“Lofty.” She observed for a few more seconds, then moved on, and the look of absolute panic on Ava’s face when she turned to Regan almost made her burst out laughing.
“Listen.” Regan moved close to Ava and spoke just above awhisper. “I’ve seen you work. You’re a badass. And you’re not a woman to be trifled with or intimidated. Right?”
Ava grimaced.
“Right?” Regan asked again, and this time, Ava nodded. “Good. So, put on your game face and make the best damn lemon buttercream anybody’s ever tasted. I have faith in you.”
Their eyes met and held, and then Ava nodded. “Okay” was all she said, but the set of her body and the determination that suddenly appeared on her face told Regan she’d heard her.
Regan squeezed her arm. “You got this.”
She went back to her lemons.
* * *
Lemon buttercream was tricky, and there was a big—very big—part of Ava that wished they’d chosen something much simpler and way less risky. If she couldn’t get the balance of liquids just right, if she added too much confectioners’ sugar, if it curdled, that was it. Their cake would be ruined.
Ava was not a woman who was easily intimidated. Regan had been 150 percent correct about that. She’d been doing this work for years now. She ran her own part of the kitchen. She was the head pastry chef at a five-star restaurant. Nobody could make her feel like she didn’t know what she was doing. Nobody.
Except, apparently, Liza Bennett-Schmidt.
Ava wasn’t sure what it was about her, but the second she got close, Ava felt like she was back in culinary school again and Chef Boccatini was criticizing every single thing she did, trying to break her down before he built her back up again. Her nerves jangled. Her hands shook ever so slightly. She felt a bead of sweat roll down between her breasts.
It was infuriating.
Liza had made the rounds, but because there were only three teams, she was back again pretty quickly, watching Ava work. “If your frosting comes out, this could be an amazing cake.”
Yeah, no shit, Ava wanted to say, but simply smiled and nodded and continued to measure.
“Careful it doesn’t curdle.”
Ava clenched her jaw, and part of her was worried she might crack a tooth, but then Liza moved on to the next team, and she blew out a breath.
“You okay?” Regan asked very quietly, her eyes on Liza as she talked in low tones to Vienna and Maia.
“Yeah, that wasn’t nerve-racking at all,” Ava replied, but the relief at not being scrutinized while she worked was big, and she felt her shoulders descend from her ears. She heard Liza in front of them tell Vienna if she over-whipped her cream, she’d ruin the whole project. Vienna looked ill. “Is she trying to jinx us all? ‘Careful it doesn’t curdle.’” She said the last line in a whisper but made a snarling face along with it.
Regan snorted a quiet laugh. “You got this,” she said for the second time. And for whatever reason, that totally clichéd line made Ava feel the tiniest bit better. “Here’s the zest, and here’s the lemon juice.” Regan set two ramekins down near her.
“Excellent. Thanks.” She worked carefully. She wanted creamy and tangy and just a little bit of sweet. Too much and the frosting would be cloying, taking away from the flavor of the cake itself.
“I think sticking with heavy cream and not using lemon extract were good calls,” Regan commented. “It’s gonna taste so much better.”
Ava nodded, pleased at the comment. “Agreed. I’ve made it with extract, which is fine, but fresh lemon juice is so much better. I’ve also skipped the cream, but it curdled on me. Won’t do that again.”
She felt Regan nod more than saw it, and again, she appreciated the agreement. She increased the speed on the stand mixer, then set a timer on her phone for three minutes. Three minutes that seemed to take an hour. The two of them stood there, silently watching the paddle spin around, the frosting become smooth, and when the timer sounded, Ava turned off the mixer and looked at Regan.
“Moment of truth.”
Regan nodded once.
Ava dipped her spoon in and tasted. She dipped a second spoon and gave it to Regan, then she watched as Regan tasted, rolled the frosting around on her tongue.
“God, you’re so right about the fresh lemon juice and zest. Wow. It’s got that fresh, bright flavor without being sour or too tangy.” Sheseemed to be tasting further, then said, “How do you feel about adding just a touch more confectioners’ sugar? Like, a tablespoon or two?”
Ava nodded, and she couldn’t help but grin. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.” She turned the mixer back on and added one tablespoon of sugar. They did the taste test again before adding one more.
“Perfect,” Regan pronounced, just as the timer went off for her cakes.
