Anne:
I passed the bench in the kitchen garden three times, going back and forth, inside of an hour, and M'sieu Khan didn't budge as much as an inch in all that time. He looked as if he had a bellyful of matters to think over, and they were giving him indigestion.
I was feeling a touch guilty over the hundred extra francs I'd tacked on his bill, being brassed off over how close he'd questioned me at our first meeting. I'd thought for sure he would have taken it up with M'sieu Hussenot, and gotten half of it knocked off the bill. It seemed as if he'd paid it without a murmur of complaint.
That was why, on my way back to the kitchen with a basket of carrots and parsley, I stopped and asked him, "Is somewhat the matter, sir? You looks as though you're troubled.
"I? No, Madame. I thank you for your concern, however." he returned.
"If you're sure…Might you care for a cup of tea in my kitchen, sir?"
He thought it over a space. "Will it show up on my bill?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye and his voice.
I flushed. "No, sir, it will not."
"Then I will accept." He followed me back to the kitchen.
"I needs the parsley now, Mam!" sang out my little boy. "It's time to squidge the meat together!" He and Minna were poised over the bowl with clean hands and clean aprons on.
"Just let me rinse and chop it, dearheart." I told him. "Amelié, put the kettle on, there's a love. Happens as it'll take a while for that tea, M'sieu Khan. Sit down and make yourself to home."
"Thank you, Madame."
There wasn't much I could do with that load of fatty chickens but prepare them in ways to get rid of the most grease. We'd skinned and boned the lot, trimmed off as much fat as we could, and ran it through the grinder. Some of it became sausage; some was going to be meatballs in soup. That was what Erik and Minna was waiting on.
I swept the chopped parsley into the big bowl with the rest of the ingredients. "Squidgy!" cried Erik, and reached in with both hands, squeezing ground meat out from between his fingers like pink worms. I knows what children like, and I never knew one as didn't like to make mud pies. Mixing up meatballs and meatloaf with their bare hands is the next best thing to it. Soon he and Minna were filling a baking pan with balls.
I poured boiling water over the mint leaves in my biggest teapot, and got out cups and saucers. "When you be done there, and your hands is clean, I've got a surprise for you two—and Ame, too."
"What is it?" asked my son.
"If I told before it was time, it wouldn't be no surprise, now would it, love?"
"Aww!" he groaned.
I made a dishful of soapsuds, and got out a spool of soft wire and the cutters. I cut six lengths, and set about putting big round loops in one end of three of them, and small loops in their other ends. The magazine I got told all about this, and other things for children to play at.
"I'm all done, Mam! And I got clean hands, look!" He stretched out two damp and shining palms for me to see. I kissed one and then the other, smelling soap and not meat. Good; he'd washed. He giggled.
"I'm ready, too, Aunt." Ame chimed in.
"We got to go out in the yard for me to show you." I led the three of them outside. "See these?" I held out the three wands. "You dip the big end in the soapsuds, and blow through the loop, like this—," and I showed them.
A stream of bubbles floated out over the yard, shimmering like rainbows.
"Ohhh!" It came out of all three throats as if they was one. "Can I do that, Mam?"
"I want a turn, too!" said Ame, and Minna opened and closed her hand as if to ask for it.
"That's why I got three here." I said, and passed the first to Erik.
"If you blow slow, you can make bigger bubbles." I showed Ame, and gave her a wand.
"And if you wave it not too fast or slow, you can make lots and lots of little ones." I gave the last to Minna. "And these three bits of wire is for you to make your own in different shapes, so's you can see what happens if you make a square or a triangle to blow bubbles with."
"That's easy!" scoffed Erik. "You'd get square and triangle bubbles!"
"You'll have to see, now, won't you, love?" I left them to it, and went back in to M'sieu Khan. Sophie was napping by the door, and Claude was off sneaking a smoke with one of the stable hands. He didn't know I knew he did it; I was going to have to have a talk with him about it. Smoking kills the palate. It's not a vice for a cook to have.
I poured the tea. "Thank you, Madame Touchet." he said. "Yours is a very happy family."
"That's true, sir, and I thank you. Would you care for a piece of almond shortbread?"
"Thank you."
Out in the yard, I could hear Truffle's happy bark. I looked out to see her leaping around and trying to bite the bubbles. "Wheee!" shrieked my boy. I smiled to myself.
"Perhaps now you might unburden yourself a bit, sir. I don't know nobody as isn't the better for talking about their worries." I sat down with my own cup.
"You have me, Madame." He sounded resigned, but with that twinkle under it still. "You ply me with tea and sweets, and I find I cannot resist…I am worried about my friend, M'sieu Makepeace."
"Has he taken a turn for the worse so soon? Poor man, I was in hopes as he was on the mend."
"Physically he is improving—I was thinking of his heart and spirit, and that is a different matter. But I don't want to take you from your work."
