The Keeneston Roses (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Daisy took her spot on the front porch of her childhood home and shot her sisters a smile. John was off doing who-knows-what, leaving the three sisters the entire morning to gossip. So much had changed in just two months—the summer heat being one. Daisy poured herself a glass of iced tea and took a cold drink.

“What’s Charlie up to this morning?” Violet asked as she crocheted.

“He’s visiting family in Cincinnati. His granddaughter is graduating from college this week.”

“Why didn’t you go with him?” Lily asked.

“We’ve only been dating two months. I’ve met them all, and they’re lovely, but I didn’t want to interfere. Besides, there’s an unresolved bet we need to take care of, and having Charlie gone for a week will let me give it my undivided attention.”

“Demanding, is he?” Lily snickered.

Daisy shot her a look, but it was true. She and Charlie had been inseparable since he moved to town. Violet had taught her some special meals to make, and she enjoyed having him over to eat, play cards, or go to a movie. He even cooked for her and always took her to events she knew he might not enjoy, like the garden show, just because he knew she liked it. She had laughed more, loved more, and lived more these past two months than she had since college.

“As if John isn’t?” Daisy teased back.

Violet smiled, but it was a shadow of her normal grin. “I’m so happy for you two.” Violet reached out and clasped each sister’s hand in hers. “To see you this happy after all these years warms my heart. So, when is the wedding, Lily Rae?”

Lily shrugged. “I was thinking late this summer, right before all the kids go back to school.”

“You just tell us what you need us to do.” Daisy grinned and secretly hoped there would be two weddings soon. While Charlie hadn’t said anything about it specifically, he kept saying how wonderful it was Lily and John were marrying. She had a feeling if she gave a hint to being open to it, he would ask her. She’d wondered and waited for Robert, but now she didn’t want to wait. She was in love and was ready to be a bride.

“I was going to plan it all, but the women kind of took it over for me. Paige is taking me dress shopping next week after that ball for the British prince at Mo and Dani’s. Kenna is narrowing down a list of locations, and Dani said Anton, their chef, will cook—”

“What?” Violet asked incredulously. “You can’t have Anton cook for you—besides he doesn’t even really cook anymore. He’s eighty years old, for Pete’s sake. He just orders everyone around. Shoot, he’s too stubborn to even retire. I think Mo and Dani are forcing him into retirement.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. Violet and Anton Vasseur had a long-standing feud. He didn’t believe Violet could cook, and Anton reminded Violet too much of the life she’d left behind when she came back home.

“
Humph
, I always thought he liked you,” Lily tossed out innocently.

“Like me? I’m nine years older than he is, and he hates me.” Violet stabbed her crochet needle into the ball of yarn.

“Dear, what’s nine years when you’re as old as we are?” Lily chided.

“But he’s the one nine years younger. It’s just not done.”

Daisy giggled. “Sure it is. You’d be the envy of all the women at seniors. It’s very fashionable. Besides, you still have all of your curves . . . even if they’re just a little lower now.” Daisy squeaked when the ball of yarn smacked her face.

“I thought we were here to decide what to do about Nabi. We need to find him a wife,” Violet said, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, wait a second.” Lily looked down at her phone. “Abby’s calling me.”

As Lily talked to Abby, Violet fumed. Her own sister was ditching her for Anton. Sure, it would be hard on her to cook for so many people. But it was her sister. It was her right to do it. Would she even be able to make the cake? She hoped so. It would be something special, from one sister to the other on a day none of them had thought would come.

“What was that all about?” Violet asked when Lily hung up.

“That was Abby. She said all the kids are meeting here. They need our help.”

“I’ll get my spoon,” Daisy said with excitement. “Do you want your broom, Lily Rae?”

Lily let out a sigh. “I don’t think it’s that kind of help.”

“That’s too bad. It’s been kind of dull around here since we scared all the bad people away. So, if it’s not something dangerous, then what is it?”

“I guess we’ll find out. Did you all get your invitations to the charity ball Dani and Mo are hosting for Prince James?” Lily asked.

Violet nodded along with Daisy. Lily and Daisy started talking about bringing John and Charlie along with them and how romantic it would be. Violet chided herself for being envious, but it didn’t work. She was happy for her sisters, but now she felt alone. She was the one without a date, without a second chance of love, and mostly, she was the one being left behind as her sisters moved on in their lives.

Her phone rang, and as her sisters continued talking, she stood up and walked to the other end of the porch to answer the call. “Hello, Dani.” Violet tried to sound upbeat.

“Oh, Miss Violet, the most awful thing has happened,” Dani, or Princess Danielle of Rahmi as she was more formally known, cried into the phone.

