Christmas in London

by Anita Hughes

  Louisa hung up and finished writing her recipe card. She slipped it into the envelope and grabbed her purse. Then she entered the hallway and knocked on Kate’s door.

  “Louisa!” Kate opened the door. “I’m glad you’re here, I want to go over a few things. It seems simple to crack eggs into a mixing bowl on the set, but I’ve even seen Martha Stewart freeze up when the director is barking at her.”

  “I can’t imagine Martha Stewart ever freezing up,” Louisa laughed. “She’s like an impossibly sleek sports car that never leaves the showroom. But Noah said it’s easy.” She was suddenly nervous. “All I have to do is stand on the X and smile into the camera.”

  “It is easy as long as you don’t let anyone distract you.” Kate poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to Louisa. “You are a wonderful chef and you’re going to make a delicious croquembouche.”

  “I promise I won’t let you down.” Louisa felt a thrill of excitement. “I’m going to practice my smile until I look like the models in magazines who have never had bad news. I’ll go to sleep dreaming of spun sugar and pastry puffs, and tomorrow I’ll stay in bed until the show so nothing terrible can happen: slipping on the bathroom floor and twisting my ankle or getting run over by a motorcycle.”

  “You don’t have to go to extremes,” Kate laughed. “Just do what I do before a show. Take deep breaths and imagine the thing that makes you happy.”

  “The thing that makes me happy?” Louisa wondered if Kate knew about her and Noah. It would be terribly unprofessional and Noah might get fired.

  “A movie that you love or dress you saw in the window at Saks,” Kate continued. “Then the smile on your face will be natural.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Louisa said with relief. She noticed a vase of two dozen peach-colored roses and gasped. “I’ve never seen such beautiful roses.”

  “McQueens delivered them this morning.” Kate followed her glance. “They were grown in a hothouse and transported in a temperature-controlled truck. I was shocked when they arrived, but they are lovely.”

  “You don’t seem very excited.” Louisa looked at Kate. “I know we don’t know each other well, but do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to tell someone what’s wrong. I’m a good listener.”

  “The flowers are just unexpected.” Kate sat opposite her. “Trevor and I were going to remain friends and now it’s developed into something more.”

  “That isn’t what you want?” Louisa prodded.

  “Producing the show is a twelve-hour-a-day job. I can’t flit off to London for a few days or spend whole weekends with him if he comes to New York.”

  “You said you didn’t want to be alone forever,” Louisa reminded her.

  “I don’t, but this might not be the right time,” Kate answered.

  “Then tell him to wait,” Louisa said confidently. “If you’ve been apart for ten years, you won’t change how you feel about each other.”

  “That’s the thing about love.” Kate fiddled with her earring. “Once you give yourself over to it, nothing is the same. You want to be with that person all the time, and it’s the most important thing in the world.”

  “I’m not even going to consider falling in love until I own my restaurant.” Louisa remembered Noah’s kiss and had a funny feeling in her chest. “Now tell me all your other suggestions. I want Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s to be the best show you’ve ever produced.”

  * * *

  Louisa rang Digby’s doorbell and had to smile. This time the doorman welcomed her profusely and offered to escort her to Digby’s flat. The woman she shared the elevator with complimented Louisa’s rose-colored cashmere dress and asked where she got her pumps. She even made Louisa write down the name of her perfume so should could buy a bottle for her daughter.

  “Louisa.” Digby opened the door. He wore a striped robe and blue velvet slippers. “This is a surprise, please come inside.”

  “I hope I’m not intruding.” Louisa entered the flat. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “I never check my phone before 10:00 a.m., it can ruin my whole day,” Digby said. “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll get dressed and make some coffee.”

  Louisa had never been in the living room before; she always walked straight to the kitchen. The sun streamed onto the parquet floor and it looked like a photo in Architectural Digest. Leather sofas were arranged around a glass coffee table and there were white bookshelves. A bronze statue stood in the corner and bay windows overlooked a garden.

