Bon Appetit: A Novel (French Twist) by Sandra Byrd

Author:Sandra Byrd [Byrd, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Quaystrokes
Published: 2011-11-30T05:00:00+00:00

Saturday I came in early and finished the strawberry tarts. Anne helped me brush glaze over them, and I made two extra—one for each of us to pop into our mouths with the midmorning express. Then I made the tarte aux nougat-pommes for Monsieur Étienne. As soon as I was ready to box it up—two hours early—it fell apart. The nut powder in the recipe made them notoriously crumbly, but I thought I had added enough butter to compensate and hold it together.

“Help!” I called to Anne. Kamil nodded that he had everything under control, and she helped me fashion another crust. I filled it with apple filling and caramelized another topping. Ten minutes before Monsieur Étienne was to arrive, we finished.

“Thank you,” I said. “I'd have never been able to do it without you.” How did Patricia do this on her own? Would I ever be able to do this on my own? Or was this destined to be yet another career that Lexi tried, couldn't master, and failed?

“No problème,” Anne said, ending graciously with, “I wouldn't be here without you.”

I brought it forward to Simone, who kept it set aside for Monsieur Étienne. She reported later that he had sniffed and said it would do, which was apparently high praise.

I was just settling in to prepare the large birthday cake when Simone came to get me.

“I'm leaving,” she said, “but there is a phone call for you. An American man.”

Anne was pulling on her coat, getting ready to go home for the night. “I think I'll stay for just a minute,” she said. It was okay to be nosy if you were a good friend!

I picked up the phone. “Hello?” I said in English.

“Lexi? It's Dan. Is...is this the right number? It's the one you e-mailed me.”

I was not prepared for the jolt I felt upon hearing his voice. You know the old cliché about knees going weak? It made my knees go weak.

“Hey, Dan. I'm sorry. I was in such a rush yesterday morning that I must have given you the bakery number. I'm—I'm glad you got me, though.”

“I'm glad I got you too,” he said. Did he intend that double entendre? He'd started out the conversation with a very businesslike tone of voice, but he'd softened. I wondered how his knees were doing. I wondered where Nancy was.

“I'm leaving tomorrow for my sister's wedding, and I just wanted to check in with you and make sure we're set for next weekend. I wondered if you'd be able to take any time off. I'll be in Paris for three days.”

“I think so. I'll have to check,” I said. “Will you be in touch through e-mail?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Don't worry, the weekend is my treat. You show me the sights, I'll pay the way.”

“Okay,” I said. “See you soon.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” he said softly.

I hung up the phone, and stood there until Simone nudged me.

“Ça va?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, oh yes,” I said. I went back to the kitchen.

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