Chapter Thirty-Four
The following day’s breakfast was the first meal Alfred had eaten in the boardinghouse in nearly a week, and he was famished. Hilary was generous with feeding him, offering him anything his old cook could bake, roast, or boil and even taking him to dine one evening at The Tremont House after the last set of sketches had been finished. But his cook’s meats were bland and the potatoes dry. Alfred missed Mrs. Poplar’s cooking, and as he sat down in his seat, allowing himself a moment to dwell in the space before picking up his fork, he realized how much he had missed her company as well.
“Eggs and sausage, dear,” she announced as she set a plate in front of him. “And toast with fresh preserves.”
“Smells wonderful,” Mathias added as he circled the table to take his seat.
