“That’s right,” Liza went on. “Some of the things we’ll learn and bake and create over these next two months will be complicated, so you’ll each be assigned an assistant, a sous chef, to help. Trust this person with all your ideas and creativity; they’re here for you, to make your life easier.”
Regan glanced around the table, and each of the other attendees seemed both surprised and pleased, just as she was. Even Ava had a pleasant expression on her face.
“We have a busy first day ahead of us, so if you need something more substantial for breakfast, please let May know, and she’ll have the chefs whip something up for you. Eggs. Oatmeal. Pancakes. Whatever. Just say the word.” Liza looked at the sparkling gold watch on her slim wrist. “We’ll meet at the bottom of the staircase at ten o’clock, and I’ll take you to your workspaces.” With a laser sharp look toward Ava, she added, “Don’t be late. And wear your chef coats.”
Ava nodded and said nothing, but her cheeks each blossomed a circle of pink.
She was still stupidly pretty. Regan had thought so the second she’d walked into the dining room last night. Even harried and nervous and frazzled, she was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a smile that could light up a room because it didn’t happen often, so when it did, it seemed to have extra wattage. Those were other things Regan remembered about her. She wasn’t tall, she was average, maybe five foot five or six, but she commanded attention when she walked in, so she felt taller. People turned to look. Regan always wondered if Ava knew that, knew that she literally turned heads.
Stop it, her brain said, and she gave her head a little shake.Looks aren’t everything.She’d learned that a long time ago.
Back in the present, the six of them had some time, so they lingered.
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” Vienna said, “but I could use some protein to get me through what I think is gonna be a long and possibly stressful day.” She gestured to May and asked if the chef could maybe make her some scrambled eggs and bacon.
“Of course,” May said. “Anybody else?”
They all exchanged glances around the table before adding their orders. Eggs and bacon for Maia and Paige as well. Oatmeal for Madison. Yogurt and fruit for both Regan and Ava, who glanced at each other when they asked for the same thing. Ava gave her an uncertain smile. Regan looked away.
* * *
The combination of excitement and nerves was palpable. Ava had never quite understood that phrase until that very moment when May met the six of them, all dressed in white coats, at the stairs and led them down a long hall, past the kitchen, down some stairs, and out into a huge, sunlit room, floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides.
Murmurs of delight and awe tickled through the group as they took in the sight. Six workstations, three on either side, stood before them, pristine in their whiteness. At the front was a seventh workstation, and Ava could only assume that was where Liza would be. Several refrigerators in bright red lined the back wall, along with shelves that held various small appliances, spices, utensils, fruits and veggies. Name plaques affixed to the end of each counter indicated who would be working where.
“Feel free to check out your workspaces,” May said. “Chef Bennett-Schmidt will be here momentarily.”
The women wandered farther into the enormous room, each finding their place. On the left, Maia, Ava behind her, and Paige behind Ava. On the right, Vienna, Regan behind her, and Madison behind her. Regan’s workstation was directly across from Ava. Not close, but not far.
Ava pulled out drawers to see what kinds of tools she had to workwith. She opened the oven, checked the proofing drawer, and turned the red KitchenAid mixer on and off.
“Good morning, chefs.” Liza Bennett-Schmidt floated into the workspace, the way she seemed to get anywhere, as if she entered every room on a hoverboard. She stood in front of the head workspace and held her arms out from her sides. “Well? What do we think?”
A little rumble of murmurs went through the chefs, everybody smiling.
“I thought about having this all built in tent form outside, like they have onThe Great British Baking Show, but since we’re starting on the very edges of spring, I thought it would be better for everybody—as well as the pastries—to be in a temperature-controlled environment.” She seemed to give them a moment to absorb her words before she continued. “As I said last night, we’re going to be making some complicated creations, and therefore, I want you all to have an extra set of hands, the way you would in a high-end restaurant or bakery.” With that, she stood to the side and held one arm out like she was Vanna White presenting a grand prize. Six women in white chef’s coats filed in and took their places next to each workstation.
The woman who stopped next to Ava was about the same height as her with red hair and freckles. She smiled and held out a hand.
“Hi. I’m Becca. It’s great to meet you.”
“Ava.” They shook hands.
She glanced to her left to see Regan shaking hands with a tall and lean brunette.
Liza spoke again. “Take some time, get to know your assistants. And assistants, get to know your chefs. Understanding how they operate in the kitchen will be key to you helping or hurting them during projects. I will return in thirty minutes, and we will make our first dessert.”
Finally!
Ava was psyched. “I wonder what we’re gonna make first,” she said, not really to Becca, but since she was standing right there, okay. To Becca.
“Me too. I have no idea.” There was an awkward beat before Becca added, “So, where are you from? What do you do?” Then she snorted a laugh. “I mean, I know what you do, obviously, duh.” She blushed and it was super clear on her pale skin.
Ava pulled out drawers and took a more thorough look at the toolsprovided. “Well, I’m from Northwood, upstate, but I work in New York City at a restaurant called Pomp.”
“Oh! I’ve heard of Pomp!” Becca’s enthusiasm was actually kind of sweet. If Ava had to guess, she wasn’t a whole lot younger than Ava’s own thirty-five years, but her excitement made her seem more in her twenties. “Never been there but would love to go sometime.”
Ava didn’t add that if Becca got to go, she probably wouldn’t be the pastry chef there any longer. “So, how did you get here?”
