Page 12 of The Golden Spoon
“I still can’t believe I mistook salt for sugar. I swear I even tasted it before I poured it in. Oh well, I guess it’s just my time to go,” Peter says. He puts on a brave face, but it is easy to see that he is unsettled.
“An easy mistake to make. I’m surprised it wasn’t me, to be honest,” Pradyumna says from across the circle.
“It’s not hard if you look at the grain size,” says Gerald, ignoring Peter’s irritated glance. Gerald seems to be enjoying his wine as well. His bow tie is undone and hangs loosely around his collar. “Baking salt is generally finer than sugar.”
“Duly noted, Gerald! Now let’s all let the man celebrate his last night with us in peace,” says Lottie kindly.
Hannah is perched on a settee next to Lottie, holding her wineglass in her lap. She looks uncomfortable, and she’s hardly spoken all night. It must be hard being the youngest of all of us. I can see how worried she is about the way people view her; I know this feeling. We always glamorize youth as we get older, but at that age all youwant is to look grown-up, even if you don’t feel it—especially if you don’t feel it.
“So, are we all prepared for tomorrow?” Lottie asks, looking around the group and cringing as her gaze lands on Peter. “Sorry, Peter.”
“I’m fine.” He hams it up, tipping back his glass of wine, dramatically draining the dregs.
“What do you think the next bake will be?” I ask, the nervous feeling returning to my stomach. I’ve almost forgotten there is more, that it is going to start all over again every day until I am sent home. It suddenly feels exhausting.
“I hope it’s pies, or maybe tarts,” Hannah quips.
Pradyumna smirks and sloshes his scotch in his glass. “I love a good tart.”
I know it’s a dumb joke, but the wine is making me giggly, and suddenly I can’t stop laughing. I lock eyes with Pradyumna across the room. His face is crinkled up in amusement. God, he’s good-looking. Probably knows it too.No, you stay away from that one, Stella. You don’t need any more trouble in that department.
It’s hard to believe it has been only one day since we arrived. I already feel as though I know this group. Like we’ve been through something together.
“It’s nice to have a break from the real world, isn’t it?” Peter says, looking around at us, his eyes shining.
“Here, here.” Pradyumna holds out his glass again and takes a sip. Itisnice to get away. The week is going to fly by, I realize sadly.Bake Weekhas given me something to focus on. I worry what I’ll do once it’s over. I try to push away thoughts of going home, of the job I’ll have to find once this is over.Stay in the present, I tell myself.Pies and tarts.
“Well, I’m turning in.” Lottie stands up suddenly.
“She’s off to get a good night’s sleep, unlike the rest of us. That’s cheating, Lottie!” Pradyumna admonishes her playfully, shaking a fist at her as she goes.
“You all better watch out, I’m a terror in the kitchen when I’ve slept well,” Lottie teases back, picking up her empty glass from the table and heading for the hallway. I feel so affectionately toward her after how she helped me find my way yesterday. I can’t believe this woman nearly gave me a heart attack. I do wonder what she was doing up in that room. It seems like an odd coincidence for us to both wander into the same spot lost.
“Good night, Lottie,” I call after her. I can feel my lids getting heavy as well. The room grows quiet. I really should stop drinking now if I want to have a decent baking day tomorrow. The wine tastes so good, though, and I can feel its warmth traveling down my body. I’ll just finish the rest of this glass.
A log cracks loudly in the fireplace, and I jump. “God, that startled me.” I laugh at myself.
“It must be creepy living here all by yourself.” I turn to look at Hannah, surprised by the sound of her voice. She has collapsed to her side and is leaning on the arm of the settee. Her eyes look droopy with that heavy liner, and I worry suddenly that we’ve all encouraged her to drink too much. That’s silly, though. As young as she is, she’s not a child. I’m sure she’s spent plenty of nights out with her friends, and she doesn’t need a bunch of older people to tell her what her limits are.
“Betsy isn’t technically alone,” Gerald chimes in with that paternal voice again. “There are five staff members who live on the premises.”
Annoyance flashes across Hannah’s face. “But I mean, they’re not, technically, herfriends.” She looks around the library. “And don’t they leave at night? It’s not like there’s anyone to watch a movie with, and this house is just so big.” The fire is growing low, but no one makes a move to add any wood to it. It’s getting late, I realize. We should all go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be another big day.
“I tell you, I won’t be sad to leave behind all the weird noises,” Hannah says suddenly, interrupting my thoughts.
Pradyumna perks up. “Oh yeah? What noises?”
“I swear I could hear someone walking around above me last night.” She talks in a loud whisper, like she’s afraid the house will hear her. “But when I asked Melanie about it in the morning, she said no one was staying on the fourth floor.”
“I was wondering about the fourth floor,” Pradyumna says. His face is in shadow, but his glass of scotch catches the light, glowing a rich amber as though lit from within. “Has anyone seen a staircase that goes up there?”
“Well, there must be one,” I say dismissively. I haven’t explored the house much on my own after getting lost, preferring to stick to my known routes through the house to the dining room and kitchen. “Maybe it’s hidden.”
“Traditionally the top floors are servants’ quarters,” Peter says. “The stairs are usually at the end of the halls, rather than connected to the main staircase. You know, tucked away so that the help didn’t have to be seen.”
“So gross,” I interject, rolling my eyes.
“Victorians.” Peter shrugs.
