LOUISA SAT AT A TABLE in the Foyer Restaurant at Claridge’s and consulted the breakfast menu. There was so much to choose from: smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, omelets with haddock and Mornay sauce, French toast with berries and clotted cream. The waiter named so many tea flavors it made her head spin, and the scones and pain au raisin sounded delicious.
She put down the menu and smiled. Two days ago she had been wearing wet moccasins and drinking cold coffee at a bakery on the Lower East Side. Now she was dressed in cashmere and sitting in one of the most elegant restaurants in London.
The Foyer was like an illustration in an Eloise book: elegant arches and marble columns and art deco lights illuminating starched white tablecloths. A Christmas tree stood in the corner and silver bows adorned the stone fireplace.
Louisa was tempted to flee back to her suite and have a cup of instant coffee and an apple from the minibar. She was so nervous. What if she dropped her fork on the parquet floor by accident?
But she had the morning appearance on BBC One and then her makeup and hair appointments. In the afternoon she was going to visit the Christmas markets in Hyde Park and the Tate. Noah would be furious if she didn’t stick to the schedule and she couldn’t disappoint him again.
The cocktail reception at the Fumoir had been fabulous. The other chefs were welcoming and she learned so much. Pierre Gagnaire had earned three Michelin stars and owned restaurants in Paris and Tokyo and Dubai. Andreas Caminada was the top chef in Switzerland and his restaurant in an eighteenth-century castle in the Swiss Alps sounded like something out of a storybook.
And Digby Bunting! He was so knowledgeable about British desserts; she could listen to him for hours. He told her how to make the perfect pastry for a trifle tart and that an Eton mess might have a strange name but it was the best thing she’d ever taste: strawberries and meringue with fresh cream.
A young woman wearing a red wool dress appeared at the doorway and Louisa recognized Kate’s blond hair. It was eight o’clock in the morning and Kate looked like she was dressed for a fashion show.
“There you are.” Kate approached the table. “I was hoping we could chat before your interview.”
“Please join me,” Louisa offered. “All the other tables are set with feasts that look like they’re prepared for Henry VIII. I usually manage half a cinnamon roll and coffee for breakfast,” she said sighing. “If I just order a side of stewed fruit, they’ll ask me to leave.”
“I’m not a breakfast eater but we can cobble something together.” Kate sat across from her.
“I was just finishing a card to Ellie’s daughter, Chloe.” Louisa pointed to the card next to the menu. “I promised I’d send her a Christmas recipe every day. When I get home we’re going to bake them together.” She picked up the embossed stationery. “Today’s recipe is for Gingerbread Sweaters, I found it in a cooking magazine at the hotel gift shop. You spread the gingerbread biscuits with white icing and green and red sprinkles. It resembles a Christmas sweater and it’s so festive.”
“That’s a lovely gesture. Chloe is lucky to have you as a friend.” Kate glanced at the card and then looked at Louisa. “You look lovely. Noah’s shopping expedition was a success.”
“I still feel guilty about abandoning him at Harrods,” Louisa admitted. “But I’m a chef. I don’t need my hair lightened or my eyebrows shaped or an Asprey watch. People will only be interested in whether my croquembouche is sweet and flaky and melts in your mouth.”
“Do you really believe that?” Kate asked.
“No one cared what Virginia Woolf wore to write Mrs. Dalloway, and Tchaikovsky could have been sitting at the piano in his pajamas when he composed The Nutcracker,” Louisa said earnestly. “I’m not comparing myself to them of course; I’m just a pastry chef. But I did attend cooking school and I’m serious about what I do. The only thing that is important is what comes out of the oven.”
“Baking with Bianca is seen by millions of viewers and everything on the set has to be pleasing. We can go through three cartons of ice cream getting a shot of a banana cream parfait, because the ice cream keeps melting. The lighting has to be perfect on a holiday log or it looks like a plain loaf of bread.” Kate paused. “No one wants to see Bianca in sweatpants and sneakers. She has to be like the food she presents: polished and lovely so you can’t take your eyes off her.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Louisa hesitated.
“This wool dress itches but the hotel maid took my other dresses and hasn’t returned them. I can’t stand wearing panty hose and I’d much rather leave my hair down,” Kate continued. “But when I meet the producer at BBC One, I’m representing the show. Right now you are the star of Baking with Bianca and you have to do what everyone on television does: make the camera fall in love with you.”
“I feel like an ungrateful child,” Louisa said guiltily. “I’m so lucky to be here. Any chef would kill to be part of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s.”
“I don’t expect you to master everything at once.” Kate smiled. “But this job is important to Noah and he discovered you. If the network executives aren’t happy, he could get fired.”
“I would hate Noah to get in trouble, from now on I’ll stick to the script,” Louisa said. “The hairdresser can make my hair stand up like a soufflé and I’ll get those French nails that look so perfect they must be fake.” She looked at Kate. “I do have a question. How do you keep your panty hose from falling down?”
