Ganache with Panache: Book 2 in The Chocolate Cafe Series (4 page)

“Well, we would like you to make
our
event a priority as well. You’ll be well paid.”

“Money isn’t a problem.” Mac’s voice was cold. There was nothing she hated more than the rich flaunting their wealth. She could fill every swimming pool in this pretentious town with hundred-dollar bills and still have enough to buy everything that the Hoods owned.

“Of course not. What I’m saying is that you and your
little
friend, what
was
her name? I don’t remember. Anyway,
Catharine
, you’ll be paid very well and you’ll gain a reputation as the best the
local
wedding industry has to offer. Zachary
Lau
will be designing Harper’s gown. Did you know
that
?” Olivia sounded triumphant, as if she had accomplished something astounding simply by paying someone to provide a service.

Mac smiled wryly.

“Strangely enough, I believe he’s going to be designing Ms. Moore’s gown as well.”

There was a pause. Mac looked at Louis who looked back quizzically. At the moment he looked nothing like a celebrated detective, more like a boy bored by grownups’ gossip. Mac waited as Ms. Hood took more long swigs from her drink.

When she spoke again, her voice was much harsher than previously. The charming society lilt was gone; in its place was an ugly and threatening tone.

“In any case. Your friend has already agreed. She’s the one that gave me your number. She’s on her way up to the house right now. She seems to be the one with social skills, so your being here is just a formality.”

Mac’s face began to burn again; but this time rage, not puppy love, ignited it. Olivia Hood was pushing her, that was certain, and Catharine Mackenzie didn’t like being pushed.

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

She jabbed the phone, trying to achieve the best ‘slamming’ effect she could. She turned to the completely baffled Louis, still on the steps beside her. He had never seen Mac being imperious, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“What in the world is Brie thinking?”

The Hood mansion was notorious for two reasons. The first reason, and the one cited most by the older citizens of Mackenzie Bay, was the fact that a perfectly good historic home had been destroyed in order to build it. The people of the Bay took their heritage seriously and there had been more than one furious town meeting on the topic. The second reason was the most immediately obvious and never failed to amaze Mac, even now as she stood in the driveway. The place was unbelievably badly decorated.

From the marble columns to the gold-plated door handles, it was hands down the biggest display of too much money and too little taste in the town. Mac couldn’t help but shake her head in awe as she passed the oversized fountain in the center of the circular drive. Nearly as big as the trees behind the gate, the fountain was a meticulously carved recreation of Napoleon on his battle horse. Could anything be more out of place? As she moved closer to the house, the twenty reproductions of Michelangelo’s
David
answered her question.

If that was the kind of decoration on the outside of the house, what lay within? An involuntary shiver passed through Mac, as if someone had walked on the grave of her good taste.

She was about to grasp the large, yellow gold door knocker when it opened suddenly. Rather than the Hood’s butler, Mac was surprised to see Sabrina. Her face was pale and her eyes wide…with what? Shock? She immediately grabbed Mac and pulled her into the foyer, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Brie, what…” Mac began.

“I am so, so sorry.” Brie hissed. If there had been shadows in the house, Brie would have dragged her somewhere darker. Of course, the enormous crystal chandelier eliminated any shadows that might consider intruding. The foyer was almost blindingly bright from the millions of bulbs overhead reflecting the white marble that seemingly covered every surface. Mac looked up, amazed. She could hear the sound of a man and a woman shouting at each other from upstairs. Their voices swept down the double staircase.

For a second, Mac forgot she was so angry with Brie.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Mac shook Brie by the shoulders slightly as she spoke.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. Olivia called and she was - okay. Frankly, she was a little intimidating but she offered so much money…”

“We don’t need the money, Sabrina,” Mac snapped.

Mac felt bad as soon as she spoke. Unlike Mac, Brie had grown up far, far away from these types of people and this indulgent lifestyle. She had been raised by her father in a state of almost constant financial crisis. He had moved them from one local motel room to another, taking whatever jobs he could hold down when he wasn’t drinking. She had been trained to take any money as soon as it was offered. Normally, it wasn’t a problem for Mac that Brie went after money as a survival instinct. But Mac had never anticipated Olivia and Harper Hood.

Sabrina looked at the floor and for a second was the same little girl that had snuck into Mac’s bedroom most nights, escaping from the hunger, the dirt, and the smell on her father’s breath.

“It’s okay. What’s another job? We can make it work, right?” Gently, Mac took Brie into her arms and kissed the top of her head. Not surprisingly, her hair smelled like chocolate.

The noise of the argument escalated, the woman’s voice rising to a near shriek.

“What is going on up there?” Mac said.

“Zach Lau is up there with the Hood witches. It’s a nightmare. As soon as I walked in, I knew I made a mistake. Oh my heavens, what are you wearing?”

Brie stepped back to take in the entirety of Mac’s ill-chosen outfit. Mac blushed once again. She had been in such a rush to figure the Hood fiasco out that she hadn’t bothered to go home. Louis had even offered to drop her off at her house before he drove her up, but she had refused.

Standing in the Hoods’ over-the-top Disney palace, Mac was starting to regret that decision.

“I’m wearing the worst possible outfit for this,” Mac moaned. “Oh, well. I guess we should head up there.”

When the girls walked into the room, neither Harper Hood, her mother, nor Zachary noticed. The trio was far too involved in what was obviously the argument of the century. Harper was standing on a makeshift platform in front of the large floor-to-ceiling mirror that lined a ballroom. Her hands on her hips, her perfectly tanned but dangerously bony arms jutted out on either side. She was literally staring down her tiny resculpted nose at Zachary who stood, equally defensive, at her feet.

