Chapter 17 #2
His frowning made me frown. Who could have a problem with profiteroles?
They were notoriously tricky to make, but these looked gorgeous.
The pastry balls were crispy, the custard in the middle was creamy and perfectly set, and they were topped with a drizzle of chocolate ganache.
I could have devoured the entire plate right there.
“I prefer not to eat chocolate,” Senor Costa said, looking disdainful again. “I thought that had been understood.”
Frantically, I thought back to the notes I’d seen on the couple. The chocolate mousses had been eliminated in favor of the dessert cheeses, but there hadn’t been any mention of it being because Senor Costa didn’t like chocolate. I thought he’d just wanted the cheese.
“My apologies,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t come off more like a grimace. “I’ll be right back with profiteroles without chocolate.”
Both of them remained unsmiling. “I expected more from a restaurant that charges these prices,” the Prime Minister said.
“I’ll return in just a moment with the correct dish,” I assured them again. I felt their eyes on me as I walked across the restaurant.
Another server must have heard what had happened and passed it along to the kitchen. I saw they were already hustling to plate new sets of profiteroles.
“I prefer not to eat chocolate,” Colette mimicked, her voice pouty. “Who is this manchild?”
“Keep your voice down,” Le?la pleaded. “And we still don’t have the tetilla.”
“Still nothing?” I asked. Le?la shook her head.
“What if we put every cheese we have on the plate and not even mention the tetilla? Maybe he won’t notice?” I suggested halfheartedly.
Colette shook her head. “A member of their team gave the kitchens the engagement ring. Apparently Senor Costa wants the final course brought out with the ring on top of the tetilla.”
I sagged against the counter. Senor Costa wouldn’t be getting the meal or proposal experience he wanted. All this work, and the night was going to end in failure. I’d really thought that Laurent would come through.
I looked past Le?la into the kitchens. Chef La Croix was hanging his head, and he looked as tired as I felt. One of the sous chefs actually reached out to pat his shoulder.
In the hallway, there came a soft chime: the indication of an elevator arriving. As one, we turned toward the sound. It was too late for new diners to arrive.
In the moment before the elevator appeared, everything was completely still. The hum of the pulleys working was the only sound to pierce the silence. Dimly, I imagined Senor Costa watching the mechanisms move, his lips pursed with displeasure. I was holding my breath as the doors slid open.
The first thing I saw was the toe of a very shiny shoe.
My breath caught.
There was a moment when nothing moved, and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I took a ragged breath, the shoe lifted, and there suddenly was Laurent, looking tired and unsure and elated all at the same time. He stepped out of the elevator. In his hand was a small round of cheese.
I could have kissed him. More than that, I could have tackled him to the ground in a fit of passion previously unseen at Le Jules Verne. I restrained myself, slightly, but still ran to him and grabbed his hands in mine.
“You found it?” I breathed.
“I told you I would,” Laurent said, his eyes shining.
“How did you leave work?”
“Oh, don’t worry. There’s a provision in the company manual that allows time off for cheese-related emergencies.” Laurent grinned.
I looked down at the cheese, so hard won, and almost laughed.
Tetilla meant ‘nipple’ in Spanish, and the cheese’s shape made it quite obvious how it got its name.
It looked so sexual, sitting there in Laurent’s hand.
My face flushed, and I was half-relieved when Chef La Croix came over and whisked the cheese away.
“You saved us tonight,” I told Laurent. His hair was mussed, and he smelled like rosemary and citrus. There was only a handspan between our faces. I leaned forward to kiss him and—
“Margot, the Prime Minister and Senor Costa are waiting for their profiteroles,” Le?la said apologetically.
Her voice knocked me out of the bubble I’d been in. Reluctantly, I took a step back.
“I have to go, but thank you,” I told Laurent again. Somehow, I was still holding onto his hands. I couldn’t seem to let them go.
Laurent wasn’t letting go of me, either. “Knock on my door when you get back. Whatever time it is, I’ll be up.”
“Of course. I have to go now,” I said again, finally wrenching myself away. “But thank you! Thank you so much!”
All smiles this time, I returned to the couple bearing profiteroles untainted by chocolate.
I stood there, glowing with happiness as I agreed that, yes, they did look much better now, and, yes, it was tiresome when restaurants didn’t listen to their customers.
Senor Costa’s heart didn’t seem to be in the complaints, though.
I suspected he was only thinking about the proposal now.
Chef La Croix himself put the platter for the final course in my hands. Arrayed on it were a variety of cheeses and fruits. In the center was the tetilla with a large diamond ring over its tip. It looked mildly obscene to me, but that’s what Senor Costa had asked for.
“Almost done,” Yasmine whispered as I made to step back onto the floor.
I beamed as I brought out the platter. Senor Costa followed me with wide-open eyes as I made my way to their table. When I was a few steps away, he took Prime Minister Abascal’s hand between his own.
“Emilia,” he began, his voice catching.
I gently placed the platter in the center of the table, turning it so the large rose-cut diamond faced the Prime Minister. I already could tell that she was a woman able to hide her emotions, but even she couldn’t keep her eyebrows from arching high on her forehead.
“Emilia,” Senor Costa said again softly, and such a look passed between the two of them that it almost took my breath away. I stepped back so they could have their moment.
From the doorway, I watched as Senor Costa spoke a little longer. He reached for the ring and slipped it on the Prime Minister’s finger. She admired her hand with shining eyes, then looked at her new fiancé. They both smiled at each other, and again I felt my chest pinch.
The couple lingered over their final course, ordering more glasses of wine as they sampled the cheeses.
I stood just outside the doorway, waiting for any sign that they needed me.
All the other diners were gone, and in the back, the rest of the staff were already popping champagne bottles.
I could hear the hushed, ecstatic hum of their voices.
When both the Prime Minister and her fiancé had drained their glasses and eaten every last bite of cheese, I went back over. The bill had already been taken care of by the Prime Minister’s assistant, so there was nothing left for me to do other than congratulate them.
“We’re all thrilled for you both,” I said as I pulled the Prime Minister’s chair out for her. “And we wish you a lifetime of happiness together.”
“It was a wonderful meal,” the Prime Minister assured me, all smiles now. Senor Costa barely glanced my way. He only had eyes for his fiancée.
When the couple and their entourage finally, finally, finally, got in the elevator, I made sure I remained attentive and smiling until the doors were fully shut. Then I rushed to the kitchens and joined the party.
A cheer greeted my arrival. Paul immediately pressed a glass of champagne into my hands, and Le?la pointed me toward the platters of food being passed around.
“You were absolutely wonderful,” Yasmine said as she hugged me, a fistful of profiteroles clenched in each hand.
“I would have spilled wine on their laps two courses in,” Luc said.
“Maybe someone took a picture of you serving them, Margot, and it’ll end up in the news!” Colette squealed.
Everyone was congratulating me, and congratulating each other, and passing around food and bottles of wine. Suddenly, the crowds parted. Chef La Croix stood before me, his face inscrutable. No one moved. I wasn’t even breathing.
Chef La Croix appraised me, his eyes dark and foreboding. Then, silently, he bent down, grasped my shoulders, and kissed me loudly on each cheek.
He pulled back so that we were looking directly at each other. For a moment, the only sound I heard was the champagne bubbling in my glass. Then Chef La Croix spoke.
“What a bunch of pissers, eh?”
He began to laugh, his whole face crinkling in mirth, and I started to laugh, and that set everyone else off until I could barely breathe, and all I could think about was how perfect this moment was.