  She perched on an armchair and suddenly wondered if this was a bad idea. Noah wouldn’t approve of Digby answering the door in a robe and slippers. But it was Noah’s fault the rest of her day was tightly scheduled, and Digby had to try her rice pudding.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Digby said, entering the room. “I must apologize for my behavior yesterday, I was quite rude. My publisher insisted I sign all those cookbooks and I was in a hurry. I hope it wasn’t inconvenient for you taking the books to Claridge’s.”

  “Of course not, it has nothing to do with that.” Louisa flushed. “It’s about the rice pudding. You thought it was lumpy.”

  “Did I say that?” he wondered. “The master classes can be overwhelming. My palate can’t handle too many chocolate fondants or linzer tortes before they all taste the same. You’re a talented chef, I’m sure it was delicious.”

  “You were right, it was lumpy. But I made another batch and it’s perfect.” She handed him the bowl. “You don’t need to try it right away, one doesn’t eat rice pudding for breakfast. I’ll leave it here and you can tell me what you think tomorrow at Claridge’s.”

  “Nonsense, if you went to all this trouble I’ll try it now,” he insisted. “I’ll get two spoons and you can join me.”

  Digby disappeared and Louisa walked to the bookshelf. The spines on the cookbooks were printed with the names of her idols: Anthony Bourdain and Paul Bucose and Alice Water. There was a signed cookbook by Alain Ducasse and a whole shelf devoted to Julia Child.

  “Here we are.” Digby returned, holding two spoons. “You are the chef, you take the first bite.”

  Louisa ate a spoonful of pudding and it tasted even better than she remembered. She waited for Digby to try it and had never been so anxious.

  “The flavor is delicious,” Digby said finally.

  “And the texture?” She sucked in her breath.

  “The texture is like a fine brandy,” he mused. “It sits on your tongue for a moment, and then dissolves in your throat.”

  Louisa’s heart lifted and she remembered her first class at the Culinary Institute. She baked a raspberry cheesecake and was terrified the raspberries were tart or the date on the cream cheese expired. The instructor ate a whole slice and asked if he could serve it at a dinner party. Louisa was so happy; she couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Do you really think so?” She exhaled. “I hoped you’d like it.”

  “In fact, it would be an excellent addition to the Christmas lunch I’m preparing tomorrow,” he said suddenly. “You should join me.”

  “But tomorrow is Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s,” she reminded him.

  “I’ve been asked to prepare Christmas lunch at a country house about two hours from London,” he explained. “The kitchen has every gadget you can imagine, and Town & Country is doing a four-page photo spread.”

  “Town & Country!” Louisa gasped. “But how will you prepare lunch and get back in time to do Claridge’s?”

  “I’m going to bake the puddings and leave them in the fridge. I couldn’t turn it down, members of the royal family will be there.” He smiled. “It will go much more smoothly if you assist me, and you’ll have your photo in Town & Country. I promise we’ll return in time.”

  Could she really drive two hours out of London the morning of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s? She told Kate she wouldn’t do anything all day, but surely Kate wouldn’t mind. And Louisa didn�
�t have any other commitments besides getting her hair and makeup done in the afternoon.

  Noah wouldn’t be happy that she was assisting Digby. But he would have to understand; after all, his job was important to him too. He practically begged her to come to London because he was afraid he’d get fired if he didn’t have a replacement for Bianca.

  The sun made patterns on the bookshelves and she couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  “I’d love to.” She turned to Digby. “What time will we leave?”

  “I’ll pick you up at 10:00 a.m. We can buy the ingredients on the way.” He looked at Louisa. “Why don’t you wear that dress? The color will look wonderful in the photo spread.”

  She and Digby flipped through cookbooks and talked about Gordon Ramsay’s recipe for Christmas bombe with cherry-flavored syrup. They were both fans of Thomas Keller’s white cake encrusted with coconut and thought Jamie Oliver’s chestnut torte with honeycomb was delicious.

  Louisa noticed the time and said she would see him tomorrow. She hurried down Brook Street and hoped she wasn’t late to meet Noah.

