The Awakening (Montgomery/Taggert 11)

As Amanda started down the stairs again, she vowed she’d try harder to please Dr. Montgomery and therefore please Taylor.

Chapter Four

Hank was late for dinner and he felt Taylor’s cold displeasure as soon as he walked in the door. Was this house run like a military school? Again, J. Harker did not appear and it was just the three of them eating. If you could call what was on the plate eating. He’d been wrong about the menu. It was boiled chicken, boiled rice and boiled beets.

He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “You feed your hands this well? No wonder unionists are choosing you to picket.”

Taylor gave him a look to freeze. “It is better for the body to eat lightly. Amanda and I constantly fight gluttony.”

“You’ve won,” Hank said and pushed his plate away. “You mind if I’m excused? I have some reading to do.”

“Amanda is finished also,” Taylor said. “She would like to show you the almond orchard.”

“That’s all right. I’ve seen a lot of the ranch today.” He got out of his chair and started toward the door.

Taylor gave Amanda a glare that let her know she was to follow the professor. With a yearning look toward her half-eaten food, she followed Dr. Montgomery.

Hank stopped when he heard her behind him. “Afraid I’ll see something I shouldn’t?”

“I have no idea what you mean, Dr. Montgomery,” she said honestly.

“You wouldn’t know where the kitchen was, would you?”

“Through there,” she said, pointing, then followed him. She had not been in the kitchen for years, not since Taylor had found her there one day eating milk and cookies. He had been horrified at her impending obesity.

In the center of the big kitchen was an oak table covered with many dishes: roast beef, gravy, at least five vegetables, yeast rolls, butter, fruit salad, green salad, and on a counter were three kinds of cake. The servants were sitting down to dinner, food halfway to their mouths when they stopped at the sight of Hank and Amanda.

“Miss Amanda!” the cook gasped and sprang to her feet.

Hank just gaped at the food. “Mind if I join you?”

“No!” Amanda said, knowing that Taylor would be furious with her if she allowed him to sit with the servants. “I mean—”

The cook, who had been with the family since Amanda was a baby, knew a great deal of what was going on. She also knew what this big, strapping, healthy Dr. Montgomery had been given to eat today. “I’ll fix you a plate,” she said to Hank.

“Yes,” was all he could say, his mouth watering. “And from now on, I want real meals.”

She smiled at him. “If Mr. Taylor will allow—”

“I will allow it,” Hank said, taking the heaping platter of food from her.

“Miss Amanda?” the cook said, holding out an empty plate.

Amanda didn’t remember having seen so much food in her life and she felt fairly faint for wanting it. But Taylor wouldn’t approve; he didn’t like plump women. “No, thank you,” she said at last.

“All right,” Hank said, “take me to the almond orchard or someplace where I can sit down.”

Amanda went out the back door behind Hank, leaving the delicious smells behind her and following his fragrant plate like a hungry dog.

“There,” Hank said, his mouth full and pointing with a loaded fork toward the little summerhouse. It was a floor, a roof and four latticed posts, and inside seats all around.

She followed him into the summerhouse and sat opposite him and all she was aware of was the smell of the food.

“You aren’t going to tell me when this was built?” Hank asked, wolfing down roast beef. “Or what kind of wood this is?”

“It was built in 1903, right after my parents and I moved here. It is made of cypress and is an exact copy of an English gazebo my mother saw in a magazine.”

“Oh. Sorry. I guess you don’t like to talk about your mother.”