If Drew were king, he would let Captain Briggs eat at his table every night, and no giants. Giants ate like the pigs at Timmy’s farm. Like they couldn’t get enough food into their bellies.
But what really bothered Drew was the way the giant stared. Drew didn’t like being stared at. He couldn’t understand why the giant’s eyes looked sad. It was like when Timmy had moved to Duxboro with his family. On Sunday mornings he’d stand alone in the meetinghouse courtyard, watching Drew and the other boys play, wanting to join in, but too bashful to make new friends until Drew made the first move.
Drew knew the giant wasn’t bashful, but he wondered if he had friends. He had Mr. Smith, but maybe he scared everyone else away because he was so big.
Drew liked Mr. Smith. He liked the way Mr. Smith raised the food to his mouth on the rounded edge of his knife blade instead of using a fork. Drew had tried to do the same, but Lorena squealed when she saw him and snatched the knife away before he’d gotten the oysters halfway to his mouth.
Mr. Smith had a drawing of the Savior nailed on the cross pricked into his arm. “Done with India ink from China,” said he. It could never be washed off. He let Drew touch the picture, but all Drew felt were the bristly hairs on Mr. Smith’s arm.
Mr. Smith also made exaggerated faces and told scary stories, like the one about how the giant had once killed a shark with his bare hands. Drew thought it would be fun to have a friend who could kill a shark with his hands. But then he remembered he was still angry, because it was the giant’s fault Captain Briggs could not come to the table.
Dessert arrived. Chocolate custards, sweet and rich, served on blue-and-white Staffordshire china. They looked wonderfully patriotic, Lorena proudly observed, garnished with white swirls of fresh cream, ripe blueberries, and red raspberries.
Just the thing to serve an American privateer captain who believed in justice and honor and loyalty.
She had not forgotten the scornful glare Captain Talvis bestowed on her earlier. They weren’t off to an amiable start. Lorena remained hesitant to join in the dinner table conversation. Not that it interested her. Papa monopolized his guests with talk of ships and the merchant trade, trying to impress the captain with his ability to turn the sea into profit in hopes of interesting him in a new business venture.
“Something troubling you, dear?” Mrs. Culliford leaned in to whisper as she placed a serving of custard before her. “You seem far away.”
“I have a lot on my mind, Mrs. Culliford.”
The dear woman gave Lorena’s shoulder a squeeze of motherly affection. “I insist on helping with arrangements for the launching ceremony,” she promised before moving on to serve the captain.
Lorena heartened at the kindness. She picked up her dessert spoon as a custard was placed before the captain and paused for his reaction.
The process of making chocolate custards was no easy chore, but an exercise in precision and care, from boiling the milk to measuring each ingredient to simmering the custard at just the right temperature and then stirring, stirring, stirring in only one direction. But not a moment did Captain Talvis spare the artistry of her labors or savor its decadent, visual appeal. No matter that he’d been eating heartily of the savory dishes, he attacked her dessert with all the impatience of a man who hadn’t enjoyed a decent meal in weeks.
Lorena had been observing him, stealing glances through coyly lowered lashes as she endeavored to gain a better understanding of the privateersman. She took note of frivolous things like the pleasing arrangement of his sharp, masculine features. They lent him a formidable air while at the same time she found something about Captain Talvis to be curiously sentimental.
He seemed taken with Drew, although what interest a handsome bachelor sea captain had in a small boy, Lorena could not imagine. She might have been disturbed if not for the sincerity of his gaze. The captain’s countenance was just as Drew described. As a man beholding a gift, a rare jewel, a treasure beyond imagining . . . a prize.
She found him full of contradictions. And the more time Lorena spent in his presence, the more mysterious he grew.
“May I offer you another, Captain? I daresay, chocolate custards must be your favorite sweet,” Papa remarked, motioning for Mrs. Culliford to bring the captain another portion.