Read Online In Search of a Memory (Truly Yours Digital Editions) by Pamela Griffin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pamela Griffin
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delicious scent of warm oats she smelled upon arriving at the tent grew stronger.
“You’re late!”
Angel winced, but Cassie smiled. “Millie, this is her first day. Be nice. Angel, meet Millie. Don’t let her boss you around.” She spoke to Angel with a teasing wink to Millie. “She’s known for throwing her weight far and wide.”
“You better just watch yourself, girlie.” The grated tone belonging to the rail-thin woman didn’t come across as amused. “Or you might find sand in your coffee ‘stead of sugar.”
Angel regarded the older woman with shock, but Cassie laughed. “We all joke with one another around here. You’ll get used to us soon enough.”
“Humph,” the taciturn cook responded, but before Millie turned away, Angel thought she detected a smile on the worn brown face.
Cassie disappeared beyond the canvas. Angel wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never lived in an environment that tossed around banter as a means to entertain and not hurt feelings. At her aunt’s, she kept her thoughts to herself to avoid being criticized or having her feelings crushed. Still unsure of her footing in such a strange, new world, she kept silent, observing her fellow carnies.
Millie went back to work scooping creamy hot oats from a huge black pot and ladling the porridge into bowls. Angel was put in charge of making toast on a wire tray over the fire as Millie showed her. Since that was the sum total of food products Nettie had taught her to make, Angel felt relieved she wouldn’t seem totally ignorant at her new job.
“We don’t have a lot of the usual kitchen fare, as you can see, since you cain’t very well pick up an oven and the pipes that go with it and move them ‘round from place to place,” Millie explained in her raspy voice. “There’s a small stove on the train, but I do most of my cookin’ over a slow fire. Like the rich flavor it brings. I can make any meal that goes in a pot. Cabbage stew. Potato soup. You name it; I can cook it. And when we have meat or poultry, they clamor for my pies.” She beamed with pride as she poured coffee into tins that Angel then set on a tray to disperse among the carnies. As Angel worked, her initial nervousness dissipated, and she relaxed, enjoying her first morning there, even if she had yet to sit down and take her first bite.
She returned to the preparation area, tray empty, and refilled it with platters of toast, a rich golden brown, she noted with satisfaction. Concentrating on the success of her labors as she walked, she set the platter in the center of one end of the table.
“There you go, Blackie. Golden brown and not one speck of black, just the way you like it.” She lifted her smiling gaze from the platter to where Blackie should be sitting… and inhaled so fast she thought she might choke, nearly swallowing her tongue.
The tall, dark stranger sat in Blackie’s spot. Amusement danced in his rich dark eyes.
Blackie waved in acknowledgment to her from farther down the bench, where he’d taken another place at the table next to an extremely tall, bearded gentleman.
“Wh–what are you doing here?” she asked her persistent follower once she found her voice.
“And a good morning to you, Miss Mornay.” Roland’s straight white teeth flashed in a charming smile. “The toast looks delicious. Deep golden brown. And you’re right—that’s just the way I like it.”
“I asked what you’re doing here. This is where the workers eat. You shouldn’t be here.”
At her soft, insistent words, gritted through her teeth, those at that table quieted in curiosity.
“Actually, I should. I’m doing what every other carny is. Enjoying a hearty breakfast before taking on my duties.”
“Your duties?” she gasped in mounting horror. For the first time she noticed his fine three-piece suit was missing. In its place he wore common clothes: a long-sleeved white
“You’re late!”
Angel winced, but Cassie smiled. “Millie, this is her first day. Be nice. Angel, meet Millie. Don’t let her boss you around.” She spoke to Angel with a teasing wink to Millie. “She’s known for throwing her weight far and wide.”
“You better just watch yourself, girlie.” The grated tone belonging to the rail-thin woman didn’t come across as amused. “Or you might find sand in your coffee ‘stead of sugar.”
Angel regarded the older woman with shock, but Cassie laughed. “We all joke with one another around here. You’ll get used to us soon enough.”
“Humph,” the taciturn cook responded, but before Millie turned away, Angel thought she detected a smile on the worn brown face.
Cassie disappeared beyond the canvas. Angel wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never lived in an environment that tossed around banter as a means to entertain and not hurt feelings. At her aunt’s, she kept her thoughts to herself to avoid being criticized or having her feelings crushed. Still unsure of her footing in such a strange, new world, she kept silent, observing her fellow carnies.
Millie went back to work scooping creamy hot oats from a huge black pot and ladling the porridge into bowls. Angel was put in charge of making toast on a wire tray over the fire as Millie showed her. Since that was the sum total of food products Nettie had taught her to make, Angel felt relieved she wouldn’t seem totally ignorant at her new job.
“We don’t have a lot of the usual kitchen fare, as you can see, since you cain’t very well pick up an oven and the pipes that go with it and move them ‘round from place to place,” Millie explained in her raspy voice. “There’s a small stove on the train, but I do most of my cookin’ over a slow fire. Like the rich flavor it brings. I can make any meal that goes in a pot. Cabbage stew. Potato soup. You name it; I can cook it. And when we have meat or poultry, they clamor for my pies.” She beamed with pride as she poured coffee into tins that Angel then set on a tray to disperse among the carnies. As Angel worked, her initial nervousness dissipated, and she relaxed, enjoying her first morning there, even if she had yet to sit down and take her first bite.
She returned to the preparation area, tray empty, and refilled it with platters of toast, a rich golden brown, she noted with satisfaction. Concentrating on the success of her labors as she walked, she set the platter in the center of one end of the table.
“There you go, Blackie. Golden brown and not one speck of black, just the way you like it.” She lifted her smiling gaze from the platter to where Blackie should be sitting… and inhaled so fast she thought she might choke, nearly swallowing her tongue.
The tall, dark stranger sat in Blackie’s spot. Amusement danced in his rich dark eyes.
Blackie waved in acknowledgment to her from farther down the bench, where he’d taken another place at the table next to an extremely tall, bearded gentleman.
“Wh–what are you doing here?” she asked her persistent follower once she found her voice.
“And a good morning to you, Miss Mornay.” Roland’s straight white teeth flashed in a charming smile. “The toast looks delicious. Deep golden brown. And you’re right—that’s just the way I like it.”
“I asked what you’re doing here. This is where the workers eat. You shouldn’t be here.”
At her soft, insistent words, gritted through her teeth, those at that table quieted in curiosity.
“Actually, I should. I’m doing what every other carny is. Enjoying a hearty breakfast before taking on my duties.”
“Your duties?” she gasped in mounting horror. For the first time she noticed his fine three-piece suit was missing. In its place he wore common clothes: a long-sleeved white
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