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dancing the dinner into a pirouette of tastes to excite their palates.
    That night she’d stood outside the door of her new house, reveling in the light of the full moon. Tara opened her nightgown up so moonbeams could caress her breasts as she whispered words of thanks to the beautiful orb shining down on her. It filled her soul. The waves of light beat in time with her heart. She wept as she seldom allowed herself to, magnificent tears of joy, grateful to the family for fulfilling her secret desire.
    Since then she’d continued daily, weekly, monthly to tease out the tangiest of flavors, the juiciest of fruits, the most succulent recipes to feed her family, as she thought of them.
    And now, for the young Miss’s big party, they had betrayed her, cast her aside.
    The Missus, obviously flustered, had called her into the parlor to talk about the menu. This surprised Tara, since the Missus usually liked to sit at the little table in the kitchen, sipping her sweet dark coffee and reviewing Tara’s plans for special occasions.
    Tara refused to sit in the unfamiliar territory and instead leaned against the doorframe, her arms tight over her ample bosom.
    The Missus fidgeted. “Now, Tara, Cherry’s coming-out party is going to be bigger than anything we’ve done since you’ve come to us. We know what a burden it will be for you, so we are going to get you some help. Clara Sue, we’ve had her before. She has family members who will come special for that night.”
    Tara shrugged and nodded. Clara Sue would do. But that
wasn’t what the Missus had called her in for. She fluttered her hands in the air under Tara’s silent gaze. “Cherry’s daddy wants this to be the biggest, best coming-out party ever. He’s hired a band and even a real bartender, though of course the children won’t be drinking anything hard. Mr. Beaumont went so far as to hire a man to come in for you. He’s a chef all the way from New Orleans.”
    Tara stiffened. She couldn’t be hearing this right.
    The rest of her employer’s words came out in a rush. “Mr. Beaumont says it’s good business to bring someone in from the outside, and Cherry wants something really fancy. And all the best families are fighting over this man. Studied in one of those fancy schools down in New Orleans. It will be really good for Cherry’s social standing to have him coming in to help you. I know it will be an adjustment, but it might be fun. Of course, we’ll be depending on you to make your best desserts. Mr. Beaumont says no one can touch Tara’s desserts.” Hearing the Missus say they had hired this man to come cook for the party hit Tara like a slap in the face. She had been working on the menu for Miss Cherry’s party for weeks—and all for nothing. After all she had given them! She stood up to her full height and glared down at the quivering woman.
    The Missus, apparently seeing the impact of her words, tried to take the sting out. “This way you don’t have to work so hard. He can bear the brunt of the work. See, he already sent a menu for you to look over. I think you’ll love it.”
    Tara didn’t speak. She simply took the menu and left to prepare lunch.
    In the weeks that followed, the family didn’t linger much in the depths of her kitchen, nor did they complain about the bland food they had to leave uneaten on their plates. Young
Miss Cherry came in once to apologize. Tara just turned her bottomless eyes on the girl and waited until she ran crying from the room. They must have told that chef man about it too, because with each menu change he sent, a little token was included. Once, tissue-wrapped ginger candy, another time, dried rose hips. Finally, a jasmine-scented hankie edged with lace, and a written thank-you for allowing him to assist in her kitchen. She sniffed at each gift, tossed them on the windowsill, and refused to release the anger