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“Now how can you be scared of that?” Josh asked, exasperated.  He waved the silver tray under her nose.  “I mean, it’s precisely what you ordered!”

“Let me see!” Hibiscus ordered.  Josh lowered the tray and she stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Carolina.  “My dear, it’s precisely what you ordered,” she said, her voice a shade disappointed.  “Tuna salad with biscuits, apples cut to look like roses with a chopped banana…”

“And after you’re done, I’ll bring you your peanut butter pie,” Josh promised.  “With peanut butter sprinkles and frosting.”

Carolina wrinkled her forehead.  “You know, it just occurred to me.  How does your chef make all these different dishes?  How does he have all the ingredients on hand?”

Josh’s face paled.  Clearing his throat, he set Carolina’s plate on the table.  “I’ll get you some fruit punch–on the house.”  Tucking the tray under his arm, he scurried into the kitchen.

Carolina eyed her plate, a trembling hand resting on the back of her chair.  Deciding that Carolina obviously wasn’t interested in the antipasto, Hibiscus rolled several slices of ham around a handful of olives and artichokes.  Opening her mouth wide, she asked, “What’s the trouble?”

“If I sit down, the second I pick up my fork I’ll have an adventure.”  Carolina eyed the tuna salad.  She was relieved to find it didn’t eye her back.

Gulping down the antipasto, Hibiscus wiped her brow and swore.  “Each time gets better and better, I swear.”

“Each time…” Carolina trailed off.  A look of horror dawned on her porcelain face.  “You mean there’s an adventure with every bite?”

“With some dishes, this one for sure.”  Hibiscus eagerly began to roll up more meat.  “But with others, it’s just the first bite.  A few, I’ve found it to be the last.  Just when you’re staring mournfully at that final bite, you pick up your fork and take a deep breath and bam!  An adventure.”

“But how?” Carolina persisted, her eyes still fixed on her tuna salad.  She would have never admitted it, but the apple roses were beautiful.  “Who creates these dishes?  How do adventures get put into them?  How does someone have time to create so many different dishes from a menu that changes and evolves?  Plus, it doesn’t even come from a chef.  It comes from singing frogs or dancing pots or…”  Befuddled, she picked up her fork and gingerly poked at her tuna salad.

“It’s not going to bite you,” Josh chided, coming up behind her with another dish.  Whisking away Hisbiscus’ empty antipasto platter, he set another dish in front of her.  “Your entree, ma’am.”

Tapping her fingers over the steel cover, Hibiscus ran her tongue over her lips.  “I can hardly wait.”

“Go on, eat it,” Carolina urged, curiosity and anticipation tumbling about inside of her.

Hibiscus shook her head.  Pointing a fork at her, she said, “Only if you try yours.”

“I can’t eat mine.”  Carolina glared at her offending meal.  “I have too many questions.  I demand to meet the chef.”

Josh coughed, his face returning to the pale, sickly yellow shade it had when she mentioned a chef before.

“There is a chef, isn’t there?” Carolina asked, narrowing her eyes.

Josh stared at the floor.

“There’s not!  There’s not a chef for Whimsy!  Where does the food come from then–a magical dragon?”

“It could,” Hibiscus interrupted, waving her fork wildly in a vain effort to get Carolina’s attention.  “It could come from a enchanted toadstool or a slug’s behind for all I care.  Carolina, you’re missing the point of Whimsy.  Whimsy isn’t about proper orders and quiet meals and cutting the crusts off sandwiches.  It’s about magic and adventure.  It’s about having a meal you could only dream of.”  Narrowing her eyes at Carolina’s scowl, she said, “Did you get hurt when you ate the antipasto and went to Italy?”

Carolina’s lips twisted into a pout.  “No,” she replied sullenly.

“Have the singing frogs hurt you?  Has the enchanted menu offended you?  Did you not get exactly what you ordered?”

“Yes, but”–

“But you’re scared,” Hibiscus said flatly.  “You’re terrified and bound and determined to pitch a fit until Josh takes you back to Comfort.  Well, that’s fine.  If you want to spend the rest of your life knowing what you’re going to eat every day and do every day and wear everyday, until you die, fine.  But if you want a bit of sparkle, a bit of whimsy, a bit of fun–then eat your lunch.  See what happens.”

Gripping her iron chair with both hands, Carolina bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.  The tuna salad bored into her vision, the apple roses and chopped banana slices swirling around her head.  Her hands shaking, the chair wavered in her grasp.

Hibiscus sighed and hugged the covered dish to her chest.  “Josh, you better take her back to Comfort.”

“All right.”  Josh’s disappointed voice sliced into Carolina’s resolve.  Lifting her chin, she shook her head.

“There’s no need.”  In one elegant movement, she slid into her chair and lifted her fork.  “I’ve suddenly regained my appetite.”

Ignoring the twisting knot in her stomach, Carolina lifted her fork and scooped up a small amount of tuna salad.  Slowly, her hand trembling, she raised the fork to her lips until they parted, ever so slightly.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a week full of whimsy awaiting!