“What is it, dear?” Violet asked, worried. Dani was not one to get upset over nothing.

“It’s the ball! Prince James just held a press conference about his visit to Kentucky, and all he could talk about was
Southern
cooking! Anton doesn’t do
Southern
. . . he does French or nothing at all. What am I going to do?”

Violet pursed her lips. She knew what she could do. She just didn’t like the idea. “Let me help, dear. I’ll come and teach the kitchen staff all they need to know for a good old-fashioned Southern meal.”

“Miss Violet, I don’t know how to thank you. You’ll be saving the ball. I’ll see you soon to start the first lesson. Thank you.” The line went dead as Violet imagined Dani running through their mansion to prepare Anton for her arrival.

Dani hung up the phone and turned with a satisfied smile upon her face. “Well, did she buy it?” Tammy asked as the roomful of women eagerly waited.

Dani put her hand on her hips. “Was there ever any doubt? She bought it hook, line, and sinker.”

Katelyn pushed her long blond hair over her shoulder and frowned. “But now we have to get Anton to cooperate.”

Kenna shook her head. “It’s so obvious to all of us that they would be perfect together. How can they not see it?”

“Love is blind,” Annie said and shook her head. “In this case, blind to the possibility of it.”

“I don’t understand why they fight so much. Are you sure this is the right match?” Paige asked.

Morgan nodded, her black hair streaked with silver strands swaying. “I’m sure it is. If I’ve ever seen a couple so similar to Miles and me, it’s them. And we all know how we turned out,” Morgan grinned happily.

“Oh, that’s true.” Gemma smirked. “There’ve been reports of strange sounds out by the water tower one night each year . . .” Gemma snapped her fingers, “and you know, it just happens to be the same day as your anniversary.”

The girls all laughed before Dani marshaled the troops. They had a kitchen to storm, and a French cook to wrangle.

* * *

“
Non!
” Violet heard Anton Vasseur, the head chef for the Rahmi family, yell at his kitchen staff.
“Non! Non! Non!
”

Violet heard the sound of a pan crashing into the sink and smiled. It reminded her of her time back in France. Anton’s accent, combined with the smell of braised duck, had her flashing back. When it came to cooking, there was no one more passionate than the French. Unfortunately, it was now her duty to convince Anton that her version of Southern cuisine was just as artistic and complex as French cooking.

“
Tsk, Anton. Na pas votre mere vous apprendre qu’il est impoli de jeter des choses?
” Violet asked in French. It felt good to speak French skills again.

She smiled as Anton spun around to stare in surprise at her. He was a handsome man who had aged well. His gray hair was cut short, and his face was clean-shaven. He was impeccably attired in his black pants and white chef’s jacket. Anton’s blue eyes glared in anger as he looked her over. Goodness, her sisters were crazy to think someone as young as he was would be interested in someone who was turning ninety next year. Sure, he had a rounded belly that showed he enjoyed eating the delicious pastries that he made. But he had a palate like no one she’d ever met.

“No, my mother did not teach me it was impolite to throw things. My mother was French. Where do you think I learned it?” Anton asked with his smooth French accent that slipped over Violet and caused her to smile. She loved the challenge he issued with those words. It made her feel alive to verbally spar with him.

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” Anton asked, stepping away from the sink. The kitchen staff all stared in wonder to anyone standing up to him. But, Violet was no shrinking violet.

“Until the ball, this is
our
kitchen. I’ve been hired by Dani and Mo to teach y’all about upscale Southern cuisine. Prince James stated in a recent interview he couldn’t wait to have some
Southern
food on his visit to Kentucky. So, here I am. Let’s get started.”

The kitchen staff took a step back. They knew the fireworks were about to start. Anton didn’t even look at them as he approached Violet and stopped directly in front of her. He stared down his sharp nose at her and sneered. “Everyone out. Now.”

Violet smiled sweetly back at Anton as the kitchen staff fled. She was practically giddy. “Don’t you want your staff to see how to make the food they are going to prepare?”

“I will not be preparing something as amateurish as Southern food. I will not serve fried chicken to royalty. I will quit before I do such a thing. And I certainly won’t be taught by you.”

“I am a classically trained chef. You do know that, don’t you? In fact, I believe we graduated from the same culinary school.” Violet smiled again and tried not to laugh at his shocked expression. “But, how about this? You take a break, do some deep breathing, and come to terms with the fact that you are going to learn how to make Southern food, while I prepare some of the plates I intend to serve at the ball. I’ll call you when I am ready, and then we’ll test your legendary palate. Blindfolded.”

“What for? This serves no purpose. I will not be serving this food no matter how much you bat those beautiful eyes of yours.”

