Chapter 19

Hubert mostly gaped. The Cracker Barrel fed him a meal on every shift, it wasn’t like he’d grown up in a dark German fairy tale, lucky to subsist on the scraps that fell from his grandad’s table. But nor was he anybody’s gourmand; he’d never heard of most of the foods Bartholomew offered him. Food with names he couldn’t pronounce, like tzatziki and gulab jamun and chechebsa, bubbling sauces and blistered breads and fish that Hubert would swear were still looking right at him. He gamely tried most everything Bartholomew scooped up, until it became evident that Bartholomew was having more fun with the faces Hubert was making than with trying to find him new flavors.

“Maybe tomorrow we could go back to sandwiches?” Hubert suggested.

Bartholomew laughed. “Yeah, maybe. We have the rest of forever, I guess you don’t have to taste everything today. One more thing, though?”

“What’s that?” Hubert asked warily.

“Have you really never tasted chocolate?”