Bonus Chapter: Raymond, the Cook
RAYMOND the cook thought to himself:
Was that really love, after all?
“Chef! The meat for tonight’s dinner is shot!”
“Whoever was on meat duty’s dead after service! Switch it up—we’re running the B menu!”
“Yes, chef!”
Somehow, Raymond had found himself aboard a squalid pirate ship, serving meals to rough-tempered men.
He loved the sea but hated to fight.
Leaving behind the restaurant where he’d worked as a live-in apprentice since boyhood, he leapt aboard the pirate ship and let it carry him far away.
Day after day, night after night, the endless blue sea stretched out before him, like his dream given form, boundless and free.
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DURING the winter of Raymond’s twenty-first year, he fell overboard. Narrowly escaping being eaten by a shark, he survived, but the experience left him scarred. He gave up his life afloat and returned to land. Twenty-one, he figured, was as good an age as any to leave all that behind.
It was during a night out drinking with some of his pirate mates that the following conversation caught his ear.
“Did ye hear? The Olzons be lookin’ for a young lad to take up the post of family cook.”
“The Olzons? That rich merchant family? Hold on—isn’t that where…”
“Aye. ’Tis where dwells the Monstrous Miss…”
The Monstrous Miss.
For whatever reason, the words lodged themselves in a quiet corner of Raymond’s mind.
He went for an interview, passed with flying colors, and soon found himself thinking he might’ve just landed the post to carry him through the rest of his days. The ingredients at his disposal were all top-notch, there were no rough-tempered men except on occasion, and the pay was nearly double. Not to mention the patent absence of sharks.
All this—the excitement, the sense of something new—came even before he met the young miss who would change his life.
The first hint that a younger human was on the premises came when the head maid, Martha, asked him for a sweet treat.
When he asked, she told him it was for the family’s young daughter. A girl of just thirteen, she had an unusual ailment and rarely left her room. As for leaving the estate itself, it seemed she no longer did so at all.
Raymond wasn’t much of a baker, so he asked an acquaintance for a recipe and a few tips. He whipped up what he could, handed it off to Martha, and watched her disappear, only to return a short while later with a clean plate, devoured to every last crumb.
The same thing happened a few more times until, one day, the plate came back with a note. Thank you. It was delicious.
Following that, it was a year later that she finally appeared—a girl wrapped in bandages, nervously poking her head into the kitchen. From the gaps, Raymond could just make out that her skin was rough, bumpy, and brown. Whatever she had, it was no mild thing.
“Are you…Mr. Raymond?”
Her voice was soft. Pretty.
“That’s me. I’m the cook around here.”
“I just wanted to thank you personally for all the sweets you’ve made for me. Our previous cook used to add a bit too much sugar, but yours are just right.”
He could tell she was smiling. And that was enough to bring a grin to his face.
After all, there wasn’t a cook alive who didn’t love hearing a compliment about their cooking.
“If there’s anything you like, I’d be happy to see if I can’t make it for you, milady.”
“Thank you.”
That was just the beginning. Slowly but surely, bit by bit, the two became good friends.
Years later, Raymond, the cook, had well and truly cemented himself as a member of the household, holding the unique distinction of being the man closest to young Sophie, who wasn’t family.
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RAYMOND had come to realize he was the Olzon family’s “B menu.”
Nobody had said as much—not even hinted at it—but of the fact, he was entirely sure.
The menu the kitchen switched to whenever there was an issue with the ingredients, or if the original menu, for one reason or another, became impossible to carry out, had another, much less flattering name: the backup plan.
Only then would he appear.
When the young daughter of the family came of marriageable age, and then passed it.
When she, all alone in that room, turned twenty, then twenty-five, then thirty.
When it seemed no one else would come to take her hand.
Raymond had no doubt about it. Johann had put out the call, recruited a young man, and put him within reaching distance of his daughter. Someone whom she wouldn’t hate. Someone who wouldn’t hate her. Someone who’d stay—because of the pay.
He didn’t think the actions of this doting father were underhanded. Perhaps he would’ve if Johann had ever told him, “Don’t marry,” “Stay single,” or any variation of the sort, but he hadn’t.
He was just insurance. A bit of peace of mind.
Knowing this, Raymond only shrugged and went back to work.
After all, the ingredients were top-notch, there were no rough-tempered men except on occasion, and the pay was nearly double. Not to mention, he was rather fond of the young miss.
Perhaps he pitied her.
Perhaps he found a person in need in her and decided he could be of use.
But if anyone asked him whether it was love, he thought he would have hesitated to say yes.
He didn’t have the passion of the man who had spirited the young miss away.
He’d only ever wished the young miss would say his food was delicious.
He’d only ever wished that she would smile.
Like a ship swaying gently over calm seas, his feelings for her stirred only faintly. Quietly.
“Raymond.”
He thought he heard an echo of that clear, soft voice.
He turned to see only lace curtains gently fluttering in the breeze.