On Thin Icing (7 page)

“I’ll help you to your cabin,” Whitney said. She seemed much calmer. “You said you’re working on a generator or something?” she asked Gavin.

He nodded.

“Does that mean my e-mail will work again?”

Gavin swept glass into the dust pan. “Nope. There’s no service up here. The generator is backup for when we lose power.”

“When we lose power?” Her eyes widened.

“Yep. Count on it.” He nodded to the bay window where fat flakes of snow cascaded to the ground. “This is just a warm-up. Mother Nature has a big show brewing.”

Whitney’s shoulders sagged. She took Dean by the arm and led him away.

Gavin dumped the glass in a garbage pan. “I’ve got a date with a generator. Anything else you need?”

“We’re good, thanks,” I said.

He tipped his fishing cap and headed out into the snow.

Carlos and I walked to the kitchen. “That was weird.”

“I do not like that man,” Carlos said, holding the door open for me.

“You made that clear,” I replied. “You don’t need to do that, you know.

“Do what?”

“Try to protect me like that. I can handle myself. I’ve dealt with much worse than Tony over the years.”

“I know you can.” He waited for me to go in first.

I pushed past him. He wasn’t wrong about Tony. The guy was a first-class jerk, but there was something about Carlos stepping in to protect me that triggered my anger. Had he always done that? Swooped in and taken over?

I didn’t have time to dissect it at the moment. I had a dinner to serve.

Sterling was assembling the beautifully toasted baguettes on silver trays. “Hey, how’s everything up front?”

“Tony’s a real winner,” I replied, walking to the sink to wash my hands. “Those look great and smell even better.”

Carlos removed a bruschetta slice from the tray and took a bite. “It’s good.” He nodded. “But maybe it needs a little more balsamic.” He picked up a bottle of the vinegar and covered the top with his thumb. “See, do this.” He showed Sterling how to shake the vinegar so that it speckled each colorful slice of charred toast with a splash of rich liquid.

“Got it.” Sterling took the bottle from Carlos and practiced the technique. Carlos gave Sterling a look of approval.

I opened the oven doors to check on the roasts. The smell of citrus, herbs, and golden chickens escaped from the bricks. Each chicken had a lovely buttery skin, but when I cut into one its juices still ran slightly pink. They needed a few more minutes. Why was everything taking so long to bake?

I sent Sterling out with the bruschetta while I gave the chicken more time to bake. Carlos sensed my anxiety. He rubbed my back. “It will be fine, relax, Julieta. The food, it has a mind of its own. It will be done soon.”

“They’re loving the appetizers, Jules,” Sterling said, returning with an empty tray.

“See, relax.” Carlos released me.

I directed Sterling to assemble the garden salad. He tossed butter leaf and romaine lettuce in a large mixing bowl and then added shredded carrots, cherry tomatoes, olives, snap peas, and homemade croutons. Right before we served the salad, we would dress it with a light olive oil and citrus vinaigrette to pull out the fruit flavor in the roasts.

Carlos rolled up his sleeves and started mashing potatoes without a word. He always knew exactly what needed to be done. That bugged me, too. Was he always this perfect?

Pulling on the thick gloves, I removed a pan from the oven and said a prayer as I cut into it. This time the juices ran clear. Thank goodness they were finally done. I removed the remaining birds and placed them on the counter. Then I covered them with foil. I’d let the juices settle while Sterling served appetizers. After they’d rested for a few minutes, we would make a vegetable gravy.

We could hear board members mingling and chatting over wine as we put the finishing touches on the meal. I transferred the roasted vegetables to the stove and added white wine. I’d let them reduce and add some flour to help thicken them into a gravy.

Lance had requested that all meals be served family style in order to match his cabin theme and encourage the board members to get to know each other. That was great with me. It was much easier to serve the meal in large dishes, rather than individually plating each serving.

I ran the gravy through a sieve and poured it into a silver gravy boat. Carlos sprinkled the smashed potatoes with sea salt, pepper, and a little fresh rosemary. Sterling tossed the dressing on the salad and took it out to the dining room. I followed behind him with the potatoes, as Carlos expertly carved the juicy roasts.