Anton surprised her with the compliment. He thought she had beautiful eyes? His praise threw her off balance and caused her to stutter. When one side of his mouth quirked up, she stomped her foot. “Oh! You did that on purpose. You think false compliments will make me forget about my job—well, no way! I bet you won’t be able to identify all the components of my meal. And furthermore, I bet you will love every bite of it!”

Anton shrugged. “I am French; seduction is in my blood. I can seduce you and still hate your cooking. I’ll take that bet. But when I win, you get out of my kitchen.”

Violet felt herself blush as if she were a teenager again. “And if I win, you agree to be the Blossom Café’s guest chef for two nights where you will serve a
Southern
menu.”

Anton held out his hand. “Deal.”

Violet placed her hand in his and shook it before he brought her hand to his lips. He placed a slow, lingering kiss on her knuckles, and Violet was robbed of the ability to speak. With a wink, he walked from the room, whistling. Violet was so surprised she didn’t notice the nine smiling women looking in the windows and giving each other high-fives.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Violet felt naughty. Her heart pounded as she wrapped the blindfold around Anton’s eyes. Her hands lingered, letting them fall to his shoulders. She looked at her hands and saw not the hands of an old woman, but of a young woman on an adventure. She knew she was the type who liked to be challenged and liked to stay on her toes. But until the moment Anton had told her she had beautiful eyes, she had thought the strong feelings she had for him had been hate, when they had been attraction all along. He stood up to her bossy ways, and there had always been a twinkle in his eyes when they argued. How could she not see the passion between them?

Easy, he was younger than she was, and she was raised in an era where men simply didn’t date older women. She knew she could never act on these feelings, but the relief she felt just knowing she was capable of having them was enough to give her hope.

“Right this way, Anton.” Violet steered him down the hall and through the kitchen door. She directed him to a stool and helped him sit down in front an appetizer, a soup, a salad, an entrée, and a dessert.

“Are you ready?” Violet asked. She picked up a country ham canapé.

“Ready to beat you, you mean,” Anton grinned devilishly. “Maybe I should have bet a kiss from you instead.” He chuckled when he heard Violet gulp.

“Open up,” Violet squeaked before clearing her throat.

Anton opened his mouth and Violet set the food on his tongue. He closed his mouth and slowly chewed. She saw him move the food around his mouth as every taste bud had a chance to identify the ingredients.

“It’s a country ham canapé with a bite. The salt of the ham is balanced out nicely with the cheese, but it’s not regular cheddar. Can I have another bite?”

Violet didn’t say a word as she placed another bite in his open mouth. She grinned from ear to ear. She knew he would never be able to figure out the special ingredient. It was pure Kentucky magic.

“I taste cheddar, garlic, and something slightly hot. Cayenne?”

“Is that your final guess?” Violet asked with as much calm as she could.

She waited as Anton’s lips thinned. He knew he was missing something. “
Oui
,” he replied confidently.

“It looks like I’ve already won our bet. But let’s continue playing, shall we?” Violet crowed.

“What did I miss?”

“Beer,” Violet answered without restraining her glee.

“Beer?”

“Yes. You got the country ham canapé. And you were right; there was cheddar cheese and garlic. But there was also my own hot sauce that I knew you’d never get because of its complexity. And there was a can of Kentucky’s best-brewed beer. We call it Beer Cheese, for the obvious reason. It adds just the right amout of kick to the canapés, don’t you think?”

Anton snorted as he folded his arms over his chest. “Next.”

“Ready for the next one?” When he nodded she dipped her spoon into the soup. “Here you go.”

Anton tasted it and smiled. “Another bite, please.”

Darn, she knew she should have made this one harder, but this was a famous Kentucky dish, even if it might have French roots.

“I taste pork, beef, veal, and lamb. Knowing that everything is in it, if I had another bite, I am sure I would also taste chicken. It’s not so much a liquid, but more of a stew. I tasted potatoes, onions, cabbage, and tomato, to name just a few ingredients. It’s what you Kentuckians call
burgoo
.”

Violet smiled regardless of the fact he guessed it. She’d already won. “But do you like it?”

“Unfortunately, I do. Just as I enjoyed the appetizer.” Anton recrossed his arms, and Violet giggled when he gave a little pout.

“I’m glad. I won Anderson County’s Burgoo Festival ten years ago with this recipe. Now, here comes the salad.” She waited for Anton to cleanse his palate before handing him the fork with the salad on it.

