these months and more. ‘Twould be her you be hoping to hire. She’s out in the woods gathering herbs just now, but I’ll send her into the village upon her return to visit with you. It will have to be up to her to decide.”
When she came in with her basket, Chantaya noticed her mother had been weeping and it struck fear into her heart the likes she hadn’t felt in years, until her mother told her about the Bealles. She and her mother discussed the offer at length and finally decided it might be a good idea for Chantaya to try it if it would indeed be only for the dinner hour. It would possibly mean a more steady income during the long winter months when it was much more difficult to gather the fresh herbs and mushrooms in the woods. And after all, the Bealles were friends and neighbors of theirs. Surely Chantaya would be safe under their watchful care. So, Chantaya went in search of one of the boys and they went to town. As simply as that, she began to cook in the Bealle’s tavern kitchen.
Chapter 4
They had been right. Business picked up considerably when word got round about how gifted the new cook was. Business picked up even more when word got round about how beautiful the new girl at the tavern was. Diners more than doubled and travelers began to come from near and far to eat there.
At first Chantaya was anxious. Ever since her talks with Peyton and her mother she had become wary of males in general and strangers in particular, but it wasn’t long before she got used to the attention and learned to just ignore the flirting and comments that were directed toward her as she worked. More talks with her mother and Peyton and even Peyton’s father had prepared her for how to parry the innuendos and it was actually quite nice to be able to cook and have so many people enjoy it. ‘Twas much more fun to cook for a crowd than for just two. Soon Chantaya found herself looking forward to going in for those few hours at supper.
She’d been there for a few months and was completely comfortable with both her duties and the patrons when, for the first time, she questioned working away from home and her mother. A new young man had come in with some of the locals and he began to pay attention to her. She ignored him or brushed his comments off in jest, just as she always did, but then she could hear some comments that were mildly troubling.
As she served another table, she heard the fellows at the newcomer’s table say, “Leave her alone, Hershey. I’m telling you, she’s Peyton Wolfgar’s girl. Leave her be. He’s the size of a mountain.”
Chantaya went on back into the kitchen, but she worried at the comments like a dog at a bone as she continued to prepare things. Who were they talking about? It had to be her. There wasn’t any other her except Mrs. Bealle and she certainly wasn’t Peyton’s girl. Was someone out there going to truly bother her? And what was that about her being Peyton’s girl, anyway? Chantaya wasn’t Peyton’s girl. More like a little sister. That’s what they must have meant. She wished she was Peyton Wolfgar’s girl. He was the most handsome, entertaining man she’d ever known.
She wasn’t anyone’s girl. Not yet. She’d hardly even spoken to anyone unless it was someone at church or here at the tavern. Not that she wouldn’t like to be someone’s girl. She just hadn’t had the chance yet. She’d thought about it. But there wasn’t anyone who intrigued her in the slightest. Well, the middle Bertram boy was adorably cute in a puppy kind of way, but he was really the only one. And Chantaya wouldn’t have truly wanted to get very close to him, but he was handsome.
She worked about, thinking all of these thoughts and being perplexed about why someone
When she came in with her basket, Chantaya noticed her mother had been weeping and it struck fear into her heart the likes she hadn’t felt in years, until her mother told her about the Bealles. She and her mother discussed the offer at length and finally decided it might be a good idea for Chantaya to try it if it would indeed be only for the dinner hour. It would possibly mean a more steady income during the long winter months when it was much more difficult to gather the fresh herbs and mushrooms in the woods. And after all, the Bealles were friends and neighbors of theirs. Surely Chantaya would be safe under their watchful care. So, Chantaya went in search of one of the boys and they went to town. As simply as that, she began to cook in the Bealle’s tavern kitchen.
Chapter 4
They had been right. Business picked up considerably when word got round about how gifted the new cook was. Business picked up even more when word got round about how beautiful the new girl at the tavern was. Diners more than doubled and travelers began to come from near and far to eat there.
At first Chantaya was anxious. Ever since her talks with Peyton and her mother she had become wary of males in general and strangers in particular, but it wasn’t long before she got used to the attention and learned to just ignore the flirting and comments that were directed toward her as she worked. More talks with her mother and Peyton and even Peyton’s father had prepared her for how to parry the innuendos and it was actually quite nice to be able to cook and have so many people enjoy it. ‘Twas much more fun to cook for a crowd than for just two. Soon Chantaya found herself looking forward to going in for those few hours at supper.
She’d been there for a few months and was completely comfortable with both her duties and the patrons when, for the first time, she questioned working away from home and her mother. A new young man had come in with some of the locals and he began to pay attention to her. She ignored him or brushed his comments off in jest, just as she always did, but then she could hear some comments that were mildly troubling.
As she served another table, she heard the fellows at the newcomer’s table say, “Leave her alone, Hershey. I’m telling you, she’s Peyton Wolfgar’s girl. Leave her be. He’s the size of a mountain.”
Chantaya went on back into the kitchen, but she worried at the comments like a dog at a bone as she continued to prepare things. Who were they talking about? It had to be her. There wasn’t any other her except Mrs. Bealle and she certainly wasn’t Peyton’s girl. Was someone out there going to truly bother her? And what was that about her being Peyton’s girl, anyway? Chantaya wasn’t Peyton’s girl. More like a little sister. That’s what they must have meant. She wished she was Peyton Wolfgar’s girl. He was the most handsome, entertaining man she’d ever known.
She wasn’t anyone’s girl. Not yet. She’d hardly even spoken to anyone unless it was someone at church or here at the tavern. Not that she wouldn’t like to be someone’s girl. She just hadn’t had the chance yet. She’d thought about it. But there wasn’t anyone who intrigued her in the slightest. Well, the middle Bertram boy was adorably cute in a puppy kind of way, but he was really the only one. And Chantaya wouldn’t have truly wanted to get very close to him, but he was handsome.
She worked about, thinking all of these thoughts and being perplexed about why someone
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