Lance jumped to his feet as I entered the dining room. “May I introduce the lovely Juliet, our chef for the weekend.” He dinged on his wine glass with his salad fork. “We’re a bit shorter in numbers than expected thanks to Mother Nature. I’ve counted twenty-five of us which means that we’ll have a majority for any voting, and it also means that you brave souls who have ventured out in the storm will have more of Juliet’s divine cooking all to yourselves.”

I could feel my cheeks warm as I balanced a piping-hot ceramic bowl of potatoes. It’s an annoying habit that I can’t control.

Dean and Whitney sat next to one another on the opposite side of the table. Dean had changed out of his wine-stained clothes. Whitney smiled at me as Lance gushed about my talent.

“Juliet’s baking is to die for, isn’t it, darling?” His playful eyes shimmered with delight. “You are all in for a treat this weekend.” He waved at the food Sterling and I delivered. “Don’t be shy, dig in, everyone, dig in.”

I made my escape to the kitchen before Lance could embarrass me more. I needed to get the bread pudding in the oven to give it enough time to bake before the guests finished dinner. Knowing Lance, I had a feeling we didn’t need to rush. He had a tendency toward long speeches and making sure wine was constantly flowing.

“The puddings are already in,” Carlos said, as I returned to the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I tried to silence my head as I rinsed blackberries and raspberries. Had I really changed this much since I’d been home? I knew I was different, but having Carlos here made me feel like an entirely different person and the same all at once.

Before I had time to dwell on it, a commotion broke out in the dining hall. I knew immediately who was to blame—Tony.

Chapter Seven

Carlos grabbed a wooden spoon and sprinted to the dining room before I could even react. Sterling removed warm caramel sauce from the stove. “What is that guy’s problem?” he asked over the sound of Tony’s bellowing voice.

“I don’t know, but I better go check.”

“It seems like Carlos is on it.”

“Yeah.” I sighed and wiped my hands on my apron. “He is.”

Sterling looked puzzled. “Isn’t that a good thing? He’s great. And he’s obviously in love with you, Jules.”

Tony’s voice was getting louder. “Anyone else want a piece of me?”

I shook my head and hurried out of the kitchen. “How about you, old man?” Tony bellowed at Dean Barnes. “You wanna stop following me around? What? Are you so desperate for a drink, you gotta follow me?”

“No. I want you to reimburse me for ruining my hunting boots and best trousers.” Dean held his full wine glass in a challenging toast, egging Tony on. Not a wise move. Tony was clearly drunk. His ruddy cheeks and nose were bright red. He rocked from side to side.

Mercury jumped to her feet. “Tony! Enough—get outside.” She waved frantically to Gavin Allen, who was tinkering with the thermostat.

Gavin shoved his screwdriver in his tool belt and stomped toward Tony.

Tony swayed in a circular motion. He tried to raise his arm and point at Mercury, but it danced with the motion of his body. “I know things. Important things.”

“What this chap doesn’t seem to know is how to pour a glass of wine or control his liquor,” Dean said to Mercury. “I’ll have you know that he ruined a very expensive pair of boots. Not a good impression for your guests.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mercury replied, keeping one eye on Tony as she spoke. “I’ll make sure that we get everything straightened out.”

Tony pantomimed her speech as she tried to reassure Dean.

Mercury pursed her lips and wrapped her arms around her body, standing her ground. “Outside—now!”

“Who’s gonna make me?” Tony slurred.

Gavin came up from behind him. He grabbed Tony’s arm but Tony was surprisingly quick. He swung his elbow and punched Gavin on the side of his forehead. Gavin stumbled backward.

Mercury looked to Lance for help. He caught her eye and nodded. Then he threw back his chair and poised as if he were pacing out a fight scene for the stage. Tony lunged at him. Carlos jumped between them just as Tony took a swing. His fist hit Carlos square in the jaw.

I heard the sound of a crack, and threw my hand over my face.

Carlos ducked as Tony took another swing. He missed.

Lance jumped into position. He grabbed Tony from behind, as Carlos avoided another punch and managed to yank Tony’s arm to his side. He held the wooden spoon in his other hand like a sword. I had to stifle a laugh. What was Carlos going to do with a wooden spoon?

