Vegan Baked Alaska (Auntie Clem's Bakery Book 9)

by P. D. Workman

  “SAD?” Vic repeated.

  “Standard American Diet. And then you can have diets that don’t allow processed foods, or that don’t allow extracted oils, or sugar, or any high-fat or calorie-dense foods. Or you have the ones that only allow above-ground plant parts, no roots or tubers. Or fruitarian diets, that only use the ripe seed-bearing ovaries of plants. Or only cast fruits or nuts. There are those who will only eat leaves and not anything with seeds in them, but those tend to be very calorie-restricted, and you can’t live on them long-term. If you’re into calorie restriction, there are also juice fasts, water fasts, or breatharians…”

  “Breatharians?” In spite of the fact that Erin didn’t want to encourage his interest in their company, she had to ask about that.

  “People who claim to live without any food or drink, just getting their nourishment from the air and the sun.”

  “You can’t do that!” Vic scoffed. “That’s a really good way to die!”

  The man shrugged. “It isn’t a diet I would try. But there are people who claim to live on air, some for a very long time. Calorie restriction is supposed to extend your lifespan.”

  “Hate to break it to you,” Willie interjected, “but eliminating all food and drink from your diet isn’t going to make you live longer. It might cut your lifespan short by quite a bit!”

  “Like I say, I don’t think that’s one I would ever try. I think you have to be a yogi before you can do that, and I’m not that devout about anything.”

  “That’s a lot of different diets,” Vic said. “I never would have guessed there were so many different ways to be vegan. I thought it was just one diet.”

  “That’s not even all of them,” the man went on. Erin tried to remember his name. Blaine? Brent? Something that started with a B. “You’ve got the people who only eat at certain times of day or certain days of the week. Different forms of intermittent fasting. They hope to get some of the benefits of calorie restriction, but without completely depriving themselves.”

  “What about you, Brett?” Terry asked. “What kind of vegan are you?”

  “I’m just your run-of-the mill vegan right now. To tell the truth, I’m not even one hundred percent vegan all the time. I’ve done short stints with fruitarianism, and I always feel great when I’m doing it, but I can’t stick with it. I’m too tempted by all of the other great stuff to eat. I initially thought maybe I’d do fruitarian for the length of the cruise. They have great juice and smoothie bars, and buffets full of lots of wonderful fruit options, even with dragon fruit and persimmons and other fruits that you don’t see in the fruit options at most restaurants.”

  “But… you changed your mind?” Terry prompted.

  “Yeah. There’s just so much good food here. They’ve got world-class chefs, preparing their signature dishes and just about every cuisine you could think of. Why would I restrict myself when I’ve got all of those options available? It makes more sense to do the fruitarian thing when I’m at home, and to try everything I can when I’m on vacation.”

  Erin nodded. “Makes sense.”

  “Anyway…” Brett gave a little shrug, looking at the menu lying on the table in front of Erin. “I was just trying to say… you didn’t look too thrilled with the menu, and I thought I’d point out that if there’s something else you’re in the mood for, or they don’t have something in the menu that suits your dietary pattern, the cooks would be happy to oblige. They’re very good. I heard one chef say that he likes it when someone makes a special request on a cruise like this, because otherwise he’s just making the same five dishes over and over again hundreds of times. So you’d actually be doing them a favor if you asked for something special, not irritating them.”

  He sat back in his chair and beamed at her.

  Erin shook her head, smiling at him. “It’s not that I’m following some super-strict diet, or even that I have allergies. It’s just that… I’m suffering from motion sickness and I really don’t feel like eating right now. I took some medication, but my appetite is really off. I don’t feel so nauseated anymore and I wish I could take advantage of all of the great options here, but I just really don’t feel like eating right now.”

  Brett nodded wisely. “You should ask for a fruit platter. Fruit is very healing when you’ve been sick. It’s light, just sweet enough to tempt you…”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Erin agreed.

  They went back to looking at their menus, and eventually everyone had settled on what they wanted to eat. A few other couples and families were seated while they were waiting for their orders and, as getting to know each other was highly encouraged and the tables and chairs were set in configurations intended to promote visiting, the dining room was soon buzzing with chatter as people tried to get to know each other.

  “So, what is it you do?” Brett asked Erin.

  “I’m a baker. I bake gluten-free breads and bake for other special diets, like people who are vegan or have allergies. Everything is gluten-free and nut-free. I try to offer foods that are free of any of the major allergens, so I always have one or two things available for purchase that are vegan. I don’t know if that had anything to do with me winning the tickets for the cruise…”

  “Oh, you won them? How did you win tickets?”

  “I entered a stack cake into the baking competition at our fall fair. The ARS guys had sponsored the prize, so that’s what I got.”

  “What is a stack cake? Is it vegan?”

  Erin took a few minutes to explain what a traditional Tennessee stack cake was and how to prepare it. “It would certainly be possible to do vegan,” she said. “A lot of recipes that were developed to help people use their dry goods storage or rations during wartime were free of milk and eggs, so they end up being vegan. The stack cake that I cooked had eggs in it, but it wouldn’t be hard to make vegan.”

