FOURTEEN HOURS LATER LOUISA SANK onto a red velvet sofa in her suite at Claridge’s and let out a small sigh. She felt like a puppy that had played with a ball and now was happy to curl up with a favorite blanket. If she never left her suite and explored London at all, she’d be perfectly happy.
The suite’s living room had crown moldings and white pillars and art deco mirrors. The walls were painted yellow and the parquet floor was scattered with geometric rugs. Scarlet armchairs were arranged around a glass coffee table and a crystal vase held the tallest flowers she had ever seen. The valet said the arrangement was replaced daily by McQueens, one of the most famous florists in London with a shop inside Claridge’s.
And the bathroom! Louisa pictured her bathroom in New York with the sink jammed against the shower and the fire escape outside the window. The suite’s bathroom was like entering Atlantis. The floor was heated white marble and the walls were painted ivory and everywhere you turned there were mirrors. The ceiling was mirrored and the side of the bathtub was mirrored and the walk-in closet had so many mirrors she felt dizzy.
When the front desk manager handed her the gold key for the Mayfair Suite, Louisa said there must be a mistake. Noah couldn’t possibly have reserved a one-bedroom suite with a baby grand piano and furnishings designed by David Linley. She didn’t need a balcony with a view of Brooks Mews, and a sideboard set with raisin scones and Marco Polo jelly.
The canopied king-sized bed in the master bedroom was so large, sleeping in it would be like being stranded in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. And the ivory quilted bedspread made her nervous. What if she got face cream on it and it never came out?
But the manager explained the suite was reserved for Bianca and it was the only available room. It was completely paid for: she could eat anything from the minibar and every morning there was a complimentary room service breakfast of pink grapefruit juice and brown eggs scrambled or poached, with grilled tomatoes.
Noah had dropped her off at Claridge’s entrance to run an errand and Kate stayed at the airport to locate a missing suitcase, so Louisa had no one to ask. Finally she gave up and followed the valet to the elevator.
She was so tired she could spend the whole morning soaking in the bathtub. Maybe in the afternoon she’d venture down to the lobby. She read all about the Map Room with its red-lacquered walls and burgundy carpet and curated library of books.
And she couldn’t wait to poke her head in the Foyer with its creamy beige décor and plates of smoked salmon sandwiches and Cornish lobster salad. Noah said it was the perfect place for celebrity watching and it would be fun to bump into Nigella Lawson or David Beckham.
But she hadn’t slept on the plane and she felt as if there was an orchestra playing inside her head. Noah and Kate had boarded the plane and pulled out eye masks. They wrapped themselves in cashmere blankets, downed two glasses of champagne, and fell asleep.
Louisa had never been in the business-class section of an airplane. She hadn’t wanted to miss the movies showing on her personal iPad or the assortment of expensive lotions handed out by the flight attendants.
Now she walked to the marble sideboard in the suite and filled a brandy snifter with golden liqueur. There was a knock at the door and she answered it.
“Do you mind if I come in?” Noah asked. “I was afraid I missed you and you were already sightseeing.” He glanced at the glass in Louisa’s hand. “Isn’t it a little early for a drink?”
“I wasn’t going to drink it. I’m going to inhale it.” She held it to her nose. “It’s the perfect cure when you haven’t slept. The brandy wakes your senses and makes you feel warm and alive.”
“I did say you should sleep on the flight.” Noah entered the living room. “It’s important to adjust to local time. Eat a good lunch and drink lots of coffee. If you stay awake until 10:00 p.m., you’ll be fine.”
“I’m not the least bit hungry and the thought of coffee makes my stomach turn,” she groaned. “I’m going to run a bath and take a long nap. Then I have to finish my recipe card for Ellie’s daughter, Chloe. Chloe and I usually bake a different kids’ Christmas dessert every day of the week before Christmas. She comes in after school in the middle of my shift. I’m not there, so I thought I’d send her one recipe card every day. It will be a bit like the Twelve Days of Christmas but instead of partridges in pear trees and drummers drumming there will be mini elf donuts and Christmas tree pops.” She picked up the embossed Harrods stationery. “I’m starting with Rudolph’s Shortbread. The shortbread is simple to make and you add M&M’s for the reindeer’s eyes and pipe cleaners for antlers.” She beamed. “The cards won’t arrive until after Christmas, but I told her she could save them and we’d bake them together. It will be so much fun.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” Noah suggested. “Give the card to the concierge each day and I’ll make sure it is overnighted to Chloe. But I’m afraid you’ll have to finish the card later. I have today’s entire itinerary.” He examined his clipboard. “At twelve thirty we’ll meet your personal shopper at Harrods. We shoot B-roll around London all week: you shopping for ingredients at Selfridges and posing with the wax figure of Julia Child at Madame Tussauds.
“You’ll need a selection of cashmere dresses and shoes. We should stay away from beiges, and we need to make you a bit taller, so we should find pumps with a heel.