  “There you are.” Noah stood on the steps of Claridge’s. “I knocked on your suite but you weren’t there. I thought something happened.”

  “The best thing happened,” she announced. “I took Digby my rice pudding and he said it was delicious. You see, it had nothing to do with what I was wearing. Yesterday’s rice pudding was lumpy, but this time it was perfect.”

  “Did he really say that?” Noah asked, eyeing her red dress and leather pumps.

  “I see the way you’re looking at me,” she snapped. “I had to dress nicely this morning for the show. You said the rice pudding was the best thing you ever tasted. Why shouldn’t I believe that Digby felt the same?”

  “It was excellent,” he relented.

  “And there’s more,” she said excitedly. “He made the most amazing offer.”

  Noah glanced at his watch and took her arm.

  “You’ll have to tell me about it on the way. We have an appointment at the Royal Mews and we can’t keep Buckingham Palace waiting.”

  Noah stopped in front of a carriage with black leather seats and red spoke wheels. The driver wore a liveried uniform and two black horses were outfitted with elaborate reins.

  “What are you doing?” she wondered. “I thought we were taking a tour bus.”

  “You were freezing on the bus and I was afraid you’d twist your ankle running up and down the stairs,” he explained. “The carriage has a blanket and the driver well help you in and out.”

  “We’re going to sightsee in a horse and buggy?” Louisa turned to Noah and her eyes were bright.

  “I can’t think of a better way to see London.” He smiled. “Let’s go, we can’t be late.”

  Louisa felt like she was in a movie where every scene is so gorgeous, you can’t take your eyes off the screen. Belgravia Square was filled with elegant boutiques, and St James’s Palace was surrounded by a wide park and iron gates. The London Eye was the biggest Ferris wheel she had ever seen and Westminster Palace took up an entire city block.

  They toured the Royal Mews and she posed in front of gold carriages and silver Rolls-Royces. And the horses! There were Windsor Greys and Cleveland Bays and Belgium Blacks. Louisa fed a horse a sugar cube and felt like a schoolgirl who snuck into the stables in Central Park.

  She tried to tell Noah about Digby’s offer, but the clip-clopping of the carriage made it impossible to talk. It would have to wait until they finished sightseeing.

  The carriage turned onto Oxford Street and stopped in front of Selfridges department store. It was like some impossibly huge wedding cake with white pillars and revolving doors. The windows were filled with rocking horses and teddy bears and gold boxes piled like an Egyptian pyramid.

  “I’ve been smiling so much my cheeks belong on a chipmunk.” Louisa grimaced. “If we come back later, I promise I’ll sample a Christmas hamper or pretend to pop Christmas crackers. Right now I need to sit down and have a cup of coffee.”

  “We’re not going to do any of those things.” Noah helped her out of the carriage. “I sent the cameramen home.”

  “Then why are we here?” she wondered.

  Noah looked at her and his eyes danced. “To buy you a Christmas present.”

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “We fly back to New York on Christmas night and won’t have a proper Christmas at all,” he began. “If I was home, I’d spend Christmas reading law books. But you didn’t tell me how you celebrate Christmas. For all I know, you’re giving up a family Christmas with a ten-foot tree and giant turkey.”

  “I’m usually too exhausted to do anything.” Louisa sighed. “Last year my friends wanted me to attend a dinner party and go caroling. I stayed in my apartment and ate deli turkey sandwiches and red velvet Christmas torte.”

  “I asked Kate if I could put a gift on the expense account.” He pushed open the glass doors. “Choose anything you like. I’ll have it wrapped up and delivered to you on Christmas morning.”

  They entered the store and Louisa caught her breath. A white Christmas tree was decorated with miniature music boxes and blue Wedgwood teacups. Salesgirls wore bright wool dresses and glass cases were filled with scarves and jewelry.

  “You want me to choose anything?” Louisa turned to Noah.

  “I already offered you my leather jacket, and you turned down the keys to my car.” He grinned. “Pick something that will make you happy every time you look at it.”