Mac and Brie waded slowly through yards of different white fabrics, doing their combined best to stay out of the line of fire.

“If Harper wants to show a
little
skin on her wedding day, you will
make
her a dress that shows a
little
skin.” Next to the window, Olivia puffed on a cigarette, her nose angled just as high as her daughter’s. “I don’t care how many royal weddings
you’ve
done, Harper gets what she wants.”

Zachary ran his hands over his shaved head in frustration. He made eye contact with the girls as they approached and rolled his eyes.

“Thank heaven. Voices of reason,” he said.

“I am not being unreasonable. You are the one being unreasonable!” Harper spat. She looked over her angular shoulder at the girls as they approached. She practically sneered at Mac, who smiled back at her in the most annoyingly charming way she could muster. Despite not having seen Harper in years, she realized that the old impulse to yank out Harper’s extensions hadn’t faded in time.

“The chocolate girls are back,” she hissed to her mother.

Glad of the distraction, Zach immediately walked through the satins and tulles to shake Mac’s hand. He was younger than she had expected and had the kind of glowing skin and perfectly toned body that most people in the fashion industry worship. His hand was warm and his shake firm.

“Zachary Lau,” he said. “You must be Catharine.” His eyes darted over her outfit but not in the searing, critical way the Hood women had done when she walked in. To Mac, Zach’s assessment seemed to be a professional habit, strangely devoid of any judgment.

“I am.” Mac said. “One of the chocolate ladies, apparently.” Zach, still holding her hand, leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Welcome to hell.”

Harper had torn herself away from her reflection long enough to turn and face them. The dress she was wearing truly was amazing, or at least the beginning of the dress was. The skirt and train pooled behind her, the heavy duchess satin rose up to an intricately corseted waist. The bodice, however, appeared to be the center of the disagreement.

“You two,” Harper hissed. “I’m desperate, so I’ll take your opinions if I must. I want the neckline open, like this…” She arranged the two pieces of satin at her amplified bosom and arranged them so that the silicone monsters were barely contained. They bulged forth in a truly inappropriate way.

Zach groaned and rubbed his head again. Apparently it was a nervous gesture.

“Wow.” Brie said, more than a trace of horror in her voice.

“It looks like a couple of beach balls on your chest.” For the third time that day Mac spoke without thinking and immediately regretted it.

“Pardon me?” Olivia sneered from her little smoking corner. “Do you have any idea how much they cost? She should show them off.
People
magazine will be here. Those—” she pointed one bony finger to her daughter’s over-inflated chest. “Those are what will get her on the cover.”

“Okay,” Zachary said, raising his hands in defeat. “We can show cleavage, cleavage can be classy. But opening the neckline to the waist? If you want to look like a Vegas cocktail waitress, I can give you a number. But you hired me, right?”

Olivia was suddenly furious and she practically launched herself across the room toward them. She tossed her still-burning cigarette onto a yard of incredibly costly lace.

“I am starting to wonder,” she began, positioning herself inches from his face, “why I hired you at all.”

“Because he did Duchess Emilie’s dress and I
wanted
him.” Harper pouted. She had turned back to the mirror and continued to adjust the fabric to showcase her mother’s investments.

Olivia cooed to her daughter without turning away from poor Zach “I know, honey and you’ll get
exactly
what you want.”

Zachary, although obviously uncomfortable with the distance between himself and the monstrous woman in front of him, refused to back down. He crossed his arms, the measuring tape around his neck like a yoke.

“No,” he declared. “She won’t get what she wants. I won’t have my name on a dress that makes her look like the guests should be throwing dollar bills at her instead of rice.”

Brie, who had been stamping out the smoldering cigarette, suddenly burst into laughter. Olivia spun on her kitten heels, directing her rage toward the girls.

“I’ll have no comments from the two of you, either,” she said, her voice echoing throughout the room. “You’re hired for the chocolate. That’s all.”

“A fountain. I want a fountain. A big one. And swans.” Harper, obviously happy that her mother was doing the arguing for her, stared at Mac and Brie in the mirror. “And no dark or milk chocolate. I only want white chocolate.”

Mac watched as all the humor and color drained from Brie’s face. She actually blanched. Asking her for a white chocolate fountain was the equivalent of asking a Michelin-starred chef to make fish and chips.

“White—fountain? White chocolate isn’t even chocolate!” It was Brie’s turn to raise her voice. “People stopped doing fountains years ago! ”

“What is
wrong
with these people, Mother?” Harper cried out, her pink nails sinking into the satin as she made two furious little fists. “Why is no one giving me what
I
want? This is
my
day.” Olivia’s affected intonations were maddening on the phone; her daughter’s narcissistic emulation could drive Mac and Brie to violence.

“Complete lack of taste.” Olivia addressed the three of them. There was a rage in her eyes that made her look old and cruel despite the Chanel suit, Botox, and thousand-dollar highlights. “Listen to me. I am going to go take my Xanax. You have stressed me out
that
badly. But when I get back, you all
will
have a plan in place, or I will single-handedly destroy all three of you. You will never work again. It’s as simple as that.” Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Hood stalked from the ballroom, her heels ringing out like gunshots against the polished wood.

In the mirror, Harper smiled smugly at them—her face just as ugly as her mother’s, despite its artfully crafted contours and injections.

“You heard her,” she said softly. “Get to work.”

Sabrina leaped up on one of the jutting black rocks revealed by the low tide. She spread her arms wide, the wind whipping her black tee shirt behind her like bat wings. She turned to face Louis and Mac, lowering her lush brows to take on a decidedly sinister look.