“
Mmm.”
Anton groaned before realizing it. “It’s chicken salad on a bed of living lettuce and kale, with pecans, a dash of red pepper, and I taste a hint of white pepper as well. The dressing, I must admit, is very good with the dry mustard added. It could be very easy to add too much, but it’s just a hint that provides an excellent layer of flavor. I would suggest we offer two options of each course, so people may decide between the heavier options and a lighter one. You know too many of the women attending these things won’t eat anything that has calories,” Anton said in disgust.

“I agree completely. I was hoping we could work together on that part of the menu.”

“
Oui
, now what is the entrée, and do I still have to wear this blasted blindfold?”

Violet smiled shyly. Without realizing it, he had accepted her menu thus far and agreed to work with her. Violet cut into the entrée and handed it to him. She waited as he chewed.

“It’s fried chicken, but the flavor of the batter is unbelievable. Do I taste Mornay sauce?”

“Very good. Yes, it’s fried chicken topped with a Mornay sauce, but can you get the rest?”

“You stuffed the chicken . . . what is this?”

“Do you like it?” Violet held her breath in anticipation. This was her favorite Kentucky dish. It was so complex that she rarely made it.

“I love it. It’s very rich. To counter it, we will offer a tasteful Chilean sea bass for someone who wants something lighter. I know it’s not Kentucky food, but we can pair it with a Southern vegetable.”

“I love that idea. You know the open sandwich we call the Kentucky Hot Brown? The easiest way to think of this is as a cordon bleu, but stuffed with bacon, cheese, and tomato, then fried with a parmesan batter and topped with Mornay.”

“I must admit it is great. Of course, I don’t need to point out the French influence.”

“I told you, I’m a classically trained French chef. Of course there is a French influence.”

“Why didn’t you tell me so from the beginning? We’re essentially making a French dinner,” Anton said haughtily.

“If that makes you feel better when you’re cooking at The Blossom Café, then so be it.” Violet laughed.

“I can’t wait to taste dessert.”

Violet felt as if she’d been handed the world when Anton complimented her cooking. She was going basic Kentucky for dessert, and Anton would know it in an instant since everyone on the farm had been begging him to learn to make it. It was her signature dessert.

“Here you go,” Violet said and handed him the spoon.

“It’s your blasted bread pudding with bourbon butter sauce. And some kind of candy topper—chocolate, walnut, with a sharpness to it? What is that?”

“I topped it with a bourbon ball. Do you like it?”

“
Merde
! Do you know how often over the years I have tried to make this? It’s the sauce I can’t figure out,” Anton complained, taking off his blindfold. Appreciation and respect were now in his eyes.

“It’s a simple sauce once you know it. You need fresh cream and the best bourbon to get the rich flavor.”

Anton smiled down at her. “I was wrong,
ma chérie
. It is not as simple as frying food in butter. Now, what do you think about the sides for the sea bass?”

“What are they doing?” Gemma asked. “I lost sight of them.”

“They just turned on the music. It sounds like the songs I heard in Paris when I was modeling,” Katelyn whispered as she peered in the kitchen window.

“I can hear. I just can’t see,” Gemma complained.

“They’re cooking,” Tammy called to the women who couldn’t see.

“Oh, he just tied an apron around her,” Morgan told them as they each
awwed.

“They are cutting up food side by side,” Annie said and went up on her toes for a better look.

“She just fed him something she cooked,” Kenna whispered a moment later.

“That’s not all she’s feeding him,” Dani giggled. The women smiled and stepped away from the window.

“I think our work here is done.” Bridget smiled, and they walked around the house to the front door.

The sound of a throat clearing spun them around. “And what were you ladies doing, spying in the kitchen window?”

“Nabi!” Dani gasped. “You startled me. Oh, we were just taking a walk and wanted to peek in and see how the dinner menu was coming along.”

“And why didn’t you just go through the door to check?” Nabi placed his hands on his hips and stared them down.

“Don’t you know never to interrupt Anton when he’s creating? Do you think we’re stupid?” Bridget shot back. Nabi simply raised an eyebrow and shook his head before walking away.

“We really need to find him a wife,” Dani muttered.

“What about Tiffany Sanders?” Kenna suggested. “She’s the new president of the Keeneston Belles and is very nice.”

“Ew, she’s like Sienna’s age. Would you want your daughter to date Nabi? Not that there is anything wrong with him,” Annie backtracked.

The women walked in the front door and down the hall to Dani’s private sitting room. Each woman had her own spot. It hadn’t started out that way, but over the years they had each claimed a seat as theirs. There was a couch, a loveseat, and several comfortable chairs set up in a conversation square in the center of the room.

“What about Chrissy?” Katelyn asked.

“Who?” the rest of the women asked at once.

“My yoga instructor.”

The women looked at each other and nodded their agreement. Yoga instructor it was.