Chapter Six THE BAKER’S APPRENTICE Charlotte #2
One day, after the townsfolk had gone home, he’d let her try a taste. It had been a terrible letdown. The smell was so good, but the taste was so awful and bitter.
“You’ll like it when you’re older,” he had told her, but she hadn’t believed him.
“Do you think it will work? It smells good enough to get people inside, that’s for sure, but the taste…”
“Did I hear you say coffee?” Lady Sibba stood in the doorway to the office. She must have entered the shop as they were walking to the office.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Knox, clearly a bit uncomfortable about Lady Sibba’s intrusion but unwilling to miss an opportunity. “After Ms. Waters left and closed the café, there hasn’t been anyone selling it in town. I thought I might change that.”
“Thank the Gods! I went down to the café every morning before school. I’ve been dying since we got back from the college and couldn’t find any in town. It’s quite addictive, you know.”
Mrs. Knox raised her eyebrows at Charlotte. “Even better.”
“Now, would one of you be able to help me with a custom order? It’s for Weyland’s Solstice present. I want to do those cinnamon biscuits that he loves so much, but I wonder if you could make them a bit bigger. Maybe spell out his name. Is that too cheesy?”
“Of course,” said Charlotte, and she led Lady Sibba back to the front to place her order.
After Lady Sibba had gone, Mrs. Knox came back with the order form. “What do you think? If it doesn’t sell well brewed, there are a few recipes that call for it. I have a book somewhere from the continent…”
Charlotte wasn’t sure. On the one hand, the coffee was likely to draw in customers just as Mrs. Knox hoped. But on the other hand, it would mean giving up on cooperating with Julian and entering into a culinary arms race against him.
But what choice had he given them? They’d both tried reasoning with him. Maybe if they beat him at his own game, he’d have no choice but to give up the bakery side of things. He’d still have the cheese, the wine, and the meat to sell. Maybe he’d even buy some of their bread to sell with it.
“Do it,” said Charlotte. “I’ll go up to Weldan House when I see the korrigans this weekend and look for recipes with coffee, too.”
“Wonderful!” said Mrs. Knox. “And if any of the things you’ve been working on are ready for a taste test, let me know. It’s time to up our game.”
Charlotte left the shop open at the end of the day. There were two more customers coming in: Keir and Alison had an appointment to plan their wedding cake.
Mrs. Knox had Charlotte help her with the sample cakes. They made them with the smallest cake pans, and Mrs. Knox showed Charlotte how to pipe on the icing into intricate swirls and shells and rosettes.
The finished mini cakes were absolutely adorable. It was clear to Charlotte where Mrs. Knox’s work ended and hers began, but Mrs. Knox assured her she’d get better with practice.
Alison and Keir arrived just after sunset. Charlotte let them in and led them to the table where they’d set the cakes.
“They’re all so wonderful!” said Alison. She walked around the table, admiring them from all angles. “And so many choices. It’s a good thing we haven’t had dinner yet.”
“We’ve just come from the new shop across the street,” said Keir. “Have you seen him yet, Charlotte? It’s Julian Blair.”
Charlotte and Mrs. Knox shot each other a meaningful look. “Yes, we know,” said Charlotte.
“Then you know he’s selling croissants in the mornings?” asked Alison.
“I’m afraid we do,” said Mrs. Knox. “We did try speaking with him, but it appears he doesn’t intend to stop.”
“Not even for an old friend?” asked Keir, looking at Charlotte.
Charlotte shrugged. “He remembered me, but it didn’t seem to matter.” Not regarding the bakery, at least. “He seemed more worried about his business than anything else.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” said Keir. “His father having gone to debtors’ prison and all.”
“How do you mean?” asked Charlotte. Julian had mentioned “hard lessons.” Was that what he had meant?
“His family left in a hurry around the time I left for university. I saw the father’s name in the papers some years later: imprisoned for unpaid debts.”
“Maybe Julian helped him pay them off,” said Charlotte.
“Or maybe he’s still doing so,” said Alison.
“Let’s let our customers enjoy what they came here for,” said Mrs. Knox. She gestured for Keir and Alison to sit down. “We can talk about what it means for our plans later.”
Charlotte watched as Alison and Keir tried each cake in turn. First, they tried the traditional choices: vanilla with Gallic meringue buttercream between the layers and white fondant on top for the bride, and a simple fruitcake soaked in brandy for the groom.
“It’s nice, but I want something a bit…more, I think,” said Alison.
“I think we’ll all be sick of fruitcake after Solstice,” said Keir.
Next, Mrs. Knox pointed them to one of the trendiest options. “This is the same vanilla sponge, but the filling is a sweet cream with raspberry jam, and I’ve done the outside in a white chocolate ganache with sugar flowers. Or rather, Charlotte has done it.”
“You made this, Charlotte?” asked Alison.
“I helped,” said Charlotte, blushing. “Mrs. Knox did most of the work.”
“That’s not true. Charlotte did half of these herself.”
“Well done,” said Alison. “They look—and taste—incredible.”
Charlotte appreciated the compliment, although she was fairly certain Alison would have said the same even if Charlotte had done a terrible job.
The real test of her skills would be Keir’s reaction. He wouldn’t insult her in front of her boss, but he also wouldn’t lie if he wasn’t impressed.
“It’s good, but it needs a little something else,” he said after trying a chocolate sponge with chocolate ganache for the groom’s cake. “Why not add a bit of the pepper? A bit. Not too much.”
Charlotte grinned. “Not as much as the other night?”
Keir told Alison and Mrs. Knox about Charlotte’s experiment and little prank.
“Is that the recipe you’ve been telling me about?” asked Mrs. Knox. “Let’s try adding the pepper to the ganache. Unless you were only joking.”
“No, not at all,” said Keir. “She did go a bit overboard with the brownies, but the first bite before the pain began was delicious.”
“Just what every baker dreams to hear. ‘It was delicious until the pain started,’” said Charlotte.
They tried the rest of the mini cakes: a tropical-inspired cake with mango and coconut that Alison adored but not quite as much as the raspberry, a carrot cake that even actual medical doctor Keir thought was too healthy for a wedding, a lemon poppyseed cake that Keir said felt too much like breakfast at university, and a white chocolate sponge with champagne and strawberry buttercream that left Alison quite torn.
“They’re both so lovely,” she murmured, mouth half full, her fork going back and forth between the raspberry and the strawberry champagne cake. “Keir, I need help.”
Keir tried both cakes in turn, but he too was undecided.
“What if we did them both together?” suggested Charlotte. “The vanilla sponge with the champagne Gallic meringue buttercream, then we’ll add in both strawberry and raspberry jams, and we can top it off with the white chocolate ganache.”
“And those lovely little sugar flowers,” said Alison. “What do you think?” she asked Keir.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” he said.
“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” said Mrs. Knox. “Three tiers for the bride, one for the groom?”
Alison was confused. “Why should the bride’s cake be bigger? Can we do them both with two tiers?”
“Of course.”
As they were leaving, Keir pulled Charlotte aside. “You did a wonderful job. If you hadn’t told us you helped, I would have thought Mrs. Knox made them all. They looked professional. Well done.”
Charlotte beamed with pride. She just may have found her calling here in Mrs. Knox’s bakery.
If they could only keep it in business.