by Nell Hampton
“Jasper Fedman,” he stood, leaving his coffee cup on the table. “I’m the head kitchen gardener.”
“He supplies the fresh organic herbs and veggies for the kitchen,” I explained.
“I brought a bucket of fresh new potatoes,” he said, pointing to where he left the bucket by the door. “I thought you could use them for the family’s meals.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” I said, waving as Jasper left. He was gorgeous and had kissed me once. It was my first week in London, and he’d taken me out for drinks. We spent the evening talking. I had a boyfriend at the time, but we had been separated. At the end of the night, Jasper walked me to my door and, in that moment, kissed me. A lot happened between then and now. I broke up with my boyfriend and settled into my life at the palace. I wondered if Jasper was ever going to kiss me again.
“Nice to meet you, Chef,” Agnes said and shook my hand as well. She unbuttoned her trench coat and hung it on the coat hooks by the door. “What are we cooking for breakfast today?”
I handed her a white apron and grabbed my chef coat. “Start by boiling some new potatoes,” I said. “We can incorporate them into an egg casserole. I’m cooking breakfast sausages and bacon, as well as buns and cinnamon rolls.”
“Sounds ambitious,” she said and tied the apron around her thick waist.
“Not too bad,” I said. I started the rolls last night and they are in the proofer for the final proof right now. “Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? I’ve got the kettle on.”
“Tea for me,” she said. “But I can fix it myself.”
Perfect. It seemed like Agnes was going to fit right into the kitchen. Maybe this time I found someone who would stick.
*
It was late afternoon and I had finished the family’s tea service when Penny came dragging into the kitchen. “You look beat,” I said and began to make a pot of Earl Grey tea without her even asking. “How late were you out last night?”
Penny looked sheepish. “I got in about four this morning.”
“That’s about the time I was getting up to work,” I said. “I’m glad I didn’t go. Did you at least have a good time?”
“Oh, yes,” Penny said. “Evie Green is over the moon about some guy. But it turns out he’s married. She thinks that he might leave his wife for her.”
“Oh, that’s no good,” Agnes said from the side of the kitchen where she prepped the salad for that night’s dinner. “Married men who cheat are all snakes. If they cheat on their wife, believe you me, they will cheat on their mistress.”
“Evie says this guy wouldn’t do that to her.”
“Did she tell you who it was?”
“No,” Penny said. “She said it was still very new and all hush-hush.”
“What about you and Rachel?” I asked. “Did you pick up anyone new and exciting?”
“Rachel says she has her eye on one of the guys at the palace, but she won’t tell me who because it’s still in the flirting stages. Really, next time I need to go out with you,” Penny said, shaking her head. Her blonde hair danced in perfect waves. “I know you’re not seeing anyone and you would be a great wingman, er, woman.”
“Well, thanks, I think.”
“Nothing good ever comes out of partying on a week night,” Agnes said with a shake of her head. “You girls are better off staying home and catching up on your sleep. Trust me, you won’t regret it in your fifties.”
Penny sent me a side eye. “I might be dead when I’m fifty and then what good will my staying home be?”
“Don’t even kid that,” I said. “Did I tell you I saw some guy peeking in the kitchen window late last night?”
“What?! No, that’s disturbing.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Agnes asked, her hands on her wide hips.
“I don’t know,” I said, “But it was creepy. I called security. Ian came out and didn’t find anything. He’s looking over the video cameras now.”
“Wow, after Mr. Deem’s murder, I’d be spooked by that,” Penny said.
“A man was murdered here?” Agnes asked.
“It was no big deal,” I downplayed what had happened.
“Mr. Deems was one of Carrie Ann’s previous assistants. He went toes up inside the greenhouse.”
I gave Penny a serious shush look. “It was totally solved and the evil-doers went to prison.”
“I thought you said your last assistants left because they didn’t like the close quarters here.”
“That’s true,” I said. “They renovated the kitchen greenhouse after the murder and we were stuck in Chef Butterbottom’s test kitchen. It was a bit of a hardship, but that shouldn’t happen again.”
“Okay,” Agnes said and went back to preparing vegetables. “So long as I know what’s going on around here, I’ll stay.”
“Even knowing some guy was peering in the window?” Penny asked.
I sent her another look.
“What?” She mouthed and shrugged her pale-blue-sweater-clad shoulders. Penny was always well-dressed. Today she coordinated her sweater and a blue and white tweed pencil skirt and kitten-heeled pumps.
She made my white-shirt-and-black-pants outfit feel frumpy. But then again, I wasn’t working with the duchess, and my outfits were generally covered by my white chef’s coat.
While her hair was cut in a pretty, perfectly wavy lob, my mass of unruly hair was pulled back tightly into a ponytail.
“I trust security can handle a Peeping Tom,” Agnes said.
“Yes,” I agreed quickly and put my arm through Penny’s, dragging her out in the hall. “I’m positive Ian will have things well in hand.”
“Oops,” Penny said as the kitchen door closed behind us. “Sorry.”
“The last thing I need is to lose another assistant.”