  “You can’t just take out the milk and eggs and expect it to turn out the same way,” Brett warned. “It changes all of the chemistry when you start swapping them out.”

  Erin looked over at Vic grinning.

  “I think I know that!” she agreed.

  “That’s what Erin spends all of her spare time doing,” Vic declared. “Any time she’s not working or planning her work, she’s experimenting with new recipes and new ways of making traditional foods. She’s really good at figuring it out—”

  “I make plenty of mistakes,” Erin interrupted. “Some of the stuff that I come up with is barely edible. but I’m getting better. I learn a little more each time about how the different ingredients interact together.”

  “Do they know you’re a baker?” Brett demanded. He waved to one of the wait staff, motioning them forward. “You need to tell them that you’re a baker and you know how to do all of that stuff.”

  Erin raised her hand to try to stop him, but it was pointless. He was the kind of person who injected himself into a situation whether he was wanted or not, and never quite seemed to know the appropriate way to talk or act. He was soon telling all of the servers about Erin’s profession and telling them how they should utilize her during the cruise to come up with a new signature dessert.

  Erin just looked at Vic, shaking her head.

  Erin had slept so much the previous day that she found herself wide awake at two o’clock in the morning. Terry was lying beside her, his breathing sounding congested, like he might be coming down with a cold. Erin knew he hadn’t slept well the night before because he’d been looking after her, and he needed his sleep if he wanted to fight off the virus. She was afraid that her tossing and turning trying to get to sleep was going to keep him awake, so she decided to get up and do something else until she started to feel tired again. Her body’s clock was all out of whack; normally she would be in the deepest part of her sleep cycle at two in the morning.

  She retreated to the couch and tried to relax there, but her brain was still going a mile a minute. A book might help, but she was worried that any reading light she turned on would wake
n Terry too. Not only that, but her stomach started to growl, deciding at the most inconvenient time that it was finally ready for nourishment.

  Erin held out as long as she could. She knew Terry wouldn’t approve of her going off on her own without him, but she was a grown woman who could take care of herself. She was on a ship, where the crime rate was practically nil. There were crew members and security guards and closed-circuit cameras. She couldn’t be much safer.

  She knew that there were a couple of buffets that were open all night to offer repast to those who gambled or pursued other activities late into the night. There were at least two libraries on the deck layouts she had looked at, and she’d found a secret deck on one of the maps as well. Mary Lou had told Erin before she went on the cruise that nearly every ship had a secret deck, some out of the way, hard-to-get-to deck where those who were looking for peace and quiet could get away from the crowds and scheduled activities and just lie down with a book or have a nap.

  Erin walked past K9’s kennel on the way to the door. He whined softly at her. Erin stood there for a moment, trying to decide whether to take him with her. Eventually she decided against it. K9 was Terry’s dog, not Erin’s, and he was a working dog, not a pet. It wouldn’t be right for her to be walking around the ship with him when other people weren’t allowed to bring their pets on board.

  She let herself out of the stateroom as quietly as possible.

  Keeping track of what amenities were on what decks, and where on the deck they were was akin to memorizing the layout of a small city, and Erin had to stop to look at directories and maps several times to figure out where it was she wanted to go. She picked up a couple of pieces of fruit from one of the all-night buffets. They looked fresh, and there was enough of a chill in the air that Erin wasn’t worried about them going bad because they’d been sitting out for too long.

  She suspected that food probably wasn’t allowed in the library, so she would find the secret deck instead. Someone else would have left a paperback or a newspaper or something else she could read. Or else she could just stare at the stars and wait for her body to decide it was time to go to sleep again.

  She had traversed several decks when she realized she had gone too far, and then that she was at the wrong end of the boat to find the secret stairway. There were several sets of stairs going up to each deck, nice and wide and well-lit and signed, but there was only one staircase to the secret deck, and it was hidden in a corner far away from anything else.

  Erin reversed direction and looked around, searching for the doorway. She heard voices and tried to decide whether to see if it was a crew member who could help her or another passenger who might know the way, or whether to keep exploring on her own. It was sort of exciting trying to find the secret deck on her own, and Erin thought that if she kept at it long enough, she was sure to be able to sort it out.

  She stopped where she was and listened to the voices, waiting for them to pass by. They were on the outside of the deck and she was on the inside, so as long as she stayed still, they weren’t likely to see her or know that they were being observed.

  “We need to find out,” one of the voices said gruffly. “We can’t just wait around doing nothing, or we will never get paid. We need to be proactive.”

  Erin frowned, listening. Who on the ship was paid on commission? As far as she knew, everyone was salaried.

  “I don’t like this,” the other said, in a breathy, sort of whiny voice. “I didn’t want to be involved in anything like this. That wasn’t what I signed on for.”

  “You’re in too deep to be backing out now,” the gruff voice growled. “We need to show you’ve got what it takes. If you don’t, you’re going to find yourself… expendable.”

