Eleanor Tatum

Egad!

Where Trevor Coffman learns his world is not the only one.

Page 15…The delightful smell of frying bacon woke Trevor to a gray mist that promised to burn off in the warm sunshine. He thanked God it wasn’t a cold drizzle promising more.

He managed surprisingly well without his valet bustling about. Doing without was a recent necessity, so leaving his valet in Boston during this expedition was his way of adjusting. He had only brought him with him to impress the Cranfield family. He wasn’t destitute, just close to it.

Once downstairs, a waiter informed him that breakfast was served as an outdoor buffet. He followed the given directions and found a large canvas tent covering two long wooden tables supporting a feast of roasted meats and fresh breads. There was fresh fruit which he supposed had been on last night’s train. His hand hesitated over a peach.

“We picked it ourselves, yesterday, from Mr. Mayweather’s farm.”

“Excuse me?” Trevor’s startled response brought an appreciated smile onto a weathered but friendly face.

“Aren’t they pretty?” She picked one out and handed it to him. “Try it, but be careful. It’s juicy.”

While holding a plate of bacon and buttered bread, he bit into the tasty treat and tried not to laugh. The juice slipped out anyway. He put down the plate, swallowed, and smiled at the sweet lady. “My gracious, that’s really very good. Thank you.”

“Oh, I like your accent! Catherine told me…” her demeanor changed abruptly. Her attitude turned to stone.

“Catherine?” Trevor found he wanted to talk the morning through with this lady, but instantly discovered why she was staring behind him in fear.

“Good morning, brother-in-law-to-be.”

“Crandfield.”

“Good God, my man, call me Edgar. We’re in the sticks! We can get away with anything. Relax.” He rudely shuffled a few serving plates around and barked, “Get some ham out here and the bread’s cold!”

Trevor stared at Edgar’s retreating back and turned back to his newest friend, ” My apologies, Madame. My associate is a bit rude this morning.”

“I take no mind to his kind and the name’s Joann, Mrs. Joann Garrett,” she gave a sweet but quick curtsey. “Anything else I can get you?” she hesitated and then added, “your Lordship.”

“No, but who’s Catherine? You mentioned earlier?”

“Catherine? No, sir, I don’t remember noting about no Catherine Please excuse me. I’d best get that ham,” she nearly ran behind the canvas sidewall of the kitchens.

Curiosity and a bit of sadness followed Trevor as he grabbed an extra peach and turned to find a seat as far as possible from Crandfield.

Some plans come together and some don’t.

Enough! More next time and I’ll practice downloading a picture of my swamp. This could take a while.