part0026

“It’s one of the best things about this job. It’s so varied. Every day is so unlike the other.” Isabella picked up the sketches she was working on. “And of course, weddings are the best.”

“They are. Can you show me what the bride wants?”

“Sure. I’ve met with her several times. She’d like the flowers to be in light shades of pink. Her bridal bouquet will be roses only.”

“How gorgeous.” Fiona looked wide-eyed at the drawings. “You can draw, Isabella.”

She showed her more suggestions.

“What about the groom? Does he have an opinion?”

“No, none. They usually don’t. At least, not with regards to flowers. If they’re smart, they let the bride take care of everything.” Isabella heard what she’d just said and started laughing. “Sorry, that didn’t sound nice. But you get what I mean.”

Fiona giggled. “Yes. Let the bride do what’s fun, and the groom can do the boring stuff.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Some men like to be involved in every detail, so they’re not all the same.” She came to think of Bob. He was one of them. If she’d married him, she never would have been allowed an opinion of her own, or at least not to express it. He would have taken over completely, controlling as he was.

She pushed the thoughts of her ex far away. She hadn’t seen him since the food festival a few days ago and was starting to hope he was getting bored of surprising her at home. She felt more assured than in a long time. And now she had a wedding to plan. Nothing was better than that.

“What about the church? How does she want it decorated?” Fiona asked.

“The bride would like roses at each bench row.” She pulled out the sketches of the church.

“It will be lovely.”

“I think so, too. I suggested three roses, one of each shade. Like in this drawing.” She pointed at the roses she’d colored.

“And a flower arrangement at each side of the bridal couple?”

“Yes, they sit opposite each other at first, before the minister marries them. That’s where the best man and maid of honor will sit, as well.” She showed where the arrangements would go.

“Where is the reception taking place?”

“Here at the hotel. It’s a small wedding. We’ll turn one of the conference rooms into a wedding venue.”

“How exciting. This is getting better and better.”

Isabella smiled. “Celine’s thoughts exactly. It’s her first wedding, and this is what she wants to work with more than anything else.”

“You’re sitting here dallying?” Dinah was towering over them with a condescending look on her face. “Aren’t you here to work, Fiona?”

“Mom, look at these drawings. I get to help make the flower arrangements for a wedding.”

Dinah wrinkled her nose, letting out a small grunt. “Oh, well. Are you ready for lunch?”

Fiona stood, hesitantly.

“We can continue later,” Isabella said. She disliked Dinah. Why couldn’t she be happy that her daughter enjoyed her work? It was Dinah herself who’d arranged this job at the florist. Some people were hard to figure out. She was probably jealous of Isabella and Fiona’s friendship. And she hadn’t known that Remy and Isabella would become good friends, thanks to Fiona’s summer job. This might be the result of too much organizing on Dinah’s part.

“Now, it’s our turn to show what we’re made of,” Nelly whispered way too loudly to Mrs. Hansen. It was the fourth and last night of the class, and they’d learned a lot over the weeks. Their self-confidence had boosted, and they were working more independently now.

Isabella had picked up many tips herself, but it wasn’t the same when she couldn’t try it out on the spot. To see how something was done wasn’t quite the same as doing it, but it was a start.

They were in full swing making Italian meringue, as icing on top of cupcakes. Everyone was overeager because this was something several had baked before, if only from a cake mix.

Nelly wanted tips to impress future guests and didn’t make a secret of it. She’d tried to reduce the amount of sugar but had given up and started anew, using the right amount. In the end, she’d decided it was useful to know how it was supposed to be. Then she could continue experimenting with alternative sweeteners at home. Her husband, Gustav, would be her guinea pig, as usual.

“Let the sugar syrup cook until it reaches what we call the soft ball stage,” Remy explained for the second time. “Keep an eye on the sugar thermometer. It should be almost two hundred forty degrees.”

Bob was ahead of the others. He beat the egg whites until they formed soft peaks and then added the sugar syrup gradually. Isabella kept her distance from Bob and let Remy assist him. Bob responded by being even more charming. He worked so fast that he could lend a hand to the others when they needed it, which made him even more popular.

