Once their daily love fest was finished, she set him down and fed him. She really wanted pasta, but her level of fatigue was high, and even making something that simple felt like too much. Instead, she whipped up some eggs, tossed some shredded cheese on them, and called it dinner. She made herself comfortable on her bed with her plate and her cat and the day’s mail, doing her best not to think of Regan and failing spectacularly.
She wolfed her eggs down in mere minutes, not having realized just how hungry she was, and set the plate aside in favor of the mail. Energy levels in the red zone, she promised herself she’d take a quick scan to make sure nothing was pressing and deal with the rest in the morning.
It was envelope number three, which was certified, that changed everything.
Chapter Nineteen
To my amazing retreat attendees,
By now, I trust you are all home and back to somewhat regularly scheduled programming. I am so glad you all chose to attend my retreat, and I hope you learned something, took something away, and feel it was time well spent.
I have a few things to say…and a few things to confess.
First of all, each of you has my undying gratitude for attending. I’ve been in this business for a very, very long time, and to know there are other chefs out there who still look up to me and feel they can learn from me is a boost I need every now and again. So I thank you.
Second, I believe that baking under pressure is a skill that not enough bakers and pastry chefs excel at, so it’s one of the things I try to push at my retreat. But I don’t always tell my chefs. I just…fiddle with the circumstances. And I use the assistant chefs to help. I did that with most of you at some point or another, and you excelled. In fact, yours was the most levelheaded group I’ve had in years, so bravo! And now this is where I come clean.
Vienna, I was extra hard on you because as a woman of color in a male-dominated industry, you face even more obstacles than most. You handled everything I threw at you with grace, and you never lost your cool in the kitchen. Impressive. Very, very impressive.
Maia, I had your assistant chef take your lucky bandannas and then return them a week later. I know youwere stressed, but you baked just as well, if not better, without what you consider your lucky talisman! You relied on your skills, not luck, and you succeeded, despite the stress you felt. Well done.
Paige, your assistant chef let me know that pie crust was your weak link in baking, and that’s why I had you making pie so often. But you got it! By the end of the retreat, your crust could seriously rival mine. So, see? The pressure of it paid off.
Madison, you were such a delight, so kind, cheerful, and encouraging to your fellow chefs that I couldn’t bear to mess with you (not that I didn’t think about it!). Please don’t ever change.
Regan and Ava, I owe you two the biggest kudos. In all the years I’ve run this retreat, I’ve never had two attendees fall for each other. That was a first! The pressure of keeping that separate from what we were doing and learning must’ve been a lot, and I apologize for abusing my power and outing you to the others. That was petty of me, but I can get a bit carried away in a retreat. May tells me all the time that I play mind games, and maybe she’s right. I certainly did when I had Becca steal Regan’s July Fourth idea and pass it off as her own so Ava would make the same thing. I wanted to see the sparks fly, see how you each handled such a thing. I honestly didn’t think it would drive a wedge between you as large as the one it did, though. I guess that means what you had was, sadly, just a temporary fling. But still, I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in. I apologize for that. (And not that you asked, but I thought you two were great together.)
All right. Now for the reason I sent this letter in the first place: the money. My financial advisor says I can do this, even though my CPA is losing his mind, but I don’t care. What good is having money if you can’t spend it the way you want? Therefore, I am increasing my total donation (that’s what I’ve been told we’re to call it) to $200,000, and I’m giving some to all of you. Vienna, Madison, Paige, and Maia, you will each receive $25,000. Thank you for your participation,dedication, and success. Regan and Ava, I really messed with your heads, and I feel guilty about that, so I’m giving each of you $50,000. Again, I apologize. You really were great together.
Checks will arrive in the next week under separate cover.
Again, thank you all for participating.
Love and baked goods,
Liza Bennett-Schmidt
PS: Please remember that you each signed a nondisclosure agreement, so don’t go sharing these details…
Regan blinked at the paper in her hand. She was seated on her couch in the living room, Artie stretched across the back of it, one paw on her shoulder, as if he wanted to make sure she stayed there. She blinked some more. Read it again. And again. Each time she finished, she’d whisper “Holy shit” and read it again. The paper trembled in her hand.
Her phone started to ping, and it continued to do so until she picked it up to see texts from the other retreat attendees, various versions of their own “Holy shit.” Liza must’ve mailed the letters so they all arrived on the same day. She remembered Paige and Madison were on the West Coast, so she wasn’t sure they’d be texting, but Vienna and Maia were.
What the actual fuck?were Vienna’s first words. Followed quickly byI’ma make a group text.And then all their texts started to show up in the same place.
I don’t understand.Maia.We all get money?
Seems that way, Regan typed.It also seems like whoever said Liza was a sadist was right.
Ava did, typed Vienna.
It was definitely Ava, said a text from Madison.Hi, guys! I miss you all!
Along came Paige.Yup. Ava. Also, OMG, what the heck?
Regan grinned at her tame language, especially compared to the rest of them.
I said she was a sadist.A text from Ava, finally.
