The windows of the dining room also face out toward the trees, the forest. Nothing else is visible from in here. There is a square table in the middle with a place setting at each spot. Jack directs me to my seat. The others are already sitting.

“You have the last chair, Pennies,” says Ruth. “Now we feel like a full table.”

I don’t bother correcting her. It’s just Penny. One. Not Pennies.

Hilbert looks up. He has a warm twinkle in his eye, as if he has a joke he wants to tell only me. A full plate of steaming food is set down in front of me. The rest of the plates are brought out, and each has the exact same portion of meat, roasted potatoes, and vegetables. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish it. The meat is covered in dark gravy. I haven’t had real gravy in years. I can’t help myself. I dip my pinky in the edge and bring it to my mouth. It’s hot and silky. Such a deep, rich, satisfying flavor.

“Do you like fish?” asks Ruth.

“Tonight is beef, but we do tend to have fish a lot,” says Hilbert.

“Sometimes chicken,” Ruth interjects. “Pork chops with apple sauce. Steak. Creamed corn. Greek salad. Shepherd’s pie. Spaghetti.”

“But the fish is superior to all of those,” says Hilbert.

“I don’t have much of an appetite these days,” I say, but I feel my stomach grumble in anticipation.

Pete picks up his cutlery and starts eating. He appears to be half-asleep. It’s how he’s looked since I’ve arrived. Eyes heavy and half-shut. No smile or sign of recognition. Ruth is holding up her fork but is talking too much to start eating.

“We can have wine with supper, if we want,” she says. “The rule is only one glass per day.”

“And, sadly,” says Hilbert, “I had mine at lunch.”

I bet Hilbert is the kind of man to find comfort in rules and order and structure. I wonder what he did before coming to the residence. I wonder what brought him here.

“You’d better let her eat,” says Jack from across the room. “She’d rather eat the food than talk about it.”

Ruth finally stabs a piece of meat and puts it in her mouth. I take the opportunity to do the same.

Hilbert was right; it’s beef. But it’s unlike any beef I’ve ever had. It’s tender and satisfying in a way none of my meals at home were. Beef was never my favorite. I found it to be chewy and taste of minerals. But this is delectable. I can’t help but close my eyes. I’m eating a meal that’s not red soup or toast and cheese. My mouth salivates as I chew and swallow.

When I open my eyes, I look at Hilbert. He’s using his cutlery meticulously, setting his knife down each time before bringing his fork to his mouth. He dabs a spot of gravy from the corner of his mouth with his napkin. His nails are clean and trimmed.