“You have a three o’clock makeup session with Daniel Galvin. It’s just preliminary, we don’t know what will work until you’re in front of the camera. But he can shape your eyebrows and see if we can get your cheekbones to look a little narrower.
“Lastly, we’ll select a few pieces of jewelry at Asprey. They’re only on loan, of course. It is Christmas at Claridge’s; you have to look glamorous. A classic Asprey watch, the camera zooms in on it when you’re mixing a bourbon sauce.” He put down the clipboard and grinned. “That should bring us to the evening when there will be cocktails with the other chefs in the Fumoir.”
“I’m not going to do any of those things! I never wear jewelry when I bake. What if I get molasses on a bracelet or an earring falls into a chocolate mousse? And if I’m going to be traipsing around London, it’s going to be in comfortable boots, not pumps with a heel.” She stopped and her eyes watered. “And I’m so tired, I couldn’t possibly try on dresses. Can’t I do all that tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow morning you have an interview with BBC One, followed by hair and highlights at Taylor Taylor.” He looked back at the clipboard. “I wanted to get the hair done first, but we’re lucky they squeezed you in. This is the most important culinary event of the season and you’re one of the star chefs. Do you really think you get to lie around in a Claridge’s robe and slippers?”
“I just wanted one day.” Louisa dragged herself off the sofa. “I didn’t realize how tired I was until I sat down. I feel like there’s a bus sitting on my chest. And I don’t want to disappoint Chloe and not send the recipes. It’s bad enough that I left the week before Christmas.”
“As long as you finish the card by this evening, I promise it will be overnighted in tomorrow’s mail. Speaking of buses, I want to get some B-roll of you riding a red double-decker bus,” he said and smiled. “We’ll find one on the way to Harrods.”
* * *
Noah waited while Louisa showered and slipped on a sweater and pair of slacks. She forced herself to eat a cucumber sandwich and gulped a cup of Earl Grey tea. They took the elevator to the lobby and suddenly Louisa felt silly for wanting to stay in her suite.
She had been so exhausted when she arrived she hadn’t appreciated the black-and-cream-diamond marble floors and beveled mirrors. Glass vases were filled with white roses and an original Gainsborough hung over a stone fireplace. And the Christmas tree! It reached the ceiling and was made out of gold and silver metallic umbrellas.
“It’s magnificent! Look at the way the light from the chandelier reflects off the umbrellas.” She tilted her head. “It seems like it’s actually raining.”
“It’s a promotion with Burberry,” Noah explained. “Every year Claridge’s partners with a fashion brand to create the most extravagant Christmas tree. They used one hundred umbrellas and it took three days to install.”
Women crossed the lobby swathed in cashmere and carrying Harvey Nichols bags and Louisa felt a building excitement. She reached forward and kissed Noah on the cheek.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“I’m sorry I complained, I want to thank you for bringing me to London,” she said. “I’ll be the best chef Claridge’s ever had, and I’ll do everything you ask.”
“Let’s start by getting out of here.” He guided her to the revolving glass doors. “If we miss your appointment with the private shopper, you’ll be appearing on television in a sweater and moccasins.”
They passed the snowy expanse of Hyde Park and chic galleries on Bond Street. Piccadilly loomed in the distance and taxis were plastered with advertisements for Cadbury chocolates.
The bus stopped on the corner of Brampton Road and Louisa caught her breath. Across from her was a five-story building with stone turrets. It reminded her of a chocolate marzipan cake with HARRODS scrawled in gold frosting. She looked more closely at the store windows and had never seen anything so unusual.
Reindeer were dressed in knitted sweaters and red booties. Instead of pulling a wooden sleigh, they were attached to bright-red sports cars. There was a Lamborghini brimming with presents and an Aston Martin adorned with a gold bow. Fake snow dusted the tires and silver ornaments dangled from the bumpers.
“I thought I was jet-lagged and seeing things,” Louisa laughed when they crossed the street. “How did they get the cars into the store, and whoever would have imagined a reindeer pulling a sports car?”
“No department store in the world celebrates Christmas like Harrods.” Noah glanced at his watch. “Can we admire the windows later? We have to get to the fourth floor.”
“I have to send Ellie a picture.” Louisa handed Noah her phone and stood in front of the display. “Her daughter, Chloe, is seven. She’ll think I landed in some incredible version of Santa’s workshop.”
“You’re not wearing makeup and you haven’t done your hair.” He hesitated. “Why don’t we take photos later?”
“I don’t care what I look like. I’m at Harrods at Christmas!” She waved at the window. “Just take the picture.”
Noah snapped the photo and they entered double brass doors. The throng of shoppers was so thick, Louisa could barely see the counters. Men in overcoats carried giant shopping bags and women wearing knee-high boots examined lipsticks and perfumes.
“Look over there.” Noah took her arm.
