Chapter Twenty-Nine
twenty-nine
Lanie
■ 19-DEC ■ Trans-Continental Airways ■ Flight: 506 ■
JFK-John F. Kennedy Int’l Airport ? LHR-London, Heathrow
Seat Assignment: 17G
Had anyone told Lanie that cake-tasting wouldn’t be her absolute favorite part of best mate of honor duties, she’d have called them a damn liar.
Now though, sitting in front of eleven small cake samples, just the sticky-sweet smell of vanilla and caramel essence, ganache, royal icing, fondant and marzipan everywhere nauseated her. She’d thought the best idea would be to come to the tasting on an empty stomach. All the better to eat you with, my dear . But, an hour later, Lanie felt distinctly like the Big Bad Wolf at the end of the tale—ready to be split open and field dressed.
She pushed back from the table exhausted, marveling at the indefatigability of Gemma and Fern, the pastry chef and owner of this fancy patisserie in Knightsbridge. Even clout-chasing in SW1, where high-end stores like Harrods and Harvey Nichols were, was in its own way tiring and pretentious. There were perfectly lovely French bakeries south of the river.
Gemma and Chef Fern effused over an angel food cake with a berry mascarpone filling and Chantilly frosting as Gemma shoveled the umpteenth bite of cake into her mouth. At a certain point, all the flavors had begun to merge. Lanie didn’t know where Gemma was putting it all on her tiny frame.
Her booty, definitely , Lanie speculated with a chuckle; all the Turner women had more than enough to share.
Gemma looked up frowning but continued debating the merits of curds versus compotes with Fern uninterrupted. When the tiny bell above the front door rang out, indicating a customer, Fern made a quick apology and left the kitchen.
Gemma’s eyebrows shot up expectantly. “Well?”
This wasn’t Lanie’s wedding, so it wasn’t her decision. “I don’t know, what are you thinking?”
Gemma licked the frosting off the fork hanging from her mouth, mulling her decision.
“Gem, we’re running over.” Lanie checked her watch.
“Don’t rush me.”
Rush her? It had been over sixty-five minutes of nonstop cake.
“Fern’s been nice enough not to say anything but that’s probably her four o’clock.”
Lanie kept her voice even, though she was dying for a resolution as much as she imagined the proprietress was at this point. They’d sampled nearly every iteration of cake, filling and frosting the woman offered. It was time to decide. Particularly since Fern was allowing for their truncated timetable. As Lanie had come to understand, there were an assortment of vendors who were only too willing to accommodate their last-minute Valentine’s Day wedding requests as long as the couple understood there would be a tremendous upcharge for the short notice and the date. So, Lanie was becoming adept at making decisions...quickly.
“Pick one.”
Gem dug her fork into a lavender-infused white almond cake with apricot compote.
“Okay, that?” Lanie had liked that one but anything chocolate was usually Gemma’s go-to.
Gemma shrugged.
“Gem. C’mon!”
Gemma frowned. “It’s a lot of choices.”
Lanie agreed. This would have been far easier with fewer options to choose from.
Gemma’s eyes began to water. “I wish Jonah was here.”
I wish he was too. Lanie struggled valiantly not to roll her eyes. Instead of me.
Gemma’s chin wobbled. Lanie didn’t know when her cousin had become this sloppy, emotionally needy mess. She didn’t know what to say or if she should even acknowledge these tears at all.
Lanie sighed. “You know he would have if it wasn’t a last-minute appointment.”
“He should be here. He’s the one who loves The Great British Bake Off .”
“Jonah loves baking competitions?”
Gem nodded, pinching her trembling lips together in an effort to staunch the flow of tears, even as she ate another sliver of a nearby cake. “He’s dying to be a contestant.”
Since when? He used to eschew all reality TV as “lowbrow entertainment.” The snob. Maybe it was the subject matter? Lanie had never tried to get him into a cooking show.
“He loves R&B Love Lives and Felonious Househusbands too. He says Gizelle is his other boo.” Gemma laughed through her tears at the recollection.
“Other boo”? The fuck?
Lanie couldn’t pay Jonah to sit still through any of that with her. From The Real World to Love Is Blind , he’d refused to be drawn in. For her at least. That realization rankled her.
“That cake’s good?” Lanie cleared her throat to ask. “Seems like you’re partial to the chocolate with the raspberry compote.”
“Can’t. Need a light color.” Gemma gestured at herself, mouth full.
Right. In case of spills .
“But anything is capable of staining a little bit.”
Gemma grunted, swallowing a forkful of chocolate cake with Bavarian cream. Lanie smirked at Gemma, childlike and sporting a dollop of cream at the corner of her mouth.
Fern returned. “So, what do you think?”
Lanie had an idea. “How about we keep the chocolate cake but pair it with a white chocolate frosting and a fresh raspberry and Bavarian cream filling?”
Gemma held still as Lanie reached across the table to wipe her cousin’s mouth with a napkin.
Fern nodded. “Instead of the raspberry compote?” she verified.
“Can you?” Gemma broke into a smile.
“Of course.” The chef nodded.
“That way you get the chocolate flavors you want with the raspberry but it’s less of a stain hazard. Sound good?”
“Sounds lovely,” Fern concurred.
“Okay...” Gemma said. “Sure.”
Lanie hoped all was well with the lovebirds because Gem’s response decidedly lacked enthusiasm. But maybe Lanie was just projecting...because she was definitely over all of this.