  Louisa gulped and suddenly wanted Noah to kiss her. But so many wonderful things were happening: she was part of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s, and she was going to be featured in Town & Country with Digby. She didn’t have time to fall in love.

  “I can’t remember the last time I shopped for anything besides a measuring cup,” she said and laughed. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start wherever you like,” Noah replied. “There are five floors and we have all afternoon.”

  She sampled Jo Malone lotions and scribbled with a Mont Blanc pen and admired a pair of Burberry rain boots. There was a White Company duvet that would have been heavenly on her bed, and mimosa-scented candles.

  “Why would anyone want an eighteen-karat cell phone case, that’s an invitation to get robbed,” she wondered. “And these pink slippers are warm but the pompoms make them look like mice.”

  “This is Selfridges. They have to sell things that are out of the ordinary,” he said. “No one wants a can opener or garden hose for Christmas.”

  Louisa noticed a glass case filled with Christmas ornaments. There was a Christmas angel and a crystal snowflake. She admired pewter bells and a polar bear wearing a bow tie.

  “This is what I want.” She pointed to a red phone booth with a gold hook.

  “You could have a bracelet or earrings and you want a Christmas ornament of a phone booth?”

  “You said I should choose something that makes me happy.” Louisa turned to Noah. “We don’t have classic phone booths in New York anymore. I’ll hang it in my kitchen. Every time I look at it, I’ll remember Christmas in London.”

  Noah leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth was soft and her whole body tingled.

  “It’s a perfect gift,” he agreed. “I’ll tell the salesgirl to wrap it up.”

  They sat in Selfridges Kitchen restaurant on the fourth floor and shared a warm goat cheese salad. Shoppers ate buttered scones and there was an electric feeling in the air of desperately wanting Christmas to arrive but not wanting the holidays to end.

  “We don’t have to be at Claridge’s kitchen until 7:00 p.m. tomorrow, so I thought we could start the day at Balthazar. You need one proper British breakfast of fried eggs and sausage.” Noah stopped and smiled. “Though I won’t make you eat grilled tomato. There is nothing worse than a cooked vegetable in the morning.

  “I got tickets to a Christmas pantomime,” he continued. “It’s not Christmas unless you�
�re surrounded by children, and the pantomimes are some of the best theater in London. We can ice-skate at Hampton Court and attend early services at Westminster Abbey. We’ll be back to Claridge’s with plenty of time for hair and makeup.”

  Louisa gulped her coffee so quickly it burned the back of her throat.

  “It sounds wonderful, Noah. But I’m afraid I can’t,” she announced. “I’m busy all day.”

  “What do you mean you’re busy? You can’t be taking another master class,” he said teasingly. “It’s Christmas Eve. You don’t want to spend it making gingerbread cookies in Digby Bunting’s kitchen.”

  “It’s something much more exciting,” Louisa said. “Digby has been asked to prepare Christmas lunch at an estate in the country. It’s for a very important client and Town & Country is going to do a four-page spread.” She took a deep breath. “He asked me to assist him.”

  “You and Digby want to run off to the British countryside on the day of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s,” Noah said quietly.

  “You make it sound like we’re doing something wrong,” she countered. “We’re just going to prepare the puddings and leave them in the fridge. We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not a good idea.” Noah shook his head. “What if his car breaks down or you burn your hand on the stove? I’d rather you didn’t go anywhere without me.”

  “Digby drives a late-model Range Rover and I’ve never burned myself cooking,” she assured him. “My rice pudding is going to be on the menu and the guest list includes members of the royal family.”

  “It wouldn’t make a difference if the Queen herself shows up,” he begged. “We’ve worked too hard to have the show derailed by a pompous chef who thinks he’s a cross between George Clooney and Michelangelo.”

  “This is always about Digby!” she gasped. “I don’t know what you have against him. He has been nothing but kind and this is a golden opportunity. When people see my photo in Town & Country, they will flock to my new restaurant.”