Chapter 21
“Ladies! I am so excited to have you here! Chef Alex has been gracious enough to lend us use of his kitchen today. We will be preparing a few of my favorite treats for the employees’ Christmas baskets.
Following that, we will go to the Godric State Room so you can meet the heads of staff and mingle with them,” Queen Isobel said to the group as we walked into the palace’s industrial kitchen.
“I have laid out aprons for each of you on the counter there. And you can wash your hands at the sinks against the wall.”
We approached the massive stone island that ran almost the entire length of the room, separating the kitchen into two areas, one for cooking and the other for prep.
Copper pots and pans hung from brass hooks above the cooktops, and dozens of stainless steel and copper bowls lined the shelves on the opposite wall.
I knew several chefs who would drool over this entire kitchen: only the best for the Courtwright family.
I turned the hot water on and started to scrub my hands with the velvet suds that smelled of honey and cherries.
“Do you have any experience with baking?” I asked Mel, who was washing her hands to my left.
“Absolutely none.” She laughed. “I grew up in a manor in the country and we had at least two dozen staff.”
“Oh, yeah. I totally get that,” I sarcastically replied.
Mel jokingly rolled her eyes and asked, “What about you? Do you bake?”
“I grew up in a family where we were barely able to make ends meet. We ate canned foods and occasionally had fresh produce that didn’t need to be thawed or microwaved.
I know how to set the microwave timer or order a croissant from my favorite bakery in the city.
The only thing I reliably know how to bake is brownies, thanks to my grandmother. ”
“I’m glad we’re in this together, then.”
We walked back to the group and located our aprons.
I was glad I had been able to talk Bronson into letting me wear jeans.
He was so insistent that I dress to the nines for every outing, but one mention that the very expensive clothes might get dirty from all the flour and butter and he gladly retreated and agreed that my own jeans were the ideal choice.
Sliding my apron over my neck and tying it behind my back, I got into the line forming against the counter in front of Queen Isobel.
“Okay, ladies.” Isobel clapped her hands together.
“We have a few different baking stations set up around the kitchen, and I’ve printed off some recipe cards that you will find at each.
” She waved her hand around the kitchen, indicating the stations.
“This tradition is very near and dear to my heart. I love to bake but more importantly, I love my staff. They are a part of our family, helping us run this country. If I had to solely focus on the laundry, house chores, preparing meals for my children and such, I would be in over my head.” She ran her hands down the front of her apron, a nervous tick that I had started to pick up on.
“I know that is a very privileged thing to say, and it’s truly a privilege to have a palace full of staff, which is why I try to show them some extra appreciation during the holidays. ”
She wiped a stray tear from her left eye and cleared the emotion from her throat. “Feel free to work together, and please do your best. We want to show the staff how much we love them and appreciate everything they do for us.”
I quickly perused the baking stations, glancing over the different recipe cards.
Cranberry walnut bread, Linzer cookies, almond crescent cookies, and gingerbread cake were all on the roster for the day.
I spotted Adelaide and Mel by the back wall gathering bowls and measuring cups and made a beeline for them.
“Hi,” I whispered, leaning in close. “What are y’all baking?”
Mellie inclined her head toward Adelaide. “Well, this one knows how to bake, so I think one of us needs to pair up with her and the other one should buddy up with Cora. You know she’ll be in her element today.”
I glanced over to where Cora was already measuring out flour and sugar for the Linzer cookies.
I nodded. “Excellent thinking. I’ll pair up with Cora. Snag the station next to us and make the almond crescents.”
Adelaide laughed. “You’d think we were about to step into the Hunger Games arena, the way you two are planning your survival here.”
“You laugh, but you’ve never seen me burn toast three times in a row before,” I quipped, making my way to Cora.
Mellie and Adelaide fell into giggles as they followed me to the neighboring station and we all settled in, measuring ingredients, creaming together butter and sugar, portioning out dough, and shaping our respective cookies.
Cora was in the best mood I had seen her in yet, clearly in her element as she talked me through the recipe. She was a patient teacher, explaining the steps clearly and sharing why each was important. I was learning more about baking in one afternoon than I had learned in my entire life.