“Almost the right temperature,” Emmelin said, staring intently at the thermometer. “I don’t dare look away.”

“You’re doing very well.” Isabella could tell how focused she was.

“Now!” Emmelin removed the pot from the cooktop. “That was nerve-wracking.” She laughed at herself.

“It looks good.” Remy came by to check and nodded his approval.

The rest of the night went by fast. Isabella thought it was nice to see their development and how they enjoyed learning new things. There were more guests in the restaurant than ever before, thanks to the recommendations from the participants. She couldn’t help but rejoice in the progress.

Most of all, she was delighted that the Thursday nights with Bob were over. The class had come to an end, and she would never have to be in the same room as him again.

Kitty refused to wear anything other than a silk blouse and a short skirt. It was her birthday and out of the question not to dress up. They couldn’t tell her where they were going as it was a surprise. They’d explained that she had to wear casual clothes, but there were no such things in Kitty’s wardrobe. The only consolation was that she always wore flats, which was suitable today. Sneakers would have been better, but their grandma was adamant. She didn’t own such sports shoes, she’d said. Everyone believed her.

The whole family was gathered. Kitty’s daughter-in-law, her grandkids and great-grandkids. Even Elvira’s boyfriend, Neil, had come. He’d been welcomed with open arms earlier in the spring, especially when it turned out he was Jasmine’s father. Jasmine had thereby gone from being Isabella’s sister to half-sister, without it making any difference.

Kitty was more excited than a kid when she discovered what they had in store for her. “Is it true? We’ll drive go-karts?” She clapped her hands. “I did that fifty years ago. It was so much fun.”

No one doubted it. Kitty had tried this and that in her younger days. “Do you see why you should have worn other clothes?” Isabella looked at her, amused.

“Never mind.” Kitty fastened her helmet and didn’t pay much attention to the advice given.

Elvira was the only one who didn’t want to drive, and Jasmine was not allowed since she was pregnant. Reluctantly, they agreed to keep an eye on Patricia, who’d drive on a separate track later.

Isabella appreciated that her mother was no fan of Celine, who was a result of her husband William’s infidelity. That was why Elvira kept Patricia and Celine at arm’s length whenever possible.

“Is everyone ready?” The assistant checked that everything was in order. They were buckled up, their helmets on, and they knew what to do. Kitty was at the front, readier than anyone else. Her skirt had slid up her thighs, but that was of little importance and not an impediment.

The starting shot went off, and Kitty was quick as always. Her small hands held firmly onto the wheel, and her eyes were determined. Isabella struggled to keep up, but it was incredible fun. She bumped into her brother and pushed him sideways. It was part of the game, but Tony was of the careful type and didn’t quite grasp what was going on.

They raced lap after lap. Kitty was still in the lead, and that was how it ended.

“Yay, I won!” Kitty hollered and received congratulations from the others.

“It was well deserved. We’ll call you ‘The Flash’ from now on.” Isabella laughed. She wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Kitty if she’d tried.

“I didn’t drive a scooter in my youth for nothing,” Kitty said proudly. “Although it can’t compare to this.”

They all walked over to watch Patricia drive on the kids’ track, before doing more laps.

“This isn’t my idea of relaxation,” Tony said. He’d come in last on the first round and had then thrown in the towel. Not because he minded being last, but because this wasn’t his thing at all. He preferred tranquil activities. Yoga and meditation were more his style.

Isabella felt sorry for her brother. He was still pale but didn’t look sick any longer. “I know, but it’s nice you came along to celebrate Kitty. It’s good to do something as a family sometimes.”

Tony nodded, but she wasn’t able to read his face. He was weird; she’d never got him. Maybe he’d spent too much time in India. He ought to find himself a girlfriend, to focus on something other than himself.

When they were finished with go-karting, they went to the hotel for the birthday dinner. The Flying Fish had set a long table by the picture windows. Isabella knew that Remy was working tonight. She suspected he wanted to make sure the meal was a success. He was a control freak, while at the same time trusting his employees. What a combination!

