The Heir

Chapter 11

I awoke on Thanksgiving Day long before Mary would usually rouse me. After a quick journal entry, I rang for a maid to dress me. Young Pricilla helped me into yet another bustled, high-necked dress and briefed me on Ingrid's progress thus far. Excited for the day, I hustled to the kitchen to see how things were coming. Ingrid and her helpers were hard at work stuffing turkeys, making pies, and peeling potatoes. The vegetables, stuffing, cranberries, rolls, and the making of other dishes waited in the wings. When Ingrid saw me, she insisted that everything was okay. I did not need to worry. She had promised that this meal would be the best I had ever had, and Germans always kept their word. I assured her that I had all the faith in the world. I wanted to help in some small way.

"No need, Fraulein Rebecca," she said as she reached up a Turkey to remove the innards. "It is not proper."

"Back home, I always helped my mom," I said, trying to fight the sudden wave of homesickness. "Please, Ingrid, I won't get in the way."

"You didn't have a cook?" she asked, puzzled.

"Oh, no, we did," I said, quickly covering up my mistake. I hated it when I mixed up my real past with my cover story. "My mom just loved to cook."

Luckily, Ingrid believed me. She didn't seem to want my help, but I wanted to and had no qualms about leveraging her perceived obligation to do as I asked.

I put on a sad, homesick face and said, "Well... I guess if you don't want me."

Ingrid looked uncertain as I turned to leave.

"Wait!" Her German 'W' came out sounding like a 'V.' I turned back, hopeful. "We could use your help with the tasting. We know not these foods."

I smiled. Rolling up my sleeves, I grabbed a spare apron and set to work. For three hours I helped the kitchen staff perfect the American holiday favorites. Ingrid was glad I came along because she had the seasonings in the stuffing all wrong.

"Y'all bought enough for the staff to have dinner later, right?" I asked as I placed rolls on a baking sheet.

"Ja, Fraulein, dankeschön. We are eating after the guests leave."

"Good. I hope y'all enjoy it! How is Malcolm doing this morning? I haven't been to see him yet?"

"Better. He should be out of bed in a day or two."

"Thank the Lord. He's lucky to have you looking after him."

"It's Mr. Cunningham and you that he is thankful for, as am I."

"We're just glad we can help. I feel so bad that he was hurt because of us."

"The boys beat him because of themselves, not you. You are einen Schutzengel. I mean guardian angel."

Mary came in at nine looking for me. "There you are, Miss. Ingrid, please send breakfast for Mr. C and Miss Walton as soon as possible." Her voice implied that I was to follow her immediately.

"I'll take it, Ingrid." I grabbed the tray of food, and Mary took the tea.

Mr. Cunningham waited in the breakfast room, watching the light snowfall cover the garden. The smell from the kitchen had spread to the rest of the house. I took a moment to marvel at the picturesque moment. I'd never seen snow on Thanksgiving before. This holiday was off to the perfect start.

I couldn't stop smiling. I was in the holiday spirit. The unadulterated joy this time of year brings is my favorite part of the holidays. November and December felt different than the other ten months of the year because everyone was happier to be alive.

We placed breakfast on the table. Then Mary rounded on me like a hawk and proceeded to lecture me. "What do you think you were doing in there? Cooking? You are not the help, Miss! Did you intrude on the help when you were at home? That might have been acceptable where you come from, but not here! You may observe but not participate."