Louisa pulled her eyes from a display of Christmas crackers and followed him to the middle of the store. The Christmas tree was five stories tall and seemed as wide as an ocean liner. Every branch was decorated with ornaments: teddy bears hanging from gold ribbons, and snow globes and toy trains. There were painted reindeer and a red telephone box.
“That looks like Cinderella’s slipper.” She pointed to a slipper on a lower branch. She peered closer and gasped. “It can’t be made of real diamonds!”
“It is made of diamonds. And there are ruby angels and stockings made of emeralds and sapphires. You can see every ornament after we choose your wardrobe.” He steered her toward the escalator. “It’s going to take us ages to get upstairs. The escalator is more crowded than the subway at rush hour.”
They reached the fourth floor and entered a lounge with plush carpet and high-backed velvet chairs. There was a plate of scones and glasses of apple cider.
Louisa sank onto a chair and pushed a stray hair from her forehead. She looked at Noah and her eyes sparkled.
“You promise not to wake me?” she asked.
“What do you mean ‘wake you’?” His cheeks paled. “You can’t fall asleep now!”
“I mean don’t wake me from this whole dream,” she laughed. “A suite at Claridge’s and the whole afternoon at Harrods. Any minute I’ll wake up in my apartment with the radiator spitting water and cracks in the ceiling.”
“You’re not dreaming,” Noah said and Louisa noticed his eyes were bluer than she remembered. He was about to say something when a woman in a navy suit appeared.
“It’s a pleasure to have you join us.” The woman nodded. “Where would you like to begin? Some gorgeous Herve Leger dresses just came in, and we have a fabulous selection of Balmain blazers.”
Louisa followed the woman and her shoulders tightened. Cashmere sweaters were piled to the ceiling and there were racks of wool slacks and silk blouses. Mannequins wore satin evening gowns and glass cases were filled with patterned scarves.
Suddenly she wished she was sitting in the bathtub or curled up on the sofa writing Chloe’s recipe card. The last thing she wanted to do was stand in front of a mirror and fiddle with zippers and buttons. But Noah trailed after them like an overprotective parent and she didn’t have a choice.
“That dress looks nice.” She waved at a kelly-green knit dress. “I guess we can start with that.”
The woman led her to a dressing room and handed her Burberry sweaters and Alexander McQueen dresses. There was a sequined sheath that was so sheer, Louisa was embarrassed to look at her reflection. She slipped on a magenta evening gown and a coatdress made of Shetland wool. Finally the saleswoman carried away her selections and Louisa joined Noah.
“Most women would give anything to be handed St. John dresses without worrying about the price tag.” He looked up from his clipboard. “You look like you had a tooth filled at the dentist.”
“I wore a gorgeous dress to my cousin’s wedding and it’s important to dress up for birthdays and Christmas.” She shrugged. “But I’m happiest when I’m baking. You can’t wear a pretty blouse when you’re making crust for a peach tart. It will end up covered in peach juice.”
“Is baking the only thing you care about?” he asked curiously.
“I love romantic movies. And I adore animals, though I’ll never have a pet in Manhattan.” She paused. “But there isn’t time to be passionate about more than one thing. If you want something in life, you have to sacrifice everything else to get it.” She looked at Noah. “Aren’t you passionate about something?”
“I’m passionate about the law, I guess,” he answered. “It’s fascinating to read hundred-year-old cases that affect our laws today. When I’m in the midst of a case study, I don’t think of anything else.”
“You see, we’re the same,” she mused. “We’re both happiest when we’re doing what is important to us.”
“What about love?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?” she wondered.
“Most people our age want to get married and have babies.”
“I haven’t thought about it,” she said slowly. “I don’t have time to fall in love.”
“But if you did?” he prompted.
“I don’t know,” she replied and suddenly the room felt a little warm. “Right now, I’m too tired to think about anything except going back to Claridge’s and taking a bath and finishing my recipe card.”
“You can’t show up for cocktails at the Fumoir in moccasins.” He glanced at her feet. “First we’ll tackle Harrods’s shoe department. Then you can take a bath.”
They rode the escalator to the second floor and entered the shoe department. Noah pulled out silver stilettos and satin pumps and ankle boots made of the softest suede. There were ballet slippers with diamond bows and a pair of red Louboutin pumps with a jeweled sole.
“You want me to try on all these?” she asked dismally. “Can’t you choose? I’ll close my eyes and you can pick whatever you like.”
“You can’t stand on the set with pinched toes. And if you don’t practice walking in high heels, you’ll fall on your face,” he insisted. “Shoes are very personal. You have to try them on.”
“If they’re so personal why can’t I wear the ones I have?” she grumbled. “No one will see them on television and the chefs at the cocktail party won’t notice. We’ll all be busy discussing the Christmas Dinner menu.”
He took a pair of Gucci pumps out of the box and handed them to Louisa. “Don’t you ever worry about what you wear?”