Page 56 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
“Wow.”
The word was barely a whisper, but her mom settled a hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze as if she’d heard. “You told me he was a good man, Claire,” Lanelle said quietly. “I believe you.”
That was it, there was no holding back the tears. Claire turned her back to the room, grateful the napkin holder was at her elbow. Snatching several out, she proceeded to mop up her face as the segment moved to what should have been the focus all along: food.
“I’ve heard you have some examples here of what you intend to offer at Black Wolf Resort, correct?” the host asked.
“I do indeed.”
“Let’s see what you’ve prepared for us, shall we?”
Her back still to the room, Claire heard Lou Rutledge say, “Anyone else think that Rex guy looks like that weasel-looking character from the coffee shop show they rerun all the time?”
Lanelle eyed the town postmistress where she sat at a table in the middle of the café. Claire had seen her earlier, her hair a vibrant purple, her cat, Snookums, on his leash at her feet. She was certain the cat wasn’t supposed to be in the coffee shop, but at least he wasn’t sittingonthe table.
“Is she talking aboutFriends?” Claire’s mother whispered.
A watery chuckle escaped. “I think so.”
Lincoln was discussing the flavor profile of the crawfish pasta dish he’d made in her kitchen last week when Maria appeared at Claire’s elbow.
“Why did you call me in here?” Claire asked.
Maria shook her head. “Why do you think?” she asked as if Claire was a not too bright child.
“I don’t need to watch Lincoln talk about the resort.” And Maria knew that. She also knew Claire and Lincoln’s relationship was a bit strained at the moment.
“Bet you’re glad I did now, huh?” Maria pointed out.
Figuring the heat in her face wasn’t going anywhere soon, Claire turned around and settled against the bar resignedly.
“And what five-star meal would be complete without dessert? At Black Wolf Resort, dessert is a celebration in and of itself.” Lincoln gestured to a waiting tray of elegant dishes. Claire could see a traditional opera torte, a couple of beautifully decorated mini cakes, a plate with various tarts and mille-feuille, and even a profiterole tower circled in a sugary web.
All of which looked surprisingly familiar.
Her mother’s gasp drew Claire’s attention. “That red velvet cake was in your book, wasn’t it?” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the bakery. “I remember seeing it.”
Claire’s chest got tight. “It is.” But why was Lincoln—
“And we’re also going to be open for special occasions—weddings, birthdays, holiday parties.” Lincoln turned toward the side of the stage as several trays were wheeled in. “In fact, this classic wedding cake will be on offer, a traditional vanilla-bean sponge with layers of crème de cacao, praline liqueur, and Frangelico cream fillings.” The cake was a classic tower, three tiers, the layers decorated with intricately piped gold and silver filigree. At the top was an elegant bouquet of metallic-tinted flowers.
“Claire,” Iris Daniels, their town librarian, called across the room to her, “they’ve got my wedding cake on the TV.”
The cake Claire had designed. Right down to the unique flavor profile.
Another collective grumble started across the café.
“For parties we plan to feature the latest in dessert buffets,” Lincoln was saying. Claire spotted her individual crème brûlée cups from Saturday, several cupcake designs she’d worked on in the kitchen while Lincoln had been there, and her signature individual tarts, among others. The morning show’s audience gasped with delight as the host mentioned that Lincoln had brought enough to share with them after the segment.
“Claire, what the fuck?” Clayton’s handsome face was tinted red with anger where he was seated at a barstool across the way. “He’s taking credit for your designs. Your creations.”
“Yeah,” Brandon shouted from a booth nearby where he sat with his girlfriend.
“Really,” Patty said as she watched from the counter where she’d just picked up her order. “I never imagined he would do something like this to you.”
The edge in Patty’s voice was echoed through the room as more townspeople joined in. Claire attempted to calm them down, but just as they’d rallied around her yesterday, the people of Black Wolf’s Bluff were up in arms about the New Yorker who was stealing her credit for himself.
Onscreen, Rex eyed the array of dessert dishes laid before him. “I must say, Chef Young, you have outdone yourself with these designs.”
