Page 81 of From Paris, with Butter
Maybe this is the day everything goes right.
Laurent’s sudden appearance had left me jittery, but I couldn’t think of him right now. I had work to do. I greeted the first guests, explained the pastry offerings and answered their questions. I was rearranging the mille feuilles when a wave of expensive perfume wafted over me.
I looked up to see Sabine a few meters away. She had her hair in waves andwas wearing a crimson dress that drew every eye to her. At her throat was a massive ruby necklace that probably cost more than my lifetime earnings.
Rubies look terrible with your skin tone,I told myself,So no need to be jealous of that. Turning my back to Sabine, I concentrated on plating the last of the mille feuilles. I had just finished when there was a thunderous crash behind me.
Whipping around, I saw Sabine, a delicate hand covering her mouth. At her feet was one of the dessert platters. And all around the floor were the remains of the hundreds of macarons I’d baked. Shattered to pieces.
“Oh no,” Sabine said. “I’msosorry. They looked so delicious that I had to try one, and then it just toppled.” She tucked a curl behind her ear.
I wanted to rage at Sabine, tell her that her acting skills were horrible, and that I’d made certain all the dessert platters were well away from the edge of the table, but all I could see was dozens of hours’ worth of baking scattered across the floor. Ruined.
I’d been so proud of how they had turned out. They were supposed to be the centerpiece of the dessert offerings. They were physical proof that my mother had been right to think I was talented and that I didn’t give up after setbacks. But now? They were just a mess on the floor that people were stepping around.
Someone arrived with a broom and began sweeping my creations into a dustbin. Fatima appeared at my side, assuring me everything would be fine, but she kept looking worriedly at the empty spot on the dessert table.
“Do you want me to get Yasmine?”
“No,” I said, my voice sounding strange. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Fatima said something else reassuring, although I couldn’t quite make out the words. Then she was gone, dragging along Sabine, who was still doing her best “horrified shock” expression. Her eyebrows were nearly climbing into her hairline.
There was a pause when no one went near my table, then a new couple walked over. I was still reeling from the macaron disaster, but I smiled as brightly as I could.
“Bienvenue. Are you interested in hearing about the desserts we have this evening?”
The couple looked at the printed menu, then at the table, obviously searchingfor the macarons that were the very first item listed.
After a few moments, they took two desserts each, so I guess the other options appealed to them enough. I wished them a pleasant evening, although I had to shout to be heard over the band. They were playing so loudly I wondered why Fatima or someone else didn’t tell them to turn the volume down. I could barely hear myself think.
I appeared to be in the minority, though. The dance floor was filling up quickly. The well-lubricated crowd swayed and spun in time to the music.
I had a headache building behind my eyes, and when I blinked to clear my vision, I realized the polite woman standing in front of me must have asked for something.
“I’m sorry, Madame. What would you like?”
“Which are the ma'amoul cookies?”
Slowly, I scanned the table. I was feeling lightheaded now too, and I tried to remember the last time I’d eaten. Actually, now that I thought of it, all I’d had today was the baklava croissant. The day had been too chaotic to sit down for an actual meal.
“Right here,” I said, lifting the tray they were on and trying to place it closer to the woman. I misjudged the distance and dropped it a little harder than I meant to. The woman flinched at the sound. My vision was slightly blurred, and I couldn’t see her expression, so I just smiled widely and hoped I still looked like I was holding things together. She took her cookie and walked away. The band’s music now felt like it was being pounded directly into my skull.
I should really find some water,I thought.And sit down for a bit.
Just as I was about to step out from behind the table, the guitarist played the opening chords of a new number.
My body reacted before I recognized the song. My vision went black. I realized I was gripping the table with both hands.
My chest heaved up and down. I wasn’t getting enough air.
I took a shuddering breath, sucking in all the air I could.
It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to suffocate.
I took a series of desperate breaths, trying to bring oxygen into my body, but it still wasn’t enough. I swayed on the spot, gasping now, trying to get any air atall. I could feel my body shutting down from asphyxiation. My ears were roaring, blotting out all other sound. My hands scrabbled helplessly at my throat. Losing my balance, I tumbled to the floor.
I’d broken into a sweat; I felt it as my hands slipped across my damp face. I was gasping so rapidly that I was close to vomiting, but still there was no air.
