Eye of the Ocean Book 3 Ji'jin Station

Eye of the Ocean – Book 3: Ji’Jin Station
Just wanted company, she supposed when he didn't answer past a smile. The
sun brought out the white in his dark hair, palm size streaks at his temples as
though he had smoothed it down with both hands and stolen the dark away. But
the same light made his brown eyes shine: cat's eyes, as golden as Tika's. Older
and younger, softer looking. And tired, he had his arms crossed as though cold
and the lines on his face were from fatigue rather than sun-creases from riding.
She never saw him doing much of anything. A few meetings. Standing talking to
the gardeners. Or, more often, staring into nothing.
She reached for a pinch of crumpled thyme and continued testing, alternately
sprinkling and stirring-in herbs taken from an array of bowls into a pot of soup, a
trial batch. The earthy, slightly sweet taste of squash filled her mouth. She had to
close her eyes each time she tasted; the pastel pink color was too distracting.
Bland. “A shipload of squash came into Groundside Port and from the look of
our storeroom, I think we got most of it.” The entire bowl of minced hot pepper
went into the soup. “I hate squash.”
And tasted again. Was it too hot now? “Here, try this,” she said to Rit, holding
the wooden spoon out. “Too much pepper?”
His hand on hers was soft as well, they had both changed, but he had the
most. She liked him being next to her, like old times, they didn't have a chance to
see each other alone. Didn't take the chance, she corrected herself. The
exchanges between them were very deliberately public.
“Perfect,” he said and his eyes flirted with her. He'd held her hand over the
spoon well past the tasting.
He was lying about both things, she decided but shrugged and called the
Kitchen Master from what he was doing. When he arrived, Rit was looking out at
the garden, his eyes shaded by a frown. Eunni let the bowl of the wooden spoon
clunk back into the pot to capture his attention. He nodded to Pilli, but absently;
she didn't think he heard a word of the introduction.
His kitchen but outranked. Damn Rit anyway, she'd never liked that treatment;
she didn't expect Pilli to either. “More of this, then,” she said evenly, trying not to
make it worse by drawing attention to Rit's snub.
The cook sniffed. “The vegetable stock can be prepared tonight,” he said in an
officious tone as though talking of diplomacy rather than squash. And softened,
the effort at control putting sweat on his already pink face. “A one-third reduction
if you think that is adequate, and then finished in the morning. Your suggestion
that the puree be cooked separately to maintain the fresh taste...”
He had a right to be miffed at being ignored on his own turf, but he still got on
her nerves. He played favorites, but at least based his attentions on talent. The
rest of his staff, like Adela, tolerated his outbursts. Towards her though, his
bullying dripped with flattery.
Laurel Hickey www.2morrow.bc.ca