Page 33 of Bookshop Cinderella

“All right,” she said, shoving her scarf into her skirt pocket. “Let me just finish examining these books.”

She suited the action to the word, then after instructing the workmen that these volumes had no dampness and could be packed in a crate and stacked with the others by the door, she led him to her office in the back.

“First,” he said, doffing his hat and tossing it on the table as they sat down, side by side, at her desk, “let me say that when Delia first told me you’d come up with a soup made of birds’ nests, I was skeptical.”

That made her laugh. “It does sound awfully unsanitary, I know.”

“Exactly, but once I’d read your notes—the swallows they use, and what the nests are made of, and how they dissolve into the broth, I became intrigued. And let me add that it would be a fitting dish to serve the Epicurean Club.”

“But?” she prompted when he paused.

“But when I discussed the prospect with Escoffier, I’m afraid he didn’t agree.”

She grimaced. “His chef’s palate was revolted, I suppose?”

“On the contrary. He loved the idea. Loved it so much, he already did it.”

She groaned, falling back in her chair. “Delia never told me that.”

“I daresay she didn’t know. The birds’ nest soup was several years ago, probably before she began working for the hotel.”

She considered. “Does a banquet like this require more than one soup?”

“Two is customary, but no. One would be all right. But if you’re thinking of the shark fins, he’s done that one, too.”

She sighed. “Oh, dear. And I thought I was being so innovative.”

“You were. I daresay most members of the Epicurean Club would never have heard of these offerings. Escoffier has made thousands of exotic dishes during his years at the Savoy, so the fact that he has already prepared a few of your suggestions isn’t surprising. However, some members of the Epicurean Club have already tasted these dishes, andEscoffier feels it would be a letdown if he served them again.”

“So, what happens now? Do you want me to find other dishes from China?”

“I suggested that. But while he liked the eels in rice wine and the panfried snake, some of the other dishes—pigeon eggs and goat sweetbreads, for instance—he’s prepared in other ways, so he wasn’t all that interested.”

“Hmm...” She fell silent, thinking. “Perhaps,” she said after a moment, “we ought to consider an entirely different theme.”

“Start again? That would entail a great deal of work, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t mind. It’s what Delia pays me for.”

He gave her a look of reproof. “Perhaps, but you are supposed to be on holiday, remember?”

“Let me pull out my notes for other ideas Delia and I have discussed in the past. Using ideas I’ve already researched would eliminate a large part of the work. Most of them were not implemented because the client didn’t like them, or because the party was called off, but there might be something that strikes your fancy.”

She rose and walked around his chair to a tall filing cabinet, opened it, and pulled out a fat manila folder. “The rejects,” she said lightly.

Sitting back down, she opened the folder and began flipping pages, reading aloud as she went. “German Oktoberfest, Fairyland, Arabian Nights—”

“Wait,” he interrupted, stopping her. “Arabian Nights? What a splendid idea.”

She looked up, eyeing him with doubt. “It wasn’t for a banquet. It was for a bachelor’s stag party.”

“Was it?” He laughed. “How fitting. Turkish pipes, scantily clad dancing girls flitting about...I’m sure the bachelor in question approved.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “I didn’t suggest smoking or dancing girls!”

“This presents you to me in a whole new light, I must say,” he murmured, ignoring her protest. “I never would have guessed you capable of conjuring such delightfully decadent ideas.”

The blush in her cheeks deepened and she ducked her head, but when he leaned down to look in her face, he saw her lips pressed together to hide a smile.

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