Christmas in London

by Anita Hughes

  Louisa noticed Noah trailing behind them and wished Noah could hear them. Digby thought she was talented enough to have her own kitchen!

  “I’m going to open a restaurant in New York,” she answered. “It will specialize in desserts: poached rhubarb in the spring and mint chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches in summer and maple cheesecakes in the fall. At Christmas I’ll sell Scandinavian princess cakes with white and blue frosting, and eggnog mousse and croquembouche. The croquembouche will be so delicious, people won’t mind sitting in the subway or being jostled on the midtown bus to pick one up for Christmas.”

  “I envy you,” he admitted.

  “What do you mean?” she wondered.

  “I’d give anything to spend all my time whisking eggs for a custard tart or paring apples for an apple crumble,” he explained. “Instead I’m approving merchandise deals and scheduling book tours. Last week Hello said my barber comes to my flat because I’m too spoiled to visit the hair salon. The truth is I don’t have time for a haircut and shave. At home, I can read contracts while he’s cutting my hair and my manager can go over my itinerary while I’m getting a shave.”

  “I don’t understand.” She frowned. “You’re so successful, you can do whatever you want.”

  “There’s always some wunderkind poised to take over,” he answered. “The cooking world is as bad as acting. If your name isn’t on social media or your face isn’t on television, people forget about you.”

  “Why not give it all up and focus on your cooking?” she asked. “You must have enough money. Your last cookbook was on the New York Times best seller list for two years.”

  “My publisher has invested in me for ages, I can’t let them down. And what would happen to everyone who works on my television specials?” he responded. “I can’t turn my back on people that depend on me because I’d rather make tapioca pudding in an English manor.”

  Louisa looked up and saw Noah tapping his watch.

  “It’s almost 10:00 a.m.!” she exclaimed. “I should go.”

  “There’s somewhere I want to show you first,” Digby said and took her arm.

  They turned onto Ebury Street and entered a shop with a red front door and striped awnings. R CHOCOLATE was scrawled in gold letters over the window and chocolate boxes were wrapped in pink tissue paper.

  Digby opened the door and Louisa inhaled the heavenly scent of cocoa and nutmeg. Every surface was covered in chocolates! Fudge bars were stacked in pyramids and sea salt caramels were arranged like pieces on a chessboard, and there were glass cases of tiramisu and chocolate fondant.

  It wasn’t just the chocolate that took Louisa’s breath away; it was the polished wood floor and marble-topped tables and old-fashioned cash register. There was an espresso machine and bottles of syrup and flavorings.

  “It’s just how I picture my restaurant,” she breathed. “The walls will be eggshell yellow and there will be a huge mirror behind the counter. Round tables will be scattered around the store and glass cases will be filled with almond cakes and fruit tarts.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” Digby beamed. “R Chocolate is one of the premier chocolatiers in London. The cocoa is imported from all over the world and they only use the finest ingredients. You can buy a single chocolate truffle or sit at a table and sample soufflés and éclairs.”

  “I can’t imagine picking out just one chocolate,” Louisa laughed. “That’s like standing in Tiffany’s and being asked to choose only one diamond.”

  “Let me put together an assortment,” Digby suggested.

  He moved around the store and selected pralines and pastel-colored macarons. There were chocolate nougats and hazelnut rochers.

  “You’re not buying all these?” she asked in astonishment.

  “We’ll try some here, and you can take the ones you like best.” He offered her a chocolate profiterole. “This is one of my favorites: a whipped cream filling coated with caramel and Peruvian dark chocolate.”

  Louisa took a bite and tasted butter and cream and the lightest touch of caramel.

  “It’s the best profiterole I ever tasted,” she agreed.

  “You have a spot of caramel on your cheek,” he said and put his finger on her cheek. He wiped the caramel carefully and suddenly there was a crash.

  “I’m sorry, I dropped my phone,” Noah explained.