“You brought up the creepy Peeping Tom,” she rightly pointed out.
I sighed. “Ian thinks it’s someone who works at the palace. How else would they have access to the employee parking area?”
“Makes sense to me.”
“Hey, how are the plans for the bridal shower?”
“Oh, yes, that’s what I was going to tell you,” she said. “The duchess has a conflict of interest and can’t make the shower.”
“But she’s putting on the shower…”
“Yes, she knows, but some sort of state affair came up and, well, you know family business comes before hosting a party for her employee’s sister.”
“Her friend’s sister who is also her friend,” I reminded Penny.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. The duchess is beside herself that she has to cancel her appearance. She has gone ahead and reserved the Orangery for us.”
“The Orangery? Isn’t that bigger than her apartments?”
“Not too much,” Penny said. “And really it makes sense to hold it in such a lovely place if her apartments aren’t available.”
“Except for one thing, I don’t work in the kitchen at the Orangery. That’s a public kitchen and it belongs to Chef Wright.”
“But that’s the good news,” Penny said. “Since we simply have to change venues, the duchess worked it out so that you can still cater the affair. Chef Wright has graciously bowed out.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that for a moment,” I said. “No chef graciously lets another chef into their space to serve food that is not on their menu.”
“Well, Chef Wright is going to do just that.” Penny patted my shoulder. “All you have to do is take your food to the Orangery and serve us there instead of at the duchess’s apartments.”
“I think I’d better meet with Chef Wright first,” I said. The change of venue wouldn’t be that bad except now I have to deal with another chef and his ego.
“I don’t think you will have a problem with Chef Wright,” Penny said. “He’s not like Butterbottom. Chef Wright has a reputation as a lover of the ladies.” Penny wiggled her eyebrows. “But he’s married so don’t let him get too close.”
I shook my head at her. “I’m not the kind to hang around married men,” I said.
“Right now, you don’t seem to be the kind to hang around any man.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means you need to get out and have a life,” Penny teased me. “You can’t rely on a Peeping Tom to fill your life with excitement.”
“You make me sound like an old spinster.” I pouted.
“I’m simply pointing out that you are young and gorgeous, and yet you’re spending all your time tucked away in a tiny kitchen. The boys at the bar have been asking about you.”
“Which bar?” I asked, as I had only been to two. One had been Jasper’s family’s bar, the other a local bar where they held Mr. Deems’s wake.
“Jasper’s bar, of course,” Penny said and smiled at me. “You can’t hide in your kitchen and expect men to come to you. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh and a bit of a smile for my new friend. “How about we plan to go out Monday? It’s my day off and the shower will be over and done with.”
“Perfect,” she said. “I’ll get the girls together to pick you up at nine PM.”
“Fine.”
“Good,” she said and stepped down the hall. “Don’t forget to get tarted up a bit—it will be good for you.” She waved and hurried up the stairs to the family’s living quarters and the office where she worked.
I had no idea what I would wear. My closet was filled with sturdy black pants and white button-down shirts. It seemed I would have to make a trip to a store to get some kind of going-out outfit. Whatever that might entail, I knew it wouldn’t be as colorful as Penny’s.
Next on my list was to make an appointment to see Chef Wright and ensure he really was okay with my catering a party in his domain.
Chapter 3
The Orangery is a brick enclosed pavilion inside the gardens at Kensington Palace and away from the Palace itself. It was open to the public for lunch and high tea from ten AM until four PM. The bridal shower was set for six PM on Saturday.
I made an appointment to meet with Chef Wright at the end of his day on Friday. That way the family had tea and it gave me plenty of time to cook supper after the meeting.
It was a lovely spring day, warm enough that I didn’t need a jacket as I crossed the gardens to the Orangery. The wind blew stray hairs out of my ponytail, but I smiled as the sun hit my face. It seemed to be rainy or foggy at some point every day; I was lucky to be between clouds.
The gardens were decked out in their spring flowers. Tulips, purple status, pink phlox, hedges, and flowering trees filled the air with fragrant scents and the smell of warmed damp earth and green grass.
I saw that they had opened the doors to the pavilion to let in some of the light spring air. Inside, a few tables still filled with late tea and tourists.
“May I help you?” A young man in a white shirt, black slacks, and white apron asked when I entered.
“Yes, I have an appointment to see Chef Wright.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll check with him.”
I waited while the young man went to the back. It was my first time in the Orangery with its elegant columns, lovely view, and long, narrow seating area. As I was glancing around, I froze. I thought I saw a shorter waiter with big ears going around to the back. Was that the Peeping Tom in my window? I took a few steps toward where he was, but the young man interrupted me.
“Miss—”
“It’s Chef,” I said. “Chef Cole.”
“Excuse me, Chef, Chef will see you now. If you’ll follow me, please.”
I followed behind the young man, who I assumed was a maître d’. “Excuse me, but I thought I saw someone I know working here,” I said as we walked toward the kitchen. “He is shorter than you and has kind of big ears…”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are talking about,” he said with an apologetic smile. “This is my second day here.” He walked me through the kitchen to the small back office. “Chef Wright? Chef Cole to see you.”
