The cooks and Peter followed at Maggie’s heels wherever she went. It was a bit alarming at first, knowing that their eyes were watching wherever she reached. But as it settled in, Maggie wanted to blush and hide away sheepishly. They eyed her like a teacher, like a master, like an expert. They soaked up her movements as though it was the very knowledge she had been looking for all along. Maggie arrived in the merpeople’s kitchen with the intention of learning everything they had to offer, only to realize that they were learning worlds from her.
By the time Maggie had finished looking through their fridges, she was thoroughly disappointed. Not many things were familiar to her and everything that was couldn’t be turned into anything gourmet, anything that was worthy of pleasing a grumpy old King. She shut the last fridge door and spun around, causing the sea of cooks to jerk back in surprise.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Maggie began, “but how difficult would it be to get things from the surface to cook with?”
A small framed mermaid with a teal colored tail came closer to her, dressed in a pristine cook’s jacket. “Not hard at all, miss. We often use land food for special occasions.”
“And it holds up down here?” Maggie winced, unsure of how to even put it. “Beneath the water, I mean?”
A ripple of laughter passed through them another time.
“The magic is very healthy ‘down here’, miss. Everything works as it would on land,” the mermaid explained with a sweet smile. “Is there something in particular you’d like to make?”
Maggie turned back to the fridge, catching Peter’s expression in the door. He gave her a beaming smile that seemed to say,go for it.Excitement nipped at her fingertips. They seemed ready to do anything at all, and that was enough to get Maggie started on something spectacular. She reached for some of the paper the cooks had been using, equipped with a quill herself. At the top she wrote in a neat scrawl,Ingredients.
There was a slight chill in Atlantis, though Maggie wasn’t entirely sure if the merpeople felt it as well. Nevertheless, she had already decided on serving soup. They cooked for some time, but as the flavors develop over time, the final product becomes something entirely unexpected. It would blow anyone's socks off – King or not. And it was rather simple to put together, at the bare minimum. The cooks wouldn’t need too much instruction to throw it all in a pot and consistently stir. Soup would hardly be enough, though. The King was a hardy man and hardy men often did well with a meaty lunch.
Herbs were growing along all the wildflower fields on the island and were accessible to practically anyone. Maggie listed out a few, already drooling at the thought of building an aromatic and earthy crust over a juicy roast beef. The soup would do for a good starter, relying on some acids to open up the palate. To finish it off, Maggie remembered seeing pears reach their harvesting time. Poaching them in a mulled wine with cinnamon sticks and star anise would be the best way to end it all. King Neptune would be doubled over with an overfilled stomach by the time lunch was finished. He’d be in even better spirits with the red wine Maggie already paired with the meal.
Maggie looked away from the list and faced the cooks. “We will serve a tomato-basil soup as a starter, followed by an aromatic herb crusted roast. Poached pairs will follow as a light dessert, and I have already chosen a delicate red wine to pair with it all.” She handed the page to a nearby servant, who was already swimming off. “The servants have a list and we can get started once the ingredients arrive. If you’d all like to get your stations set, we can kick off this surprise lunch!”
As they scurried off to prepare, Peter hooked an arm around Maggie’s waist. “Soup and roast, Magpie?”
“You heard me,” she murmured with a sheepish grin. “I-I know about the statue, but –”
He cupped her cheek, silencing her rambling with a light caress. “We’ll go to the Treasure Roomafterlunch, alright?”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on poaching pears. Would you?”
Maggie beamed. “I wouldn’t.”
And as she turned back to the kitchen, her mind already racing with recipes and preparations, Maggie stole a glance over at Peter Pan once more, completely gobsmacked and speechless at being blessed with a person like him.
12
Maggie
“Perfect.” Maggie ladled the sweet and aromatic poaching liquid over the pears, letting the amber syrup cascade down like a waterfall. Specks of cinnamon were caught on the pear mountains, their autumn scent bringing a smile to her tired expression. Maggie straightened, untying her apron and watching it drift through the water. “These are ready to be served!”
The last tray of desserts went off on the servants backs, carefully balanced as they slipped out of the kitchen's swinging doors. Claps and cheers rippled through the workplace, the cooks removing their hats and hairnets graciously. The special lunch for King Neptune went off without a hitch. The servants collected all the ingredients Maggie had asked for, returning in the nick of time. They went about preparing the food, and Maggie felt as though she was stepping into a role she always played. Even though they were miles upon miles deep within the dangerous ocean, cooking under a lie for the haggard and impatient King of Atlantis, Maggie never felt more at home.
Peter draped an arm over her shoulders, swiping a stray streak of tomato juice off of her curved cheek. “Another successful lunch, wouldn’t you say, Chef Magpie?”
Maggie laughed and brushed him off. “I told you to stop calling me that! They think I’m the famous Magpie chef.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” He shrugged. “Youarethe famous Magpie chef.”
“There is no such thing, Peter.”
His shrug came again, a charming smirk lighting up his face. The King of Neverland did as much work as she did, maybe even more. Not once did he complain about having to work, leaving Maggie more grateful than before.
“I gotta say,” Maggie murmured as she overlooked the kitchen staff. “These merpeople sure know how to cook a good lunch.”
Peter’s smirk stretched across his face. “Don’t tell me you’re going to trade in the restaurant in Cricket Hollow for an underwater kitchen.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” She rocked her hip into his side, pulling a musical laugh out of him. “Besides, we wouldn’treallyknow how good it is until the King’s finished eating, right?”