  Noah bent down and knocked over a plate of chocolate marzipans. The marzipans tumbled to the ground and Noah reached down to pick them up. His jacket caught the side of a display table and a coconut chocolate cake teetered on its stand. He tried to steady it but the cake toppled and splattered all over the floor.

  “God! I’m terribly sorry.” Noah gulped, running his hands through his hair. “Why don’t you two go ahead, and I’ll clean the whole thing up.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll help.” Digby bent down and gathered macarons. “It will go much faster if we do it together.”

  “Accidents happen.” Louisa glowered at Noah. “I’ll ask the salesgirl for a broom.”

  * * *

  “What do you think you were doing?” Louisa seethed. Digby had left for an appointment and she and Noah were standing in Sloane Square.

  “It was an accident, anyone can drop their phone.” He peered down the road for a taxi. “I gave the girl behind the counter a one-hundred-pound tip. That should cover the ruined chocolate and leave a little extra for her.”

  “You were trying to make Digby uncomfortable,” she insisted.

  “Do you really think I’d create havoc in a chocolate shop because Digby put his thumb on your cheek?” he demanded.

  “You did notice!” she gasped. “It was perfectly innocent. I got a little caramel on my cheek and he wiped it off. What if he takes back the invitation to his master class? He was probably so embarrassed, he doesn’t want to see me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Noah scoffed. “If he really thinks you’re a talented chef, a mishap at the chocolatier isn’t going to change anything.”

  “That’s what this is about!” she exclaimed. “You still think he only invited me because he wants to sleep with me. He asked me what my goals are. He thinks I could be the pastry chef at a luxury hotel or Michelin-starred restaurant.”

  “He thinks all that after tasting your Bûche de Noël?”

  “This discussion isn’t going anywhere.” She strode down the sidewalk.

  “Where are you going?” He raced after her.

  “I’m supposed to be on that double-decker bus in twenty minutes, and I don’t feel like sharing a taxi.”

  “You can’t walk in those shoes.” He waved at her pumps. “We’re both overwrought. Let’s talk about it on the way.”

  “No thank you,” she said. “I’ll get my own cab.”

  “We won’t find two separate cabs at this hour,” he implored. “We’re lucky if we get one.”

  “Then I’ll catch a bus to get to the double-decker bus.” She turned and her eyes glistened. “You said I made the best cinnamon rolls and now you don’t believe in me at all. Maybe you were the one who was lying. All you wanted was someone to wear the same color lipstick as Bianca and do something nice with her hair. Digby thinks I could be a great chef and so do I.” She noticed a bus waiting at the bus stop and climbed on board.

  “I’ll see you at Claridge’s,” she called out the window. “Don’t be late, we’re on a tight schedule.”

  * * *

  Louisa sat on top of the double-decker bus and rubbed her hands. She had been so excited about the sightseeing tour of London. Kate rented out the whole bus and they were going to stop at Madame Tussauds and the Parliament building and Big Ben.

  But Louisa hadn’t realized the bus didn’t have a roof and she couldn’t stop shivering. They visited the Sherlock Holmes Pub and she ordered a hot apple cider. It was so wonderful to sit in the warm pub she almost got left behind. She had to run after the bus and bang on the door before the driver realized he’d left without her.

&nbs
p; Noah barely acknowledged her. He sat in the bottom of the bus and scribbled on his clipboard. When she asked if he liked the footage of her with Jack the Ripper, he said he’d check it later. She walked back upstairs and knew he wouldn’t be happy. The wax figure had been so lifelike, she hadn’t smiled for the camera.

  If only they hadn’t gotten into an argument. Noah accused Digby of hitting on her, when Digby had been completely professional. And what if Noah had been lying to her and didn’t think she was a talented chef? But she remembered when they met at the bakery and he marveled at her cinnamon rolls. He offered her his leather jacket and car keys and said they were the best he ever tasted.

  Noah had done so much for her: bringing her to London and making her part of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s. She shouldn’t have said terrible things to him. Now she didn’t know how to fix it.

