LOUISA GLANCED AROUND CLARIDGE’S LOBBY and shivered with excitement. It was four days before Christmas Eve and the buzz in the air was electrifying. Bellboys balanced boxes from Harvey Nichols and families carried soft leather luggage and the odd teddy bear that couldn’t be left at home.
The morning sun glinted through the revolving glass doors and outside the sky was bright blue. Tourists in buses craned their necks to get a glimpse of Claridge’s and Louisa felt like she had been invited to some incredible party.
She had slept wonderfully and woke up light and refreshed. A silver tray of hot coffee and English muffins stood at the door and there were fresh towels in the marble bathroom. She slipped on a crepe dress and applied lipstick and mascara. The mirror caught her reflection and she felt elegant and sophisticated.
Now she slipped the card she had been writing to Chloe into a gold envelope. It was for one of her favorite recipes: candy cane lollipops made with peppermint candy canes and dipped in white chocolate. They were so easy to make and Chloe could give them out to her friends. She had to thank Noah again for making sure the cards were overnighted to Ellie. It was so thoughtful.
She looked toward the elevator and wondered when Noah would appear. She was determined to make up for not following his directions yesterday, and do something nice for him. She had asked the concierge to prepare a picnic of ham and cheese sandwiches and key lime pie. She even stopped at the gift shop and bought Noah a packet of Mentos. He sucked them so quickly; he was always running out.
A young woman wearing a plaid dress crossed the lobby and she recognized Kate.
“There you are.” Kate approached her. “It’s a gorgeous day. The view from St Paul’s Cathedral will be magnificent.”
“I read all about the cathedral,” Louisa gushed. “The original St Paul’s was destroyed by the Great Fire of London and Sir Christopher Wren was commissioned to build a new one. It sits on Ludgate Hill and the dome can be seen from anywhere in London.” She smiled. “Not that Noah will let me sightsee. We were on such a tight schedule yesterday; I couldn’t catch my breath.” She took a pair of flats from her purse. “I brought these so I can keep up between locations, and asked the concierge to pack a lunch so we don’t have to eat horrible salad sandwiches. Yesterday’s sandwich was so soggy, Noah grumbled all afternoon.”
“British kiosks aren’t known for their gourmet foods,” Kate laughed. “Didn’t Noah tell you? He’s not coming.”
“Not coming?” Louisa repeated.
“He texted and said he had to get the lens fixed on a camera.” She shrugged. “I suggested he send it out, but he insisted on going himself. He might make it to the Tower of London, but he’ll miss St Paul’s Cathedral.”
“Who will be at St Paul’s Cathedral?” Louisa asked and wondered why she felt disappointed.
“I will,” Kate said and walked toward the entrance. “Let’s get a taxi before the doorman is overwhelmed by guests asking where the best shopping is. Claridge’s might be one of the most refined hotels in London, but right now it feels like Grand Central Station.”
* * *
St Paul’s Cathedral was built in the baroque style and had huge arches and stone pillars and stained-glass windows. The ceilings were inlaid with mosaic tile and the altar was supported by gold-and-black-marble columns. It was the dome that took Louisa’s breath away. It was like some fabulous treasure chest filled with precious gold jewelry. The frescoes were blue and gold and the windows were gold flecked and the plaster walls were decorated with gold leaf.
She missed Noah telling her what to do. She could almost hear him say she resembled a stork when she craned her neck to see the ceiling; she had to be graceful like a ballerina. She didn’t have to shout when she was in the whispering gallery; the whole point was to whisper and your voice carried throughout the cathedral.
And she wished he were there to tell her not to look frightened when she entered the crypt. The tombs had been there for hundreds of years and they weren’t going to pop open. She couldn’t help it; she was never good at being in small spaces.
The view of London from the Golden Gallery at the very top of the dome was stunning and it would have been nice to share it with someone. But Noah would have said they didn’t have time to admire Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, that she could buy a postcard at the gift shop.
Finally the cameramen collected their gear and Louisa noticed Kate in the pew facing the altar.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.” Kate glanced up from her phone. “I had some e-mails that needed answering.”
“We got everything we needed.” Louisa sat beside her. “Isn’t it magnificent? Winston Churchill’s funeral was held in the cathedral and so was Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s wedding. Diana’s wedding dress was stitched with ten thousand pearls and had a twenty-five-foot train. It almost didn’t fit in the glass carriage and it took her three and a half minutes to walk down the aisle.”
“The British are wonderful at pomp and circumstance,” Kate agreed. “I remember watching the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding at Westminster Abbey on television. The pageboys were dressed in velvet outfits and flower girls wore satin ballet slippers and it was like a fairy tale. Unfortunately, in real life love seems as difficult as solving the New York Times crossword puzzle. Just when you think you’ve got it right, there’s a letter missing and you have to start again.”
“Someday, I want to get married.” Louisa sighed. “But right now love is an impossible luxury, like the heated towels in Claridge’s bathroom. It’s lovely to wrap myself in a warm towel after a bath, but I can dry off with the hand towel hanging in the shower of my apartment just as easily. I’m saving up to open my own restaurant and don’t have time to date.”
