the North End all the way from this Louis XVI to ask me to ally myself with him? Has he lost his head?”
Crépuscule raised a sharp eyebrow.
“Not in the least, monsieur le Gouverneur, not in the least,” The Frenchman replied curtly, taking a long sip of his tea.
Hutchinson was shocked and amazed.
“It’s treasonous! It’s outrageous! Why, I ought to have you arrested where you stand.”
The Governor was not a stupid man. He could not help but see the allure of the offer, having been spurned by his own king, his career all but over. Still, he could never betray George III, not to mention the Empire. It simply was not in him. Hutchinson grabbed the untouched cup of tea in front of him and took an angry sip, ready to pounce on the Frenchman. Abruptly, he stood up, opened his window and spat the contents of his mouth onto the ground below.
“Edward!”
The servant who had been waiting dutifully outside the study burst into the room to see what was wrong. On seeing his master’s expression, he cowered and bowed humbly.
“Edward! This is the vilest syrup of a tea that I’ve ever had the misfortune to taste. I sent for Orange Pekoe.”
“Ay, sire. But ‘tis my hard luck that the tea which I swear to ha’ saw in yer pantry on’y this morn’ is somewhere lost. I hoped to satisfy ‘ee by brewin’ a fine pot o’ regular black tea and mixin’ in some oranges.”
Hutchinson raised his arms in exasperation.
“Edward, you imbecile of a man, there are no oranges in Orange Pekoe. The name is in reference to the leaf. The tea should be subtle and oaky in flavor.”
The Governor stared at the ceiling.
“How am I to think without proper tea? How, I ask? Leave my sight.”
With that, the Governor flung the contents of his now lukewarm tea cup into Edward’s face. The servant covered his eyes and fled the room. Hutchinson didn’t care anymore. He walked over to the window and stared at the street below.
“Very well monsieur…describe your plans.” Then under his breath. “When I find the scoundrel who has had off with my tea, may God help him!”
Eric Silver woke up at exactly 6 a.m. on Monday morning. After vehemently banging his alarm clock into submission, the resident gave his duvet one last hug before getting up to face reality. He sat in bed and rubbed his eyes, surveying the range of medical textbooks that infested all corners of his basement apartment. He couldn’t believe that he had moved back home for his residency, but with student debt from med school and a spot at Harvard, it seemed a good option at the time. After freshening up, he grabbed a not entirely dirty set of blue scrubs that he had stolen from Beth Israel off of his chair and put them on. Jacket and knapsack in hand, he climbed the stairs and walked into the kitchen.
“Morning mom,” he said to his mother who was busy making scrambled eggs for breakfast.
“Hi dad.” Eric’s father was already dressed in a suit and appeared to be busy on the phone. He held up a finger and turned his back.
“Yes, is that Eternal Grace? Yes, I was wondering what you have on this morning?...Uh huh…no, I was just wondering what the program is today?...No problem…uh huh…Robinson eh?” Mr. Silver covered the receiver with his hand and whispered “sounds like a good one” to his son. “Ok, 10 o’clock you say?...Thank you very kindly…Bye bye.” Mr. Silver hung up the phone. “Well, my morning is set,” he said rubbing his hands, grabbing the newspaper and a plate of scrambled eggs from his wife.
“I’m going up to get dressed,” Mrs. Silver said, giving Eric a kiss with his breakfast. “Have a nice day sweetie.”
“You too mom,” replied Eric, already with a mouthful of eggs. He ate with one hand and checked his schedule on his smartphone with the other. When Mr. Silver sat down at the table, Eric snatched the newspaper out of his father’s hands
Crépuscule raised a sharp eyebrow.
“Not in the least, monsieur le Gouverneur, not in the least,” The Frenchman replied curtly, taking a long sip of his tea.
Hutchinson was shocked and amazed.
“It’s treasonous! It’s outrageous! Why, I ought to have you arrested where you stand.”
The Governor was not a stupid man. He could not help but see the allure of the offer, having been spurned by his own king, his career all but over. Still, he could never betray George III, not to mention the Empire. It simply was not in him. Hutchinson grabbed the untouched cup of tea in front of him and took an angry sip, ready to pounce on the Frenchman. Abruptly, he stood up, opened his window and spat the contents of his mouth onto the ground below.
“Edward!”
The servant who had been waiting dutifully outside the study burst into the room to see what was wrong. On seeing his master’s expression, he cowered and bowed humbly.
“Edward! This is the vilest syrup of a tea that I’ve ever had the misfortune to taste. I sent for Orange Pekoe.”
“Ay, sire. But ‘tis my hard luck that the tea which I swear to ha’ saw in yer pantry on’y this morn’ is somewhere lost. I hoped to satisfy ‘ee by brewin’ a fine pot o’ regular black tea and mixin’ in some oranges.”
Hutchinson raised his arms in exasperation.
“Edward, you imbecile of a man, there are no oranges in Orange Pekoe. The name is in reference to the leaf. The tea should be subtle and oaky in flavor.”
The Governor stared at the ceiling.
“How am I to think without proper tea? How, I ask? Leave my sight.”
With that, the Governor flung the contents of his now lukewarm tea cup into Edward’s face. The servant covered his eyes and fled the room. Hutchinson didn’t care anymore. He walked over to the window and stared at the street below.
“Very well monsieur…describe your plans.” Then under his breath. “When I find the scoundrel who has had off with my tea, may God help him!”
Eric Silver woke up at exactly 6 a.m. on Monday morning. After vehemently banging his alarm clock into submission, the resident gave his duvet one last hug before getting up to face reality. He sat in bed and rubbed his eyes, surveying the range of medical textbooks that infested all corners of his basement apartment. He couldn’t believe that he had moved back home for his residency, but with student debt from med school and a spot at Harvard, it seemed a good option at the time. After freshening up, he grabbed a not entirely dirty set of blue scrubs that he had stolen from Beth Israel off of his chair and put them on. Jacket and knapsack in hand, he climbed the stairs and walked into the kitchen.
“Morning mom,” he said to his mother who was busy making scrambled eggs for breakfast.
“Hi dad.” Eric’s father was already dressed in a suit and appeared to be busy on the phone. He held up a finger and turned his back.
“Yes, is that Eternal Grace? Yes, I was wondering what you have on this morning?...Uh huh…no, I was just wondering what the program is today?...No problem…uh huh…Robinson eh?” Mr. Silver covered the receiver with his hand and whispered “sounds like a good one” to his son. “Ok, 10 o’clock you say?...Thank you very kindly…Bye bye.” Mr. Silver hung up the phone. “Well, my morning is set,” he said rubbing his hands, grabbing the newspaper and a plate of scrambled eggs from his wife.
“I’m going up to get dressed,” Mrs. Silver said, giving Eric a kiss with his breakfast. “Have a nice day sweetie.”
“You too mom,” replied Eric, already with a mouthful of eggs. He ate with one hand and checked his schedule on his smartphone with the other. When Mr. Silver sat down at the table, Eric snatched the newspaper out of his father’s hands
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