  The bus pulled up in front of Claridge’s and Louisa entered the lobby. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace and the Christmas tree glinted like a jeweled brooch.

  She passed the Map Room and admired the teal silk sofa and sideboard set with a crystal decanter. There was a shelf of leather-bound books and a walnut desk with an upholstered chair.

  It looked so inviting with its plush red carpet and paneled walls. A woman flipped the pages of a coffee table book and she recognized Kate.

  “Louisa! What are you doing here?” Kate looked up. “I didn’t know you were back.”

  “I just arrived and I’m freezing,” Louisa answered. “It looked so cozy in here, I thought I’d have a brandy.”

  “Is that what you were wearing on the bus?” Kate glanced at her scoop-neck sweater. “No wonder you were freezing.”

  “It’s my fault.” Louisa filled a glass with gold liqueur. “I didn’t realize the bus didn’t have a roof. It was like sitting on a chairlift when it’s thirty degrees with a wind chill factor of minus ten.”

  “I’ve done that,” Kate laughed. “All I wanted was to ride the lift back to the lodge and have a hot chocolate.” She paused. “But surely Noah could have found you a jacket?”

  Louisa couldn’t tell Kate what happened. She didn’t want Noah to get in trouble.

  “Noah was preoccupied,” she said evasively. “We had a full itinerary.”

  “I’ve been answering e-mails all morning.” Kate nodded. “I love working in here. The butler serves tea and buttermilk scones and there are so many books. I’m going to a reception at Buckingham Palace and I was reading about the royal family.”

  “You’re going to Buckingham Palace?” Louisa gasped.

  “Trevor is related by marriage to the Queen,” Kate explained. “We’re going to nibble watercress sandwiches and drink champagne in the White Drawing Room. I’ve been practicing curtseying all morning.”

  “Is Trevor the man you had dinner with?” Louisa wondered. “You didn’t say he was married.”

  “He’s separated.” Kate fiddled with her earrings. “He’s staying at Claridge’s until he finds a flat. Last night we saw The Nutcracker at Covent Garden.”

  “You said your love life was boring, but you’ve seen Trevor every night.” Louisa sank onto the sofa. The brandy warmed her throat and it was nice to have someone to talk to.

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” Kate laughed. “There is something between us, but I’m leaving in a few days. And our past is complicated, one of us could get hurt.”

  “Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have time for love.” Louisa cradled her brandy snifter. “It’s easier making vanilla custard layers for a Napoleon than it is to figure out men.”

  “I’m sure men say the same about us.” Kate smiled. “The most important thing is friendship. If you’re lucky enough to find a good friend, you do everything to keep him.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Louisa agreed. “But even friends have silly arguments. How do you make things right when you’ve both been wrong?”

  “Always be the first to apologize,” Kate said emphatically. “It’s hard to be angry with someone if they said they’re sorry.”

  “That is good advice,” Louisa mused.

  “Every relationship has problems. Did you know the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge broke up during their courtship because the paparazzi wouldn’t leave them alone?” Kate turned back to her book. “The press called her Waity Katie because Prince William took so long to propose.”

  “It would be terrible to have cameras flash in your face whenever you buy a carton of milk. Though she does live in a palace and has servants to do whatever she asks.” Louisa gulped her brandy and shivered. “Right now I’d give anything if there was a hot bath waiting for me upstairs.”

  * * *

  Louisa entered her suite and placed her purse on the end table. A bouquet of purple lilies stood in a crystal vase and silver bowls were filled with macadamia nuts. The light filtered onto the scarlet sofa and the wood furniture was freshly polished.

  Digby’s second master class was tomorrow afternoon and she wanted to be prepared. She was going to run a bath and read Digby’s new cookbook. She wanted to know exactly how much ginger to add to a chocolate ginger cake in case Digby asked her in front of the other students.

  There was a knock at the door and she opened it. Noah stood in the hallway. He wore a wool coat and his hands were stuffed in his pocket.

  “Could I come in?” he asked.