“You know, Cora,” Adelaide spoke up as she shaped their dough into small crescents and placed them on a baking sheet, “you really should offer some baking classes at the café. You’re a natural teacher!”
Cora blushed, ducking her head. “Do you think so?”
Mel nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. You could start with a class on your famous cranberry scones. God, I could go for one of those right about now.”
I laughed. “They’re right, Cora. This is what you love and you’re so good at it!”
“Thank you. That’s really nice. I’ll think about it.”
“If you do decide to teach some classes, I would love to host one here in our kitchens,” Queen Isobel chimed in, approaching our table. “I couldn’t help but overhear and I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Cora stopped in her tracks, mouth agape and face beet red. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty,” she stuttered.
“You’re quite welcome, darling. Don’t forget what you’re good at and don’t let anyone dull your shine,” the queen said, giving Cora a wink as she continued to the next station. I noticed as she walked away that Cora’s back was a bit straighter, her head held just a bit higher.
When all of the cookies, bread, and cake were out of the oven, we gathered back around the island for a quick taste test.
I was proud that Cora’s and my Linzer cookies came out beautifully, raspberry jam shining in the center of each. Adelaide and Mellie’s almond crescents were also perfect: buttery, a bit crumbly, and coated in powdered sugar.
Next up was the gingerbread cake. Queen Isobel passed each of us a small slice on delicate white plates. I took a bite of the rich, dark cake.
“And who made this one?” Queen Isobel asked.
“I did,” Renata quickly claimed.
“Hmm.” Queen Isobel slowly chewed, brows slightly furrowed. “There is something different about this and I can’t place my finger on it. What did you add to the recipe?”
My arms and torso started to itch as I swallowed the last bite of my piece. That’s when it hit me that I knew exactly what was “different” about the cake.
“...banana,” I whispered.
“What was that, Birdie?” Queen Isobel asked.
“It’s banana,” I said, fumbling to untie my apron.
“Oh my God, Birdie. Aren’t you allergic to bananas?” Adelaide said from beside me.
My stomach rolled and I felt like I was going to be ill. My eyes darted around the room, looking for the nearest exit. I needed to find a bathroom immediately.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, but can you excuse me?” I ran out the nearest door and down the hall to find a bathroom, praying to every God I knew that I could find one before I got sick.
I found a small powder room a few doors down and was blessedly able to close the door behind me and make it to the toilet before the first wave of vomit hit.
I rested my head against the toilet, thankful for the cool porcelain doing wonders for my on-fire skin. My entire body felt like it was expanding, and my stomach felt like the bowels of hell had taken up residency inside of me.
Another wave of vomit came barreling out of me as I heard people talking outside the door.
God, in all of your mercy, please don’t let anyone of importance be standing outside that door hearing me release everything I’ve eaten today.
“Birdie?” Oliver asked as he knocked on the door.
Damn it to hell.
“I’ll be out in just a minute,” I lied. “I’m fine, I promise.” Another wave of vomit splashed into the toilet.
“You’re not fine,” Oliver said as he cracked open the door.
He’s right, I am so not fine.
I felt like the little girl from Willy Wonka who turns into a blueberry: big and puffy and like my body could explode at any moment.
“Birdie. Oh my God. You are covered in hives. Look at your neck.”
“Shit.” I wretched another time into the toilet. “Do you think you could have someone bring me my bag? It’s in the kitchen…” I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped the corners of my mouth. “I keep a few doses of antihistamine in there.”
Oliver gasped. “Birdie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were allergic to bananas.”
I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I think I accidentally ate some.”
“Fuck. I’ll be right back with your bag.” I heard him tell someone in the hallway to stand watch and make sure I didn’t pass out.
Wonderful, someone else listening to me evacuate my stomach.
A moment came where I felt like I could move without passing out.
I needed to rinse my mouth out, but immediately regretted it the moment I started to stand.
The room began spinning and I knew I was going down.
But instead of hitting the floor or the vanity, two large, muscular arms wrapped around me and guided me to sit against the cool tile wall.
“I got you, sweetheart,” Knox said as he gently set me down. “Can we get these meds in you?”