  “What does that mean? I haven’t done anything wrong. There’s no reason for anyone to threaten me.”

  “The boss ain’t happy about the way you’re waffling over every order. You need to step it up, or you’ll find yourself in trouble. They don’t want anyone who isn’t totally invested in this.”

  “I’m invested. I just didn’t… I never said I’d be involved in this new stuff.”

  There was silence. Erin couldn’t hear them walking or talking anymore. She pictured them in her mind’s eye, standing out on the deck, looking at the stars or the waves or the full moon. Even the seasoned crew members must stop and look at the wonders around them every now and then.

  “I told them you were on board. Now you’re acting all wishy-washy… My reputation is on the line.”

  “I’m not trying to get you in trouble any more than I want to get myself in trouble. But I think maybe… I need to walk away from this.”

  “Walk away from it? You think you can just walk away from it?” There was a definite threat in the gruff-voiced man’s tone.

  “I won’t say anything. I won’t expose anyone else. I just think that… for myself… this isn’t something I can be involved in.”

  “You were fine when it was someone else taking all of the risks. But now that you’re being asked to take an active part yourself, you’ve decided that your conscience is bothering you?”

  “Well… I just… I guess I’ve been thinking, and I just can’t risk it.”

  “Maybe you should stop thinking and just listen to what you’re told.”

  “I really don’t think I can.”

  Erin pressed against the wall, ears pricked, hand pressed against her mouth. She didn’t even know what the stakes were, and she was all wrapped up in the conversation, worrying about what was going to happen to the breathy-voiced one. Terry said she was always getting involved in things that weren’t her business, worrying about things that weren’t her problem and people who weren’t her responsibility. This was a classic example. Two people she didn’t even know, and she wanted to protect the one who was being threatened.

  Chapter Nine

  W

  ell… I guess that’s what I have to report back,” the gruff voice sighed.

  Erin breathed out in relief. Nothing was going to happen. Nothing that she was going to see or hear. Whatever drama was left to play out would happen somewhere else, not in her presence. They would move on and she wouldn’t have any involvement in it.

  She wondered briefly what she would tell Terry, and tried to compose a script in her head that would explain why she had been out wandering on the decks and how she had happened to overhear the strange conversation. She inched closer to one of the portholes that looked out to the outside of the deck to see if she could catch a glimpse of the two men talking. She might not be able to tell Terry what it had been about, but he was going to ask her who had been talking, and she wouldn’t be able to tell him anything. She hadn’t even seen their shadows or whether they wore uniforms.

  She couldn’t see much through the porthole. It was at the wrong angle to see the speakers, at least from the angle Erin was at. She got close to the window and pressed her face close to try to see them. If they happened to look up at the wrong time, they were going to spot her, but that was a risk Erin was going to have to take. She could just see the two shapes. Men, average height, one of them quite a bit broader than the other. By their voices, that would be the aggressor. A deeper, raspier voice. Neither was looking toward her, so she couldn’t see their faces. The bigger of them was in a white suit, obviously a crew member in uniform. The other was in darker clothes. An off-duty crew member or a passenger, or one of the other men she had seen working in maintenance or other unskilled jobs around the ship.

  If they were still talking, they were now too quiet for her to make out their words. Maybe the gruff man had dropped to a whisper to sound more threatening or to give instructions that no one could overhear. They both looked away from the ship, out over the water; there was not any danger they would spot Erin unless they turned all the way around.

  The bigger man pointed to something out on the horizon. Erin strained her eyes to try to see what it was he was pointing to, but she could see nothing. She wa
s a few feet farther back than they were, and looking through the porthole, which blocked some of the visibility. Erin pressed her forehead against the wall, trying to make out what it was.

  The thinner man leaned forward, straining to see. The big man put a hand on his back, encouraging him to look, pressing him forward slightly.

  Then as Erin watched, the big man lifted his hand off of the other man’s back, and raised it up high.

  Erin strangled back a cry of warning. She couldn’t bring attention to herself. She couldn’t let either one of them know that she was there.

  The man’s fist fell, crashing into the other man’s head.

  There was a shout of pain and alarm, fully-voiced instead of a whisper. The smaller man turned on the other, shoving him back, fighting with him.

  The bigger man was landing more blows, trying to beat the other into submission.

  Erin looked around for some sort of weapon. She could hit the bigger man from behind, stop him from his attack. But there wasn’t anything she could use. Especially not without endangering herself. These were obviously bad people. She didn’t want to be caught in their crosshairs.

  She could see nothing she could use as a weapon.

  She had no way to call for help.

  She hadn’t seen anyone else close by on the deck that she could call out to. She didn’t have a phone or radio or any way to reach Terry or anyone else. She shook her head and bit the inside of her cheek, berating herself for not bringing a phone with her.

  While she had looked away to assess any weapons or look for a way to get help, the struggle outside had progressed. The two men fought tooth and nail, the smaller one still getting some good blows in.

  It looked like he was going to get away.

  But then there was a blow that made the smaller man stop struggling. All of a sudden, he was limp in the bigger man’s arms.