"I've a quarter of an hour as is yours if you want to bend my ear." I told him.
"Bend your ear?" he asked.
"Talk to me, I mean." I said. "Is his trouble something as our Father Anselm could help him with?"
"I fear not…M'sieu Makepeace is a man without a family—or, at this moment, an occupation. Idleness does not suit him, nor does solitude. Together, they are the worst things in the world for him—he dwells on dark matters, and broods himself into morbid humors. I am the only friend he has—and I cannot alleviate his sorrows. I can only minister to his mind and his body—when he will permit it."
"What manner of occupation has he had before?" I asked.
"He's a musician." M'sieu Khan took a swallow of tea. "But I fear his heart has gone out of music."
"That's sad…I don't know what I'd do if ever my heart went out of cooking. Turn my face to the wall, most like. What do you think would help him?"
"In all honesty, Madame? I think he ought to marry, and have a family—but prudently. He was close to it at one time. Alas, the young lady was too highly strung. She rejected him—I think if they had married, it would not have prospered. He—needs a wife who would have something to give in return."
"That's a great shame. What sort of woman would you like to see him marry?" I had the inkling as I was being led somewheres. Had M'sieu Makepeace sent him here to sound me out, to find if I was willing to warm up his bed for him of nights?
"Someone capable—warm-hearted, generous-hearted—with a deep well of strength to draw on. He has a great deal to give—his heart could encompass the world, if the world would only have him. I would like to see him marry someone a great deal like you—but you are already married. I haven't forgotten. I would not want you to break your vows for anything. Or anyone. Not for anything would I have you love anyone but the man whose name you bear—but…" He let that trail off. "I will bid you good day, and take my leave of you, Madame Touchet."
He left then, and I was left with an uneasy tickle in the pit of my stomach. I don't know just what he was telling me, underneath, but it made me shiver.
Then Erik burst in, all excitement. "Mam! I made a square wand, and it blows round bubbles, too! Why's that, Mam?"
"I don't know, love, indeed I don't." There was a lot I didn't know…
Meatball Soup (which pleases kids from beginning to end, without fail);
Meatballs:
1 cup seasoned breadcrumbs
½ cup parmesan cheese
¼ cup chopped parsley, dried, or ½ cup, fresh
2 tablespoons water—if using dried parsley, 1 tablespoon if fresh
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 pound ground chicken, turkey, or ground beef, as you prefer
1 large egg
Cooking spray.
Soup:
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
3 cloves of garlic, minced
1 cup chopped carrot
½ cup chopped celery
2 cups tomato juice or vegetable juice blend such as V-8 juice
½ cup chopped bell pepper
½ cup frozen green beans or peas
½ cup frozen sweet corn
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
4 cups or 2 cans broth—chicken if using chicken or turkey, beef if using beef
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Prepare meatballs by having a small child squidge together all the meatball ingredients (except the cooking spray) in a large bowl by hand. Make sure his or her hands are clean before hand. (If you have no small children on hand, you will have to do this yourself.)
Spray a 13 x 9 baking pan with cooking spray, and have it close by.
Shape the meat into meatballs about 1 inch in diameter, and put them in the prepared baking pan. Bake them at 375 F for twenty minutes. If greasy, drain on paper towels like bacon.
Prepare soup by heating the oil in a large soup pot, and sauté the onion, garlic, carrots and celery until they are translucent. Add the meatballs and all the rest of the ingredients. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 15 minutes.
Serve with hearty bread.
A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry this update took so long to get here, but I went on a trip to New York City this week.
Josette: I'm doing my best! That's for you, too, Sarah Crawford!
Bella—you still out there? I've missed you lately.
Lucia: Yes, little Erik does lighten up the story. I really enjoy thinking up what he does and says, even when his role in a chapter isn't that big.
Nota Lone: How did the finals go? Sorry about the headache…
C Dragonstone: Thanks! Did you finish it? (Does the puppy dog eyes thing)
Thornwitch: Whoa! I would love that raspberry pie recipe. My e-mail is Gevaisa AOL . com.
ButterflyGuitar: The journey to Lyon will begin next chapter, I promise.
An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin: OOOokay… (backs away slowly)
Allegratree: Wow—what dedication! Thanks! As far as Erik noticing Madame Hussenot's hair color—my husband is very anti-hair color and anti-makeup, and occasionally mentions an especially unflattering example, so I threw that in. I think Erik is always making aesthetic judgments, too.
Hello to Awoman—sorry I couldn't post so fast this time. How have you been? I've missed you.
Hello, HDKingsbury—and I really will sit down and email you soon. Possibly when pigs fly, the way things have been lately. :p
Alittlerayofsunshine: You live up to your penname, as far as I'm concerned. :-)
And let me not forget Phantom Raver! Hello!