"As you like." He gave an absent shrug.
I looked around and noticed that just off the kitchen was another space, which was, I realized, his private dining room. There was a rustic table in the center that looked like it had been carved from the trunk of a large Cebia tree. I walked in, and moments later he followed carrying a tray with two calabash bowls of gazpacho and some crusty bread.
"In case you change your mind and decide to join me." He placed a bowl opposite where he was planning to sit. "Like I said, there're unusual herbs around here with flavors you've never dreamed of."
He began eating, while behind him I glimpsed Marcelina
moving down the hall, carrying more trays of vaccine and headed out toward the vestibule again. I had to find a way to talk to her.
As I settled into the rickety chair that faced my plate, I glanced down and saw a red lumpy mixture with a spray of indefinable green specks across the top like a scattering of jungle stars. No way.
When I looked up again, he was swabbing his lips with a white napkin, his penetrating eyes boring in.
"Now," he said, "it's time we started concentrating on you. Got you going with your program."
[Chapter Twenty-two]