Chapter 11
1298 Words
Geraldine’s Point of View
I stared down at the piece of paper in my hands, the one listing my assignments for the day. At the very top it said “Kitchen,” which meant I had been chosen to cook. The task was simple on paper: prepare breakfast for Master Mike. But in truth, it was a challenge that felt heavier than the apron hanging loosely around my waist.
“Your task for today is to prepare Master’s breakfast,” the cook beside me said with a sharp voice, her eyes fixed on me. She was one of the older women in charge here, and everyone simply called her Cooker.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing back to the notes given by Chief. According to him, Master Mike was notoriously difficult to please when it came to food. He had never once been satisfied with the meals prepared for him, no matter how carefully they were cooked. That fact alone made my palms sweat. I knew I couldn’t afford to fail.
I skimmed the rest of the paper in my hands. It outlined the tasks I would have to do over the course of the next few days. First, the kitchen. Then the library. The guards’ training room. The swimming pool. The garden. His office. And lastly, his room.
My eyes lingered on the last part. His room.
Why would that be on the list? His room was strictly off limits to everyone. Maybe they meant all rooms were to be cleaned, except for his? I let out a frustrated sigh. For a moment I thought I had a chance to step into the one place no one else could.
“Hey!”
I jumped when Cooker raised her voice. She had probably been calling my name for a while now.
“No daydreaming,” she scolded, narrowing her eyes at me. “Everything we do here must be done quickly and perfectly. No mistakes. No second chances.”
“I know, sister,” I muttered.
She blinked. “Did you just call me sister?”
“Yes. You look younger than me, so it feels natural to call you that. Manang sounds too old, and you don’t look old at all.”
She froze, touching her cheek as if my words had caught her off guard. “What nonsense are you saying? I’m forty-five. I’m far from young.”
I tilted my head, pretending to look at her more closely. “Really? You don’t look a day over twenty-nine.”
Her lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile, but she shook her head. “You’re such a flatterer. Save your silver tongue for the Master. Now tell me, what will you cook? You know he’s never satisfied with anything we make. If you can impress him, maybe we’ll finally have a miracle.”
Her words reminded me of what Chief had said to Asher. I knew I had to do more than just cook. I had to put my heart into it.
“Ah. I have an idea,” I said, determination flooding through me.
“Make sure it’s good,” Cooker replied, folding her arms.
I nodded slowly, then slipped the apron around me. Picking up the knife, I gave it a quick spin between my fingers, just to steady my nerves.
“Let’s get ready to cook.”
Hours seemed to pass quickly as I moved around the kitchen. My confidence grew with every stir, chop, and sizzle. By the time I was done, a small smile curved my lips. I placed the finished meal on the counter, setting it down with care.
Sister Cooker and Manang leaned closer, their noses twitching at the savory aroma. To ease their curiosity, I plated small portions for them too, adding freshly brewed coffee on the side.
“It looks simple,” Manang said skeptically, though her expression betrayed her. She was already taken in by the fragrance.
“Go on, taste it,” I offered with a grin. “If you don’t like it, I’ll gladly eat it all myself.”
They exchanged glances before taking hesitant bites. A second later, their eyes widened, and I could see their delight even before they spoke.
“I’ve never tasted fried rice like this before,” Sister Cooker exclaimed. “You really aren’t just good with words. You’re talented in the kitchen too.”
I laughed softly, a bit relieved by their reaction. “Then I suppose it’s time for Master to try.”
They both straightened up, suddenly serious again. “Good luck, Girlie,” Manang said, her tone softer this time.
With careful hands, I arranged the food on a tray. My heart beat faster as I carried it down the hallway to where Master Mike was waiting.
When I entered, his voice carried across the room, cold and impatient. “Why is the food taking so long to arrive?”
I forced a smile, though my palms grew damp with sweat. “I’m sorry, Master. But I truly poured my blood, sweat, and tears into preparing this meal just for you.”
He frowned at me, clearly unimpressed by my words. Still, I set each dish in front of him, unveiling the steaming plates and the fragrant coffee.
“What is this?” he asked flatly.
“This,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “is my special omelet paired with black and white coffee. A stir-fried rice made with fresh vegetables and tender meat, topped with a perfectly scrambled egg. The coffee was brewed here in your kitchen with the same ingredients you prefer, though I added a touch of milk to soften the bitterness. It’s a healthier, balanced breakfast. That is my specialty for today.”
He stared down at the plate, his brow furrowing. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
“A plain omelet,” he said finally, “and yet you speak as though it is extraordinary.”
I swallowed hard, but lifted my chin. “It is extraordinary, because I made it with my heart. That is why it’s special, Master.”
His eyes darkened, and he spoke my name in a low voice. “Girlie.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Manang and Sister Cooker giving me subtle signals to stop talking.
I bit my lip, lowering my gaze. “I’m sorry if I said too much. I’ll take it away. I know you don’t like plain food, especially something made by someone like me.”
I reached for the plate, but his voice stopped me.
“Touch my plate again and see what happens.”
I froze, my hand hovering over the dish. Slowly, I pulled back and met his gaze with wide, innocent eyes.
He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead as if I were giving him a headache. Sister Cooker and Manang quickly stepped forward, guiding me away.
“Step outside for now, Girlie,” Cooker whispered.
“Alright. Please eat well, Master. Stay healthy,” I said softly, pouting as I turned toward the door.
Once outside, I returned to the kitchen and sat down heavily. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. Without hesitation, I dug into the leftover food, savoring each bite. The flavors exploded in my mouth, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes in bliss.
I was halfway through gulping down water after nearly choking when the door suddenly burst open. Cooker and Manang stood there, their expressions unreadable as they stared at me.
My heart skipped a beat. “Wha—what now?”
Cooker’s lips curved into a small smile. “Master is asking for you.”
I froze, still holding my spoon mid-air. “What? Right now? But I’m eating!”
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