Chapter 15 A Brie-utiful Mess #2
“Peas and carrots!” they both said in unison, noting Fred’s favorite snacks.
“Let’s see what we’ve gathered,” Bayard suggested, hopeful that Claire’s method would save them from having to make any more painful discussion.
They laid their selections on the table.
Bayard had picked up a jar of honey, some walnuts, and a sliced pear. Exandra had collected mushrooms, garlic, and prosciutto. They now stared at the incompatible ingredients.
“Maybe we should just pick one direction,” Exandra suggested.
“Fine. Which one?”
“I already said. You choose.”
“And I said I want you to choose!”
“For the love of—” Exandra grabbed the puff pastry. “Fine. We’re doing sweet. Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic!” Bayard slapped the Brie on top of the puff pastry. “But we could still do savory if that’s more your thing.”
“I don’t have a thing! I just want to get this over with!” Exandra glowered.
“Well, so do I, for the record. But you don’t see me acting all miserable about it!” Bayard huffed dramatically.
“Miserable about what?” Exandra’s eyes went wide.
“About being forced to partner with me. I can see why you wouldn’t want to work with me in the field but is it really so awful to have to work with me in the kitchen?”
“I’m not miserable, I’m frustrated!” Exandra practically pounded another sheet of puff pastry on top of the cheese, stabbing it a few times with a knife before Claire rushed over, alarmed.
“Mon Dieu! I think that is enough for the venting. You do not need to murder the Brie!”
After Claire edged away, Bayard leaned in, crimping the edges of the pastry shut with a spoon.
“You’re frustrated? Why? Seems like you’ve scored yourself a free vacation, now that we’re both pretty sure there won’t be any more incidents with the Culture Vulture.
” Bayard tipped his chin up, narrowed his eyes and leveled her with a cool, steely stare.
“Why can’t you just let your hair down and have a little fun with me for once? ”
He was gratified to see Exandra blush a little.
Her hands flew to her hair which was, in fact, already down.
It was cascading to her shoulders in lovely waves and catching the sunlight .
He rather liked the sparkle of the silver strands against her signature purple.
And, he noticed, she was wearing lipstick.
Had she always worn plum lipstick? He couldn’t recall.
But he liked it, so perfect on her soft, plump lips.
“You call this fun? We can’t even make a simple decision about cheese without—” Exandra stopped mid sentence, breathing hard.
“Without what?” Bayard’s voice was quiet.
“Nothing. Never mind. Let’s just... let’s do sweet and savory. You keep your honey and pears. I’m keeping the prosciutto and red onions.”
They worked in tense silence, both reaching for ingredients at the same time, bumping elbows, murmuring apologies. Bayard grabbed the prosciutto and wrapped it around a slice of pear. When he laid it on top of the lumpy mound of cheese and dough it tumbled right off.
“Here, let me—” Exandra tried to help, but their hands collided and honey spilled across the workspace.
“Sorry—”
“No, my fault—”
“I wasn’t watching—”
“Neither was I—”
They eventually got the Brie wrapped—sort of. Half of the pear slices were too thick, half too thin. The spilled honey had soaked into one side, making the dough look slimy. The onions on the other side refused to stay put. It looked like something an ambitious yet untalented toddler might concoct.
“It’s fine,” Exandra said, staring at their disaster.
“It’s terrible.” Bayard shook his head.
“Well, it’s the best we could do.”
“Is it? I feel like if we’d just—”
“What? Communicated better? Actually told each other what we wanted?” Exandra’s voice had an edge.
Bayard flinched. “Exandra—”
“Let’s just bake the cheese.”
They shoved their creation into the oven, both carefully not looking at the other.
Thirty minutes later, the smells coming from Claire’s kitchen were divine. Cheese and pastry and all manner of herbs and sweetness filled the air as the cruiser proudly pulled their creations from the oven.
Claire called them to attention. “Let us see what you have created! Who would like to present first?”
Jasper and Wren shyly brought their masterpiece forward. The golden pastry nest with its perfect arrangement of ingredients was a thing of beauty, as was the toasted pastry Fred sitting atop it like a proud parent. The only issue was the paper chef’s hat which had curled and discolored in the oven.
“C’est magnifique!” Claire exclaimed. “Such a beautiful presentation. I think this is art! He just needs a new hat.” She handed them one of the stuffed mascots, removing the chef’s hat and placing it on the pastry duck. “I think this deserves a prize. With my compliments!”
Other passengers presented their creations to similar praise.
There were floral motifs and an ocean inspired round that reminded Minerva of her dear friend Hildegarde Fish back home.
Minerva was proud of her and Zephyr’s half-and-half Brie en croute.
It came out so elegant and thoughtful, each side perfectly executed and baked.
They had embellished it with a yin and yang symbol on top.
Reluctantly, Bayard and Exandra brought their creation forward.
It looked even worse coming out of the oven than it had looked going in.
The pastry had puffed unevenly. One side was charred, the other pale and undercooked.
The spilled honey had caramelized into dark patches like a rash.
A puddle of cheese had oozed out from the stab wounds.
It engulfed the sliced red onions that had landed in a soggy pink pile on the baking sheet.
“Ah,” Claire said diplomatically. “An... interesting interpretation.”
“We killed it,” Exandra said flatly. “It’s a disaster.”
“Well, appearances aren’t everything.” Claire cut into it, releasing a cloud of steam. “Let us taste.”
She took a bite, and her expression changed. “Oh, my! You know what? This is actually... quite good?”
It was true. Despite its appearance, the flavors had somehow melded beautifully.
The honey and prosciutto, which shouldn’t have worked together, had created a strange but delicious sweet-savory combination along with the cheese and pears.
The pastry, while broken and uneven, was still perfectly flaky and buttery.
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Margot beamed. “Sometimes the most delicious things come from imperfection. From two different visions finding an unexpected harmony.”
Bayard and Exandra looked at each other, and for just a moment, a silent question passed between them.
But then Exandra looked away, and the moment was gone.
Back on The Celestine Queen that evening, Minerva found Jasper and Wren seated on a sofa in the library, reviewing their photos from the day. Fred was asleep on a cushion between them, still wearing the tiny chef’s hat that they’d won at the fromagerie.
Minerva thought it suited him.
“Excuse me,” Minerva said. “Are the two of you terribly busy? May Zephyr and I join you for a moment?”
“Of course!” Wren looked up, concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine!” Minerva settled into a nearby chair, and Zephyr took the seat beside her. “Actually, we have a proposition for you. A bit of a... mission, you might call it.”
Jasper and Wren exchanged wary glances.
“What kind of mission?” Jasper asked tentatively.
“The kind,” Zephyr said with a slight smile, “that involves helping two very stubborn people realize they’re in love with each other.”
“Oh,. Wren breathed a sigh of relief. “This must be about Bayard and Exandra?”
“You’ve noticed, too?” Minerva asked.
“You’d have to be blind not to,” Jasper admitted. “They’re both so miserable and so determined not to talk about it.”
“Precisely. And we think it’s time someone gave them a little push.” Minerva leaned forward conspiratorily. “Are you two interested in helping us orchestrate a very small, very harmless, and completely fake cheese emergency at our next stop?”
Wren’s eyes lit up. “Go on… I’m listening.”
“So am I,” Jasper said eagerly.
“Quack!” said Fred, who was now wide awake.
Minerva smiled. “Excellent. Here’s what we have in mind...”