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Currently Ms. Goodall is 89 but for our meal I pluck her out of the past. She’s twenty seven and has spent a year in Africa studying the chimpanzees.

Jane smiles warmly as she enters the room and sits across from me at the table. “Hello,” she says and irons the crease in the white tablecloth with her delicate fingers.“I don’t have time for an elaborate three hour meal. I’ll quickly eat but then I need to get back to camp.”

I think about explaining to her that she’ll return to the exact next moment she left, but I don’t want our time together to focus on time travel. I want this meal to be about her.

So I say,  “Certainly. I read that grilled squash with orzo salad sprinkled with pine nuts is your favorite meal. Our chef is ready to prepare that unless there’s anything else you’d like?”

Pink runs to her cheeks. She fumbles with the buttons on her brown expedition shirt. “Oh. That is my favorite meal. But the woman that brought me said I could pick anything. And I hate to say it, but I haven’t had meat in a year. Could I possibly have a hamburger?”

“With fries? And to drink?”

“Oh, yes please. I’ve been dreaming of fries! If you want to top that off with a vanilla milkshake as well, I’d be in heaven.” She pulls the red napkin from the table and places it on her lap. “Our supplies have been low, I’ve been eating salads with yam and rice for every meal. Gosh it will be good to have comfort food from my childhood.”

I nod and motion to my butler standing near the door. “Jane, can we start with your most cherished memory?”

Jane pulls the pitcher of water over and pours herself a glass. “Well I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. My memories are all banal. I grew up in England, I had experiences every English person has: I attended school, went to dances and spent an awful lot of time indoors avoiding the rain. I’m utterly unremarkable, ordinary.”

As she’s talking the smell of french fries wafts in the room, the grease and salt, it’s impossible not to drool.

“Please Ms. Goodall, I need to know, what would drive a woman, in an age where women were almost forced into marriage, to run away to Africa and live alone among the chimpanzees? You can’t be ordinary.” I shake my head and look into her crystal blue eyes.

Herbert brings the hamburger, the scent of fresh bread, butter and grilled meat fills the room. Jane giggles, says something about Pavlov, then digs in. We don’t speak until there isn’t a crumb left on her plate. Jane sits back and holds the shake. She sips with an expression of joy.

“You have no idea how good this all tastes, after a year of eating mostly vegetarian, this was divine.”

I want to plead, Please, no more talk about food. Tell me your secrets.

“You look upset. I’m sorry this is a waste of time – I can’t give you what you’re here for. You want a recipe to finding your purpose.”

“How’d you know?” I whisper.

She shrugs, “People have been coming out of the woodwork, studying me, taking my blood, giving me questionnaires. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you all in the future are an unhappy bunch.”

“I’ve been searching for a way to make a difference, find my place in the world and I just can’t seem to make any headway.” My shoulders sag under the weight of my mood.

Jane stands and clears her plate. I follow her to the kitchen. Herbert is sitting at the counter he jumps up but something about Jane makes him relax and sit back down. She begins washing her dishes, of course she turns the water off between scrubbing and rinsing. Then she sets everything in the strainer to dry.