The Gallant South- Part One

Chapter II- October 1, 1912

        The breeze that blew through Cora's room in the morning was a mystery until she discovered that the window above her desk was wide open, and there was a light breeze blowing through the room. She rolled over and rubbed her eyes until she could properly see again, and then lay for another minute enjoying the breeze. After that, she decided to see why the window was open, so she walked around until she found Cecelia in the dining room, reading from a book sitting on the table.
        "Good morning, Miss Heiler," Cecelia welcomed Cora as she walked into the dining room. Cora nodded back and sat down. "Just Cora will suffice. Cecelia, do you know why my desk window was open?" Cora asked, regarding her kindly, though she noticed that Cecelia was gaping at the fact that she was only dressed in a nightgown and not a morning wrapper or dress. Cora shrugged it off.
         "Well Cora, I went outside this morning to check the thermometer, and there was the most pleasant and warm of breezes, so I thought I would air out this house with the breeze. I've the balcony doors and kitchen door open as well." Cecelia explained, nodding towards the kitchen where Cora could see that the door was indeed propped open with a block of wood. The lace curtain that covered the door window was lightly blowing, and the papers on the counter would have flown off if it weren't for the paperweight. Even still, the breeze was nice.
        "Where is everyone else?" Cora asked, looking around the empty dining room and kitchen. She could see there was no one in the ballroom either.
        "I believe Masterson and Henderson are still asleep, and Jim is around here somewhere. What would you like for breakfast?" Cecelia asked, standing up quickly and putting the book down on the table. She flounced out her dress and fixed her hair in an effort to look presentable, though there was no one else there, and Cora thought she looked just fine.
        "Oh, I'll just make something quickly," Cora said, standing up herself and walking into the kitchen with Cecelia following in confusion. Cora opened the refrigerator and found a full egg carton. She took out the carton and placed it next to the stovetop before retrieving a skillet from the cabinet and turning on one of the stove eyes. Cecelia stood dumbfounded behind her.
        "What are you doing?" She asked in confusion.
        "Making breakfast. How does scrambled eggs sound?" Cora asked, placing the skillet down on the stove and waiting for it to heat up. Once it did, she poured vegetable oil into the skillet and watched it sizzle while she listened for Cecelia to reply to her question.
        "They...why are you making breakfast?" Jim asked, walking into the kitchen, his wide-eyes planted on Cora and the skillet.
        "I had the same question," Cecelia replied, still staring in shock at the scene laid out in front of her, which made Cora laugh. "I was just gonna make something quick since it's already nine. I'll need to get ready for brunch soon," she explained. Jim nodded and walked over to a cabinet, where he pulled out a loaf of bread wrapped in paper. He set it down on the island and sliced off pieces for everyone before putting them in the new electric toaster and wrapping the loaf back up.
        "We have butter, yes?" Jim asked, looking through the refrigerator. Cecelia nodded. "I saw Masterson put it away yesterday. Why, can you not find it?" She asked.
        "Oh, here I have it!" Cora exclaimed, holding up the stick of butter and the butter knife she'd been using to drop pieces of butter into the skillet. "Do you need it?"
        "Oh no, not until the bread is done. You keep using it," Jim said, waving her off. She nodded and went back to cooking the eggs. It was around this time that Masteron walked into the kitchen, saw Cora making breakfast in her nightgown, and laughed so hard he nearly fell to the floor. Cecelia backed away to avoid him falling on her, which made Cora and Jim laugh as well. It was, after all, an interesting spectacle to witness. Imagine walking into a kitchen as a servant only to see a high-society first class lady cooking her own breakfast without an apron and wearing only a nightgown, her hair and makeup not even fixed. It was a sight to see. When Henderson suddenly walked through the back door, his hands gloved and covered in dirt and leaves, he almost fainted from the sight of it.