  “You may as well.” Louisa walked back into the living room. “But if you came to tell me the footage in the London Dungeon was too dark, I told the cameraman to use a light. He said you always give him instructions, and you didn’t say anything about it.”

  “All the footage came out wonderfully.” Noah perched on a love seat. “Your sweater was a good choice, the turquoise looked lovely on film.”

  “I should have listened to you and worn a coat and boots. My cheeks are still numb and I can’t feel my toes.” She eyed Noah suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

  “I want to take you somewhere,” he said.

  “I’m too cold. I’m not going outside until I’ve soaked in a hot bath.” She shook her head.

  “You don’t have to go outside.” He walked to the door and smiled. “Follow me, I promise it will be worth it.”

  They took the elevator to the first floor and walked through a maze of hallways. Noah pushed open a door and entered a small kitchen. There was a silver fridge and marble counter stacked with mixing bowls and measuring cups.

  “This is the kitchen used for the private dining room,” he said. “It’s fully equipped and the pantry has every kind of spice.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” She admired the double ovens. “But why are we here?”

  “I didn’t beg you to come to London because your eyes look even bigger on camera, I asked you because your cinnamon rolls were the best I ever tasted. I knew you could stand next to those chefs and prepare a dessert Kate and Bianca would be proud of.” He paused. “I spoke to the head pastry chef. You’re going to bake cinnamon rolls for Claridge’s afternoon tea.”

  “You want me to bake cinnamon rolls that are going to be served at Claridge’s?” she gasped.

  “I already know they’re the best in New York, now we’ll know they are the finest in London.” He pointed to the fridge. “The dough is already made because we don’t have all afternoon. But I bought the ingredients for the icing. If I forgot anything, I can run down to the main kitchen.”

  Louisa walked to the sink so Noah couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  “I shouldn’t have accused you of dropping your phone to make Digby uncomfortable.” She turned around. “You would never jeopardize the show because of your feelings. It was wrong and I apologize.”

  “We both said things we shouldn’t have, but we can’t think about it now.” He pulled out a stool. “I brought my computer so I can sit here while you work.”

  “You’re going to wait while I bake cinnamon rolls?” she asked in astonishment.

  “I have to.” He opened his laptop. “Some
one has to taste them before they’re served at the most famous afternoon tea in London.”

  Louisa tied an apron around her waist and assembled cream cheese and confectioner’s sugar. The pot simmered on the stove and she felt the familiar thrill of turning butter and milk into something rich and delicious.

  The dough turned golden brown in the oven and she layered it with thick icing. The cinnamon rolls cooled and she washed mixing bowls and measuring spoons. Finally she arranged the rolls on a plate and handed one to Noah.

  He ate it carefully and put it back on the plate. He brushed crumbs from his slacks and looked at Louisa. “The cream cheese gives the icing the right texture, and the hint of vanilla is perfect. It’s delicious.”

  “You have a spot of icing on your chin.” She leaned forward and wiped his chin.

  Suddenly she had the urge to kiss him. She reached up and kissed him softly on the mouth. He kissed her back and his mouth tasted warm and sweet.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” She pulled away. “I have to go. I need to study some recipes for Digby’s master class.”

  “Louisa, wait,” Noah urged.

  “Yes?” She turned around.

  “It isn’t just the cinnamon rolls that were perfect,” he said and his eyes sparkled. “The kiss was great too.”

  Louisa raced down the hallway like Cinderella leaving the ball before the clock struck midnight. The corridors were so confusing; it took forever to reach the elevator. She was afraid Noah would follow her and it would be so awkward.

  She hadn’t meant to kiss him. It had been the glass of brandy and heady scent of cinnamon rolls.

  She recalled what Kate said about finding a good friend. Noah was one of the kindest people she’d ever met. Even if she didn’t have time for love, she couldn’t spoil their friendship.

  The elevator door opened and she stepped inside. She leaned against the paneling and remembered Noah’s lips on her mouth. Noah was right. It was the best kiss she could remember.

  Chapter Ten