Flick turned the Egyptian torte around on the turntable as she spread the top layer of hazelnut. Light and crunchy, and one of the simpler recipes in her repertoire, the alternating layers of biscuit, custard filling and crunchy hazelnut topping made it the perfect dessert as temperatures increased day by day.
She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and stepped back to assess the overall appearance of her torte. All around her, familiar sounds rose from a kitchen preparing for another busy Saturday. Most staff were on duty and a long day stretched ahead of all of them. She thought longingly of cooling breezes and the slap of waves against a double hull. If only she could have been out on the catamaran trip with Xander and Jenny.
As Christophe took a turn around the various workstations, she stopped him, her spatula raised above the torte. ‘Christophe, do you want the pavlovas cooked as individual serves, or as a single large dessert?’
‘We usually make them as a single big one, but—what’s your reasoning for small ones? They don’t look as impressive.’
‘True, but they hold their shape through to the last serving, whereas you only need one clumsy cut to mess up the entire large plate. I know how busy the restaurant is going to be tonight. Can I make them small this time?’
Christophe pursed his lips and frowned slightly, a look she had come to recognise meant he was giving the idea serious consideration. Finally, he nodded. ‘Let’s do mini pavlovas surrounding a large, lightly-flamed meringue. Make the large meringue the centrepiece with mounded topping, peaked like a mountain, and the small ones like those who have come to adore.’
‘Yes, chef. I’m on it.’ She visualised a snowy Mt Blanc shape with clusters of free-form meringues topped with locally sourced kiwifruit, and indigenous red berries. They would be enhanced by a subtle lavender colour if Christophe agreed. Before she could second-guess herself, she called after him. ‘Do you mind if I try out a lavender-flavoured cream to complement them? I’ve done the research and I arranged for a small quantity of lavender to be delivered from one of the local farms.’
‘Let me taste the cream first. If it’s as good as the idea sounds, and if there are enough flowers, you could create a lavender field at the base of the meringue mountain.’ He smiled before turning on his heel and striding into his office.
A field of lavender on a snowy meringue mountain …
Christophe’s ideas for presentation were often quirky, but always visually appealing. Almost every day Flick found yet one more reason to be grateful her car accident had happened here at Rainbow Cove. Without it, she wouldn’t have had the great experience of working with the Frenchman—fate had well and truly landed her on her feet.
And I wouldn’t be sneaking out to meet Xander and wanting more than moonlit kisses.
She sighed as she separated eggs, sourced locally like almost everything Christophe used in his restaurant, and tipped the whites into a shiny silver mixing bowl, giving thanks for this particular detour in her life. Christophe had taken a chance on her when she’d been at her lowest point. Now she was baking again, her world had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Watching how he ran Chez Christophe was feeding her dream of one day owning her own restaurant. That, and putting away money towards a deposit. Chez Christophe might not be her parents’ Pecorino, but the dream would be hers, and she would stay there forever.
Nobody would take that dream from her.
***
Xander took Jenny’s hand and helped her step from the backboard of the catamaran onto the dock. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her eyes were bright. ‘Did you enjoy net surfing?’
‘It was fun. But I like cooking with Flick better.’ Jenny skipped a few steps along the dock. Her towel slid off her shoulder and was caught by a couple who were following them.
‘Here you go.’
Jenny took the towel from the young man, her gaze sliding away as she remembered her manners. ‘Thank you.’
A burst of pride filled Xander. For so long, Jenny had been shy and unwilling to interact with strangers, but this visit had changed so much for her, and meeting Flick had been the catalyst.
‘You’re welcome. My wife caught it.’ The man pulled the woman close—surely honeymooners by the way they were all but joined at the hip—and kissed her cheek.
‘Are you married?’ Jenny’s gaze fixed unblinkingly on the couple.
Both grinned. ‘Yeah, why? Does it show?’
‘Mum says people who kiss are married—or getting married.’ She glanced up sideways at Xander and giggled. ‘Xander’s going to marry Flick. He kissed her in the kitchen.’
Damn it. He’d meant to talk to Jenny about that, but the right time never seemed to eventuate.
Suppressing a groan, Xander nodded to the couple and dropped an arm over Jenny’s shoulders. ‘Thanks again, folks, and glad you enjoyed the cruise. Come on, Jenny. We’ll have lunch and a swim, and then we’ll pack your suitcase ready for tomorrow.’
Her face fell as it had when he’d mentioned packing earlier.
‘You want to see Mum and Dad, don’t you? They’re certainly missing you.’
‘Course I do only …’
‘Only what?’
‘Can I be a bridesmaid when you and Flick get married?’
Enough already.
Xander led her into a shaded part of the pool surrounds and sat her at a table before taking the seat beside her.
‘Are we going to have lunch here, Xander? Can I have chips please?’
He took hold of her shoulders and waited until she was looking at him. ‘Maybe. Listen, Jenny, we need to have a talk about Flick and me. We’re not getting married.’
‘But Mum said …’
‘I know what Mum said, but not everyone who kisses does it because they plan to get married. Sometimes grownups like to kiss just because they like each other.’
Jenny frowned. ‘So, you and Flick aren’t going to make babies?’
Xander’s breath whooshed out in disbelief. Where had Jenny got that idea? Did she even know how babies were made? If their mother had had the talk with Jenny, why hadn’t she mentioned it to him? ‘We are not going to make babies. All we did was share a kiss.’