“Thanks, Mel,” the man inside the office said. “Come on in, Chef.”
I stepped inside the small, cramped office. Like most chefs’ offices, it was filled with recipe books, menus, and the paperwork that comes with ordering food and controlling inventory and personnel.
The man himself was tall and lanky with a quick smile and a warm brown gaze. He held out his hand and looked me straight in the eyes as if I was the most important person in the world to him at that very moment. I must say, it was flattering.
“Hi,” I said, shaking his hand. “I’m Carrie Ann Cole. I work for the duke and duchess—”
“Of Cambridge, of course, I’ve heard good things about the American they’ve employed. But I didn’t hear how beautiful she was.”
I felt the blush rush right up my cheeks. He gently enclosed my hand in both of his, and it was oddly intimate. I pulled my hand from his.
“Thank you,” I said. My mother had taught me to acknowledge a compliment no matter how odd. “I’m here to talk about Saturday’s bridal shower. I understand the duchess rescheduled the venue to be here in the Orangery instead of her apartments. I wanted to ensure that you were all right with my catering the affair. I understand this is your kitchen and I—”
“Of course, of course,” he said and pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Please sit. Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? A cocktail perhaps?”
I sat down more out of reflex, and he walked over to his chair. “No, thank you, I’m fine. Are you okay with me catering on Saturday?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” he said as he sat down. He poured us each a glass of sherry and pushed one toward me. “Cheers.”
I lifted the glass to his and then took a sip. It was very good. “What a relief,” I said. “Sincerely, I didn’t want any trouble.”
“Who would have trouble with a beautiful woman such as yourself?”
“Chef Butterbottom, for one,” I said as I placed the sherry glass down on his desk. “My ex-boyfriend, for two. He would have a terrible time with someone else catering in his space.”
Chef Wright tipped his head to the side. “You said ex-boyfriend?”
“Yes. We broke up over my decision to stay in London and work for the duke and duchess.”
“He sounds like a terrible man. Who would throw away the love a gorgeous woman?”
I felt the blush creep up my neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to talk about personal matters.” I stood. “I simply wanted to make sure you were okay with my catering the party.”
“Yes, of course, whatever you need,” he said sincerely. He stood with me.
“Good, okay, well, thank you.”
“Let me show you the kitchen,” he said, coming around the desk. He opened the door and put his hand on my back to guide me out.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,” I said, stepping out of his reach. “I’m cooking and baking everything in my kitchen. We’ll bring it over and unpack and serve it here.”
I thought I heard a clicking sound and turned to look over my shoulder, but there was no one there.
“I really need to get back to my kitchen. There’s dinner to finish and such.” I stuck out my hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you and I’ll be sure to return your kitchen to you clean and ready for Sunday lunch.”
“Thank you,” he said and walked beside me to the now deserted dining area.
“Wait,” I said, stopping in front of the door. “I thought I saw a waiter here. He was about this tall.” I put my hand to the bottom of my eyes. “He has short hair and his ears kind of stick out.”
“It sounds like you are talking about Wentworth Uleman,” he said. “Did you need him for something?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just thought I saw him looking into my kitchen window the other day, then today I saw him here. I wondered who he was and what he wanted.”
“That sounds like Wentworth. D
on’t mind him. He is a staple around here. Good guy, actually. He shows up to work every day and works anywhere he’s needed in the palace area. His grandmum worked for Princess Anne, so they have a long family history here. He probably just wanted to get a look at the lovely American.” Chef Wright winked at me. “Can’t say that I blame him.”
“He could stop and say hello like a normal human,” I said. “If you see him, please tell him to stop peering in my window. It’s disconcerting.”
“Of course, of course,” Chef Wright said. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” I stepped off onto the path. “Have a good day.”
Wentworth Uleman was the name of the man who peered in my window. The same man who I saw at the Orangery. I pulled up my cell phone and called Ian Gordon.
“Gordon,” he said into the phone.
“Hi Ian, it’s Carrie Ann. I think I know who was peering in my window the other day.”
“Wentworth Uleman,” he said.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“I was getting ready to call you. We identified him on the video. He was definitely lurking outside your window at the time of your call. I called him in to the office. He seems harmless. He said he saw your light on and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“By staring at me like a creeper?”
“I’ve put a warning in his personnel record. He understands if he is caught doing anything like this again he will be let go.”
“Okay,” I said. “Good. I’m glad.”
“I told you I would take care of things,” Ian said.
“I know, thanks.”
“Any time.” “Let me know if he bothers you again.”
“Oh, I will,” I said as I walked through the garden. “I owe you a dessert of your choice. Do you like pie?”
“I’m partial to coconut,” he said.
“I’ll make one just for you.”
“Goodbye, Chef.”
“Bye, Chief.” I hung up my phone. Chef Wright seemed a little too slick, but it was nice to have a calm man like Ian Gordon watching your back.
The garden was still lovely even as the afternoon turned to dusk. I hurried along because I had dinner to make. Agnes would have everything prepped by now, and I didn’t want to be late.