Gavin had recovered from the hit he took to the head. He flipped his fishing cap backward and stormed toward Tony. Two other board members sprang into action. In a flash they wrapped Tony up. Tony tried to free himself from their grasp, as they escorted him out. I watched as Gavin kicked open the front door to the lodge with his heavy work boot. Tony stumbled into the cold. Mercury followed and stood in the door frame. He yelled, “I know things!” Then he disappeared into the darkness.

The dining hall went silent. There were no clinking forks or conversations. Everyone stared at Lance as he tightened the scarf around his neck and addressed the board. “Well, who knew that even in this remote location, we’d have a chance to witness such dramatic flair? I want to cast him as Brutus. Who’s with me?”

Board members chuckled. Lance had broken the tension. “I think this is a good time for dessert,” he said to me, as he took his seat.

“I’m on it.”

Carlos started to follow after me. Lance reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Oh, do wait.” He raised his wine glass in the air. “A toast to our dashing hero. Thank you for swooping in and saving the day.”

Carlos gave a little bow. Bad idea. That fueled Lance. He rested his glass on the table. “A round of applause for our new leading man.”

The room erupted in laughter and applause as Carlos took another exaggerated bow with his wooden spoon.

“Put a steak on that chin. We wouldn’t want that chiseled jawline to see any permanent damage.”

“I am fine,” Carlos protested and followed me into the kitchen. I knew he was in more pain than he was letting on. He massaged his jaw, and kept twisting his mouth from side to side.

I went straight to the freezer, pulled out an ice pack and tossed it to him. “Lance is right, you better ice that before it swells.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, placing the ice pack on his chin.

Sterling had finished assembling the bread pudding toppings. A tray of beautiful colors and flavors sat on the counter. “What happened out there?”

“Tony happened.” I stretched the leather oven mitts over my arms. “I don’t know what his deal is. I’m not sure if he was drunk, or just intentionally trying to pick a fight.”

“The second,” Carlos said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Some men are like that.”

Sterling nodded in agreement. “I know the type.”

“I don’t get it.” I removed a bread pudding from the oven and tested it. The center jiggled. Drat. They weren’t quite ready, either. “Women don’t do that.”

“No, women do other maddening things, no?” Carlos asked Sterling.

Sterling laughed. “No comment.”

“We need to get this dessert out.” I changed the subject. After a few minutes I removed another ramekin from the oven. The vanilla scent of the warm pudding was heavenly. The top of the pudding had crisped to a light brown color. That was a good sign. Now for the moment of truth. I carefully tested it with a fork. I squinted as I pulled the fork from the center. It came out clean. Whew. I removed the rest of the puddings, thankful that this was our last item of the evening.

If the pudding tasted as good as it looked and smelled, Lance’s guests should return to their cabins with happy bellies. Carlos and Sterling delivered the toppings to the guests while I carefully placed the puddings in front of each guest, with a stern warning not to touch the side of the ramekins.

“Impeccable timing, darling,” Lance whispered as I set a steaming bread pudding on his plate. “Any chance you have some coffee on back there?”

Coffee. Shoot. I’d totally forgotten to start coffee with the scuffle between Carlos and Tony. “No, but I’ll get right on it,” I replied.

Sterling removed the dinner dishes. I hurried to grind beans. There’s no comparison to using fresh ground beans in my opinion. We store our beans in airtight containers at Torte. When a customer places an order for coffee, they know they are getting the absolute freshest experience.

Carlos poked at the fire as I dumped beans into the grinder. A fruity chocolate aroma filled the room. I found myself acutely aware of my posture as I poured water into the coffee maker and added the coffee grounds. I could feel Carlos’s eyes on my back as I moved through the kitchen. If I had known he was coming I would have put a little more thought into what I was wearing.

The coffeepot hummed to life. I could use a cup of the rich brew right now, I thought. Sterling filled the sink with hot soapy water and rinsed the dishes. Fortunately the kitchen had a large industrial dishwasher. We’d need all the dishes for breakfast. I had a feeling the next two days were going to be a constant cycle of bake—serve—wash—repeat.

“You want me to run this yet?” Sterling asked as he loaded the last plate into the dishwasher.

“Is there enough room for the ramekins?” I asked, stacking coffee cups on the counter. The coffee was almost finished. I filled one of the mugs with water and stuck it in the microwave. Mom says that I’m a coffee snob. I say I have a ritual when it comes to drinking java. My ritual always begins with a warm mug. It makes a difference, trust me.