She tried concentrating on the food that was served. The big shellfish platters that the restaurant was known for should be promoted better. She could see that now. Prawns, mussels, lobsters, scallops, oysters, scampi and several types of crab.

“What a fantastic celebration you’ve organized for me,” Kitty said, her voice touched with emotion and her eyes moist. “Getting older is fun.” She slurped oysters as if it was daily fare. “Ah, my dear Freddy should’ve eaten this. It might’ve spiced things up.”

Isabella hid a smile. Kitty had a way with words. She glanced at Miranda, who was sitting at a safe distance from Jasmine. Oysters were a well-known aphrodisiac. Jasmine wisely declined. She must have had enough love potions to last a lifetime, judging by the size of her belly. Isabella knew that Miranda had a hard time dealing with her younger sister. Her betrayal was unforgivable. She was glad Miranda was happy with both her new house and boyfriend. What they hoped for most of all was a lucky result at the end of the year when Jasmine’s baby finally saw the light of day. How would it all end?

“I can’t eat shellfish now I’m pregnant,” Jasmine said disappointedly. “You could’ve asked me before deciding on the menu.”

Honestly, they hadn’t thought about their pregnant sister at all when they planned the birthday. Maybe they should have, but Jasmine had received enough attention lately. They tried not to center on her.

“Surely there must be something you can eat out of all this deliciousness,” Miranda said through gritted teeth. “Otherwise, you’ll have to wait for the dessert.”

Isabella hadn’t expected Remy to enter the restaurant, he usually preferred being in the kitchen. Now he was by her side.

“Are you enjoying your meal?” Remy was standing with his arms crossed like a real chef, towering over them.

They all started talking at once. Isabella heard words like ‘delicate, amazing, exquisite,’ but was more interested in Remy, who was so close to her. She was proud of him, even though he wasn’t hers. How strange was that? Their relationship was indeed odd. They were not together, but they were more than just good friends.

Remy put a hand on her shoulder and bent down. “Are you ready for dessert?” he asked in a low voice.

“I think so. Even Mom and Tony, who are vegetarians, tried some seafood. That’s never happened before.” His hand was warm against her neck, and she could sense everyone’s eyes on them.

“Good.” Almost unnoticeably, he caressed her when retracting his hand, before walking back to the kitchen.

Elvira gasped. “He touched your shoulder, Isabella. What’s that supposed to mean?”

She felt her hot face getting hotter. “I know him. We’re friends.”

“Looked like you’re more than friends.”

Isabella wondered what the problem was. Her mother had had her fair share of men over the years and was a fine one to talk.

“Isn’t he handsome?” Kitty looked longingly toward the kitchen as if he’d magically reappear. “My Freddy never had an upright carriage like that. He was more like a sack of potatoes, with his round belly and all. At least, the last thirty years.”

“There, there. No unfavorable talk about Granddad. He was loved by us all.” Isabella felt she had to defend Freddy, but it was just as much an attempt to steer the conversation away from Remy and herself.

“Certainly, but that has nothing to do with it. Some are just easier on the eyes than others.” Kitty kept talking, unabated.

Dessert was served. It resembled a piece of art: cheesecake with apricot jelly, chocolate ganache with a hint of mint and sprinkled with chopped almonds, in addition to exotic fruits that Isabella had already forgotten the names of. Kitty also had her marzipan cake with ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it in pretty, slanted letters.

“It seems like the culinary class was a splendid idea,” Miranda said. “There’s an increase in the number of guests at the restaurant.” As the hotel manager, she had a complete overview of every department.

“Tourists or locals?”

“Both. They’re not easy to differentiate since many of them aren’t staying at the hotel. They’re day trippers. However, some of the waiters were born and raised in Solvik. They know most of the inhabitants, both by sight and by name.”

“That’s smart. And the tourists staying at the hotel add their bill to their rooms?” Isabella was pleased that the cooking class appeared to have had the desired effect.