Chapter Twenty-Six
Rose knew that Reed had tried and failed the next day and the next after that to catch Finn at his room. Frustrated by the man’s inaccessibility, her brother reported he’d slid the envelope containing the divorce papers under Finn’s door with a stern warning note to sign and return them immediately to Reed’s offices off of Scollay Square.
Rose tried to care whether she was a married woman or a divorced one, but with her engagement broken along with her heart, she found she could not raise much concern over her marital status.
What did it matter?Without William, who had been the sunshine in her life, what did anything matter?
How could her heart survive not having him in her life anymore?
That last thought came and went with the realization that if she could learn to live without Finn, she could live without anyone. Even dear William.
In the days that followed, Rose did not return to the Boston Cooking School, causing Miss Farmer to send one of the teachers to check on her health. Suddenly, Miss Spencer was admitted into the foyer.
Trying not to be rude, Rose asked the instructor to kindly thank Miss Farmer for her concern and said she would be back at the school the following day. She did not mean it.
Two afternoons later, Miss Farmer, herself, showed up on the Malloy doorstep, and Rose was mortified when Jillian announced her.
“May I intrude a moment?” the assistant principal asked after she was shown into the sitting room.
“Oh, yes, please do,” Rose said, jumping up to meet her. She did a mental check on what she could offer her to eat and drink. “Would you like some tea or coffee, or perhaps a cup of cocoa?” she added, as Rose remembered the woman’s love of chocolate.
“We also have delicious lavender biscuits. I didn’t make them. Our cook, Emily, did. She has Mrs. Lincoln’s cookbook. Such a fine one. The book, I mean, though, of course, Emily is a fine cook, too. I’ve been reading it ever since I started at the school. I am coming back. I know I told Miss Spencer I would return yesterday, but I ... that is, I ... oh dear.”
Miss Farmer’s face was placid as she allowed Rose to ramble on and then finally stop for a breath.
“You are a superb cook,” the assistant principal said unexpectedly.
Rose took a small step backward. She was diligent, persistent, and dedicated when at the school. That was certain. However, Rose hadn’t believed her skills were in any way out of the ordinary.
“I don’t like to think of you giving up,” Miss Farmer said. “Yes, I will have cocoa, please, if you’ll join me, and I hope you’ll tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Yes,” Rose said at once, for she greatly admired this woman and had found her to be wise and comforting and unflappable from the start — even when another student set her own hair on fire trying to caramelize sugar.
Thus it was without too much discomfort that Rose found herself seated with Miss Farmer on the sofa, drinking cocoa and discussing her sad situation.
After Rose came to the part in which she discovered William had left the country, Miss Farmer tsk-tsked.
“That is an unhappy story indeed. However, it is not the whole of your story, is it?” She set down her cup. “You are a good cook, and that has not changed whether you are engaged or not. I understand about heartbreak and disappointment, but you must not let either define your person. Many young people let that happen. I did not.”
Rose most certainly had let her widowhood define her for years, and as Fannie said, she could see herself letting it happen again with her newly broken heart. Rose wanted to stay tucked in bed in her room and go over in her mind in detail every minute she’d spent with William.
Should she ask Miss Farmer about her own heartbreak? Of course, there was the stroke at a young age that had caused Fannie to stay in bed for a long time and to live with a limp. Rose knew little else except that the woman had never married.
“Why didyoustart to cook?” Rose ventured a safe topic.
Miss Farmer smiled. “Necessity, my dear. I needed to do something.”
That struck a chord with Rose.
“What’s more, as with you, it turned out I had an aptitude for it. However, I had to blunder along for years without tutelage. You do not. In the few months I’ve known you, I have seen greatness. Your meringues are light yet firm, and your vol-au-vents with seasoned fish are, in a word, divine. Not to mention, perfectly puffed, and I would give up an entire meal for a slice of your strawberry sponge.”
Rose felt her cheeks grow warm with the effect of Miss Farmer’s compliments.
“Thank you.”
“You won’t give all that up, will you, not because of something entirely unrelated happening in your life? I understand about staying in one’s room, though it was forced upon me due to my health. I hated it. You have a choice. Use your talent to pull yourself out of any melancholy that has gripped you. That’s my suggestion. These lavender biscuits are every bit as good as you said, by the way.” She popped another into her mouth and stood up.
“I must be off. Thank you for your hospitality and letting me offer unsolicited advice.”