Kate glanced around to make sure no one heard her. “Reversible Scotch tape around the waist.”
Louisa laughed and signaled to the waiter. “I’ll have to try it.”
* * *
They shared a tomato omelet and talked about Claridge’s. The doorman could make a reservation at any restaurant in London and the concierge kept tickets to The Nutcracker at Covent Garden in his desk. Louisa stirred cream into her coffee and saw a man standing under the arch.
“This is a very appealing picture.” Noah approached the table. “Baccarat water glasses and Waterford china and a silver bread basket of raisin scones.”
“Would you like to join us?” Kate offered.
“I thought you’d never ask. My expense account only stretches to Starbucks coffee and a sticky bun.” He grinned and turned to Louisa. “I’m surprised to see you up this early. I was afraid I was going to have to instruct the maids to fill your bath with ice water.”
“I took your advice and didn’t let myself go to sleep until 10:00 p.m.,” Louisa said. “I slept like a baby and feel completely refreshed.”
“I’m glad. We have a busy schedule.” Noah consulted his clipboard. “After the interview with BBC One, you have a hair appointment at Taylor Taylor. I had to promise Daniel Galvin two tickets to Hamilton when he’s in New York, but he agreed to reschedule your makeup.” He paused. “In the afternoon we’ll film you at the Tate and finish at the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. You will sample bratwurst in the Bavarian village and sip coffee with schnapps in the après-ski chalet. Oh, and I spoke to the concierge and instructed them to send all postcards to Ellie and Chloe by overnight mail,” he said to Louisa. “Chloe should receive the first card tomorrow morning.”
“That’s wonderful.” Louisa beamed. “I appreciate it.”
“I changed the Winter Wonderland to this evening,” Kate cut in. “Digby Bunting called. He offered to show Louisa the Winter Wonderland. He thought it would make excellent footage: the top British and American pastry chefs seeing London from the Giant Observation Wheel and watching Christmas pantomimes.”
“Digby Bunting called?” Louisa was startled. “How odd! We hardly talked about my baking at all. And I’m not the top pastry chef in America, I’m a complete nobody.”
“Apparently Digby was quite taken with you,” Kate continued. “He was very excited about the feature. He’ll meet you in front of the Magical Ice Kingdom at 6:00 p.m.”
“We can’t change the schedule because Digby Bunting wants to visit an amusement park,” Noah cut in. “Viewers don’t want to watch Louisa tossing a ball to win a Christmas bear. They want to see her sampling spotted dick pudding.”
“We were going to film at Winter Wonderland this afternoon,” Louisa reminded Noah. “And you said we’re going to shoot all over London: in front of Big Ben and Westminster Palace and the British Museum.”
“It was going to be a brief segment.” Noah stabbed his pancake. “And those are London monuments, not a giant amusement park with couples holding hands and eating fairy floss.”
“I agree with Louisa, viewers want to see London at Christmas,” Kate said. “And we can’t turn down Digby Bunting. Our ratings will go through the roof. Every woman who watches the show while baking Christmas cookies will be glued to the television.”
“What if Digby wants his own camera crew or isn’t happy with our microphones?” Noah demanded. “Two celebrities on the same show is a recipe for disaster.”
“I’m not a celebrity, I’m just someone who made good cinnamon rolls,” Louisa said. “It’s very kind of him. I’d give anything to learn his secret for Lord Mayor’s Trifle. His recipe uses chocolate jelly and coconut sponge and vanilla custard, but mine always comes out too sweet.”
“You’re worrying about nothing, it’s a fabulous idea.” Kate ate the last bite of omelet. “Why don’t you and Louisa pick out some playful accessories to wear: a Burberry scarf or some sparkling earrings?” She stood up. “I have to send a few e-mails. I’ll meet you at the television studio.” She smiled at Louisa. “I have complete confidence in you. If you can impress Digby Bunting, you are going to be dazzling on television.”
Louisa was tempted to say she was coming down with the flu and have Kate take her place. Kate was poised and beautiful and knew everything about the show. But then she remembered Kate saying Noah’s job was on the line. She had to stop acting like a child and do everything they asked.
“I hope so.” She drained her coffee cup and gulped. “Because I feel like a complete imposter.”
* * *
Louisa stood in front of the David Hockney exhibit at the Tate Britain and tried to smile. But her toes were pinched in her new pumps and the cashmere dress was too warm and she had been smiling so long, her face froze.
Tears filled her eyes and she realized it was more than that. No matter what she did, Noah wasn’t happy. When she asked what was wrong, he just consulted his clipboard and hurried to the next location.
It started this morning at the BBC One morning show. After she got used to the bright lights and director talking into her earpiece, she actually enjoyed herself. The host, Maryanne, was lovely and they talked about the difference between British and American desserts. Louisa promised to send her a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting when she returned to New York.
Noah joined her in the green room after the show and criticized the way she had fiddled with her hair. Her forehead had been shiny and she kept crossing her legs.