Homecoming - Christie Golden [50]
“Which is?”
Carla grinned. “Making a loaf of bread and serving it up with wine and cheese, of course.”
“Now, that sounds like my kind of botany,” Janeway said. Carla and Mark had met while working on improving the germination rate of a genetically engineered type of wheat that would grow in virtually any climate. Once their work had been approved, it was likely that they would be able to feed millions of hungry people. The old techniques of growing grain, grinding it, and making it into wholesome foodstuffs survived in places where replicators weren’t feasible.
Kevin was now squatting with his back toward them and putting something in his mouth. Again.
“Kevin, whatever it is, take it out of your mouth right this minute!” Carla called over to him.
Janeway settled back in her chair and thought about what she might like to have for dinner.
The restaurant called Spanish Moss, named after the gray-green, curly air-fed plant that had a penchant for [148] draping itself on the massive, mossy live oak trees that even now flourished in what had once been called the Deep South, was as much entertainment center as it was restaurant. Since Voyager had left Earth, there had been a lot of changes. Not all were grim and dark, like the Dominion War. One change that Janeway had particularly noticed was how common holographic technology had become in the civilian sector. What had been cutting-edge technology when she had left seven years ago was now commonplace. At least she had been reassured the food wasn’t holographic. The theme, naturally, was Earth’s antebellum South, and the entrance to the place was the façade of a mammoth, beautifully columned mansion. As guests entered, they were greeted by holographic servers, who politely asked if they wanted to “dress for dinner.” Janeway had heard about this option and immediately said yes.
Mark looked puzzled. “What’s this about?” he asked.
“You may dine in the appropriate clothing for the era, if you like,” Janeway said. “Carla, are you game?”
“You bet!” She handed Kevin to the server, who led the child away to a special area. Baby-sitting was one of the services offered at Spanish Moss. It was one for which all three of the adults were grateful, especially as Kevin seemed unusually truculent this evening. Carla grabbed Kathryn’s hand. “Let’s go be Scarlett.”
They were offered a choice of gorgeous gowns. Janeway selected forest green, and Carla opted for a sky blue that matched her eyes. Quickly the gowns were replicated for them, and holographic fitters helped them into the complicated clothing.
[149] For a time, Janeway had amused herself aboard Voyager by enacting a holonovel in which she was a governess in the Victorian era. As her breath was forced out of her in a great whoosh by the yanking of stays around her midsection, she suddenly remembered why she had become so disenchanted with that particular scenario.
“Loosen these a bit, please,” she said. Glancing over at Carla, she saw the younger woman’s eyes as wide as saucers, and laughed. “Get yours loosened too, or you won’t be able to eat a bite of the fabulous dinner we’re about to have,” Janeway advised.
“I don’t need much convincing,” Carla gasped. They emerged a few moments later, able to breathe, and greeted Mark. He looked striking in an exquisitely tied cravat and tails.
“Well, well, Rhett Butler has some competition,” said Carla, her eyes dancing. She slipped an arm through her husband’s, and he bowed gallantly.
“And I will be the most envied gentleman at dinner,” he said, extending the other arm to Janeway. Laughing, the three friends went into the open, glorious “mansion” dining hall.
Dinner was fabulous. Janeway had she-crab soup with just the right amount of sherry, followed by fresh shrimp cocktail, grouper in a delicious sauce with cheese grits and collard greens as sides, and the three of them