, and the woman, who was somewhere around sixty, began taking the covered dishes from the tray and setting them on a place mat in front of me, introducing herself as Mary Hayward.
“Everyone just calls me Cook, though, and I mean everyone. Even people in the village I don’t cook for, which is everyone, since I cook for Commander Blackthorn’s household only.”
Friendly and chatty. I loved Cook already.
I introduced myself and asked if she’d like to join me at the table. “If you’re not very busy right now.”
Blue eyes twinkling, Cook set the now-empty tray on the table and took a seat beside me. “Well, I’d love to. Thank you. And let me tell you something. Most times, unless Commander Blackthorn is hosting a dinner for his men and their wives or something like that, I’m not very busy. Cooking only for the commander and my fellow staff members doesn’t give me nearly enough to do, which I don’t like. So I, for one, am very happy to have you here.”
I paused in taking the silver lid off the largest plate, setting it back down. “About that... Why, exactly, do most people here in the village seem very... not happy to have me here? Including Cormack himself. I mean, from a run-in with AntiCormack yesterday, I’ve been able to gather that Cormack didn’t want me thawed at this time or something, something having to do with this being the ‘tenth year’ or something, but-”
“I’m sorry; I forgot your coffee and juice. Be right back.”
Cook bounced up from her seat and out of the kitchen, and I sighed, knowing that her sudden remembering of beverages had likely been less about beverages and more about her being uncomfortable with the subject of our conversation.
I took the lids off the various plates and dishes in front of me and tucked into a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, thick slices of ham, whole-wheat toast, and a colorful fruit salad with some sort of heavenly, lightly sweet glaze that held just a hint of mint, which took the deliciousness of juicy, fresh fruit to a whole new level for me.
Cook soon returned with a tray containing coffee, juice, and a tiny silver cream pitcher with matching tiny sugar bowl, and set these items by my
Once we’d arrived back at the kitchen, Hazel, who’d continued with her polite-yet-very-businesslike demeanor throughout the tour, opened a kitchen drawer, removed a plain white envelope, and handed it to me. “This is spending money so that you may purchase from the shops anything you may want or need that you didn’t find in your room. I need to go finish my cleaning now. Cook will be in with your breakfast shortly. Have a pleasant day.”
Without the trace of a smile on her face, she breezed out of the room before I could even finish saying thanks and you, too .
I sat down at the circular kitchen table, wondering exactly where my breakfast would be brought from , since I myself was the only one in the kitchen. During our ground-floor tour, Hazel hadn’t taken me through a swinging door at the end of a short hallway on one side of the kitchen, though, making me think that maybe this door led to some sort of a commercial kitchen where the cook worked.
Confirming my thinking, within moments, a tall, large woman in dark pants and a white chef’s jacket bustled through the swinging door, holding a tray with various silver-lidded plates and dishes aloft. “Good morning!”
Finally , I thought. A genuinely friendly greeting for the first time since I’d been thawed.
I returned the greeting, smiling, and the woman, who was somewhere around sixty, began taking the covered dishes from the tray and setting them on a place mat in front of me, introducing herself as Mary Hayward.
“Everyone just calls me Cook, though, and I mean everyone. Even people in the village I don’t cook for, which is everyone, since I cook for Commander Blackthorn’s household only.”
Friendly and chatty. I loved Cook already.
I introduced myself and asked if she’d like to join me at the table. “If you’re not very busy right now.”
Blue eyes twinkling, Cook set the now-empty tray on the table and took a seat beside me. “Well, I’d love to. Thank you. And let me tell you something. Most times, unless Commander Blackthorn is hosting a dinner for his men and their wives or something like that, I’m not very busy. Cooking only for the commander and my fellow staff members doesn’t give me nearly enough to do, which I don’t like. So I, for one, am very happy to have you here.”
I paused in taking the silver lid off the largest plate, setting it back down. “About that... Why, exactly, do most people here in the village seem very... not happy to have me here? Including Cormack himself. I mean, from a run-in with AntiCormack yesterday, I’ve been able to gather that Cormack didn’t want me thawed at this time or something, something having to do with this being the ‘tenth year’ or something, but-”
“I’m sorry; I forgot your coffee and juice. Be right back.”
Cook bounced up from her seat and out of the kitchen, and I sighed, knowing that her sudden remembering of beverages had likely been less about beverages and more about her being uncomfortable with the subject of our conversation.
I took the lids off the various plates and dishes in front of me and tucked into a big breakfast of scrambled eggs, thick slices of ham, whole-wheat toast, and a colorful fruit salad with some sort of heavenly, lightly sweet glaze that held just a hint of mint, which took the deliciousness of juicy, fresh fruit to a whole new level for me.
Cook soon returned with a tray containing coffee, juice, and a tiny silver cream pitcher with matching tiny sugar bowl, and set these items by my
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