Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Books by Elizabeth Camden
- Title Page
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Historical Note
- Questions for Discussion
- In 2020, look forCaroline Delacroix’sstory in
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
He straightened to gaze into the factory through the window in his office door. He wanted more than to “get through the day.” He wanted to show his magnificent production facility to Annabelle, possibly the only woman of his acquaintance who would appreciate the dovetailing of science, botany, and culinary usefulness. He wanted to show her their technique for creating vanilla extract, even though he knew she might take that information straight back to the Smithsonian. He didn’t care. He just wanted to spend time with her and savor the way she made him feel.
He walked onto the production floor, stepping carefully so as not to awaken the pounding in his head. The scent of herbs surrounded him. Workers at the nearby tables labeled bottles of thyme and bay laurel while the drying ovens at the far end of the factory were being prepared for the next batch of cumin seeds.
“Jacob, can we get this floor swept?” he asked one of his employees.
Jacob set down a rack of thyme bottles. “It’s just herb grit, nothing dirty.”
“It looks messy. We’ve got a visitor coming, so please sweep it up.”
Jacob nodded and went for a broom. Normally they didn’t sweep until the end of the day, but Annabelle should see the factory at its best.
Their facility was spotlessly clean, with dozens of tables covered by a sheet-metal alloy to ensure near-sterile conditions. The painted concrete floor was swept and mopped with a disinfecting solution daily. Huge windows let in plenty of light, which was good, because the factory floor was an entire acre, and it would be gloomy without natural light.
Jacob had just finished sweeping when a carriage arrived outside. Gray grinned and jogged toward the door. The pain that roared to life in his head forced him to slow down, but he still smiled like an idiot as he helped Annabelle alight from the carriage.
“You look spectacular,” he said. The loose bun in her hair allowed tendrils to dangle and float around her face, but it was her smile—that smile—that captured him. It lit up her entire face, and he could have stood there and admired it all day.
“I can’t wait to see your factory,” she said. “This is where all the famous Delacroix spices get bottled?”
“Right here,” he said, holding an arm out to lead her into the factory.