“Do you really use a hand towel after a shower?” Kate raised her eyebrow.
“Well, it feels like a hand towel. It started as a proper towel but it’s been washed so often, I’m positive it shrunk,” Louisa admitted. “I don’t even own a cat because I work such long hours, it would starve. I’m not going to stop now. Everybody has to give up something to achieve what they want, that’s how the world works.”
“My job isn’t very conducive to relationships either,” Kate mused. “There’s always some crisis that needs solving and my hours are impossible. Men aren’t very understanding when you cancel dinner because the Baked Alaska collapsed and we have to reshoot the whole segment.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re beautiful and worldly and have a fabulous career, any man would be thrilled to go out with you.” Louisa turned to Kate. “Is the man you had dinner with at Claridge’s someone important?”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked.
“It’s none of my business but after the reception at the Fumoir, I saw you having dinner with someone,” she continued. “And last night you were walking through the lobby. You looked so stunning in that red dress, I wondered if you had been on a date.”
“I ran into an old university friend.” Kate flushed. “It’s nice to have company.”
“He was gorgeous,” Louisa prodded. “Like the male lead in a series on Masterpiece Theatre. He had that sandy blond hair and English complexion that make women swoon.”
“Discussing my love life isn’t very exciting, because there’s nothing to tell.” Kate stood up and laughed. “We better get to the Tower of London or Noah will complain we messed up his schedule.”
“He’s not here, so he’ll never know,” Louisa said and felt like she made a friend. “But I am dying to see the Cullinan diamond. It’s 530 carats and the largest diamond in the world.”
* * *
Louisa paced around the living room of her suite and blinked away tears. The Tower of London had been a disaster. Kate had to rush back to Claridge’s and Louisa continued without her. The guard snapped at Louisa for getting too close to St Edward’s Crown. And just when the cameraman was satisfied with her pose in front of the Sovereign’s Sceptre, a group of schoolchildren walked into the shot.
She asked the cameraman if she could check the footage and was appalled. How was she to know that if she smiled too wide she resembled the Cheshire cat? And her yellow crepe dress made her look like she was recovering from cholera. If Noah had been there he would have noticed right away and told her to wear something else.
Now she was supposed to be in Claridge’s kitchen in half an hour and they hadn’t rehearsed. Noah promised to help her practice answering questions: Who were her influences as a chef, and which spices were in her pantry?
What if she got nervous and forgot her croquembouche recipe? Or her throat closed up and she couldn’t say anything at all?
There was a knock at the door and she opened it. Noah stood in the hallway. He wore a wool coat and carried a red Liberty bag.
“How nice of you to show up, but you missed the whole morning,” she snapped. “At St Paul’s Cathedral, I had to enter the crypt and almost had a panic attack. And at the Tower of London, I got too close to the glass case and set off the sensors. The guard was so furious, I expected him to lock me up.”
“They don’t actually use the Tower of London as a prison anymore.” Noah took off his coat.
He noticed the way her hair curved around her chin and her cheeks were brushed with powder. “Your hair is different and someone did your makeup.”
“I did it myself.” She touched her hair. “I was trying to make your job easier. I even ordered a picnic so we wouldn’t have to eat salad sandwiches, and bought Mentos so you’re not always rummaging through your pockets. But then you didn’t show up and Kate was busy, and there was no one to direct me.”
“You’re right, it’s my fault,” Noah said. “I left you in the lurch and I apologize.”
“You do?” Louisa turned around and the afternoon light reflected off the glass coffee table.
She was reminded of how stunning the suite was. The walnut sideboard was freshly polished and the scarlet sofa was scattered with silk cushions. A silver tray was set with a porcelain coffeepot and platter of soft cheeses.
“I had to get the camera lens fixed. It’s very fragile, one has to handle it like a baby.” He handed her the shopping bag. “But then I stopped at Liberty and bought you a present.”
“You bought me a present?” she asked.
“For the show, of course,” he clarified. “You were so enamored by the nut splitter, I decided you need a signature baking utensil. Martha Stewart wears her striped aprons and Bianca uses mixing bowls given to her by the pastry chef at the Ritz in Paris.” He pointed to the bag. “Go ahead and open it.”
Louisa unwrapped tissue paper and discovered a silver cake server.
“It’s for your croquembouche.” He turned it over. “I had your initials engraved on the handle.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She looked up and her eyes were bright. “I never had anything like it.”
“I didn’t think the bakery on the Lower East Side came equipped with sterling silver utensils.” He grinned. “But you’re at Claridge’s now. You need something special.”
Louisa was about to kiss him on the cheek and stopped. She remembered the kiss on the Giant Observation Wheel and suddenly felt like a girl who was too old to have sleepovers with her male best friend.
Big Ben chimed in the distance and she gasped. “We’re supposed to be downstairs, and I haven’t brushed my hair. Is my lipstick okay?”