‘Because you like Flick and she likes you.’
‘That’s right. I kissed Flick because I like her.’
‘You liked Eve on the catamaran too, but you didn’t kiss her. Why not?’
Xander thought about his very pregnant employee who was about to go on maternity leave. Jenny hadn’t commented on Eve’s pregnancy bump and he hadn’t mentioned the baby in Jenny’s hearing. ‘Um, because I like Flick in a different way. I like kissing Flick.’
‘Would you like kissing Eve too?’
‘Eve is married. But you don’t kiss everyone just because you like them.’ How do I get out of this now? He could see this discussion would never end unless he found a definitive answer.
‘Do you like Flick more than Eve? I like Flick best.’
‘I like Flick in a different way to how I like Eve, or Christophe, or Mum. Or even you.’
‘But you kiss my cheek.’
‘That’s the kiss for a friend or family member.’
‘You kissed Flick on the mouth.’
‘I like kissing Flick on the mouth. It’s different, but it’s not a kiss you give to anyone unless they are really important to you.’ The sense of uttering a truth flitted through his mind. Flick was important to him. As pleasurable as the feel of winter sun on his skin, or a long, cold drink on a hot summer’s day. He needed her, needed to kiss her … Every day.
Jenny ploughed on. Unless he could distract her, she would keep on until she got an answer that satisfied her, and Xander didn’t have one.
‘Flick’s important to you, but you’re not getting married to her? How come?’
‘I like Flick in the way that for some people might—and that’s a big might—lead to marriage when they know one another really well. But we don’t know one another very well yet. Does that answer your question?’
‘So you might marry Flick one day?’
Xander huffed out a quickly cut-off sigh. ‘It’s possible. But I won’t know until I’ve kissed her lots of times. Now, you asked for chips. Since this is your last full day here, let’s have a treat.’
‘Thank you, Xander.’ She sat with her hands in her lap while he ordered a bowl to share and two hamburgers from the pool bar. ‘And Xander?’
He looked into his sister’s eyes, surprised to see she looked happy in spite of being told he wasn’t about to marry Flick. The power of ‘might’, he thought. Such a useful word.
‘Can I be a bridesmaid when you decide you’re going to marry Flick?’
***
Flick glanced up at the clock. Another hour until her extended shift ended. The whimsy of the clock—a chef crying over chopped onions that Christophe had installed in the kitchen just for fun—made her smile, even as her neck muscles tightened. She tipped her head back and rolled her head from side to side.
‘Okay, Flick? Thanks for staying to cover for Jake.’
‘No problem. I hope Jake hasn’t got that summer flu I read about.’
‘Me too. We’re coming into the busiest time of year, not the best time to be a staff member down.’
She gave the sauce a final stir and raised the spoon, examining the viscosity. ‘Does this taste right to you?’
Christophe picked up a spoon and dipped it into the pan. He tasted the sauce and reached for a shaker of lemon thyme. ‘Just a dash et voilà!’ He stirred the sauce and handed her a clean spoon. ‘Try it. See what I mean? A dash of the right herb lifts any dish.’
She held one hand beneath the spoon and sipped, closing her eyes to concentrate on the subtle flavour. ‘You’re right. It has a similar depth of flavour to my lavender cream—’
Eyes opening, she found herself staring into Xander’s. A flicker of annoyance buzzed through her. They had agreed he wouldn’t turn up at the kitchen to meet her, to avoid any hint of a relationship. She’d even texted him to say she was staying on to cover for a sick colleague, so he knew to expect her late for Jenny’s final dinner.
Something was off. His body was tense and a permanent frown seemed to have indented itself on his forehead. And his eyes … they were dark and some emotion had scrunched the corners until tight lines radiated from them.
Her throat constricted. The only thing she could imagine causing him to look like this was … ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Have you seen Jenny since lunch?’
She shook her head, glanced at Christophe and back to Xander. ‘No. She hasn’t been in here all day. We weren’t expecting her yet. Didn’t you have that cruise on the catamaran?’
‘Yes, and we had lunch and a swim at the pool and then went to the apartment so she could pack her suitcase. She said she wanted to do it by herself so I let her.’
Christophe gripped his shoulder. ‘Did you leave the apartment at any time?’
‘No. I never leave her alone. I took a couple of calls out on the balcony, but—’ His eyes widened. ‘One was business, but the other was with my mother. I told her about Jenny’s week and her activities, including cooking with you. I hoped maybe she’d slipped down here early to visit you.’
‘I’m sorry, Xander. If she’d shown up here without you, I’d have called you.’
‘I’m at my wit’s end where to look. I’ve got to go look for her.’
Breath tightening in her chest, Flick took a step towards him, but Christophe caught her shoulder. ‘There will be plenty of staff to help him look. They will find her happily playing with a puppy or something similar.’
She pressed her lips together and sucked in a deep breath. ‘Of course they will. Jenny wouldn’t go far, but she does get distracted by animals … and pretty yellow things.’ She turned back to her sauce and set it on the warmer. If she hadn’t been so worried about Jenny going missing, she’d have enjoyed learning more about the Australian ingredients in this part of Christophe’s local-themed menu, but her mind buzzed with possibilities.
From what she’d learned over the past week, Jenny could be single-minded and stubborn, but she was caring and—.
A nebulous thought, swirling since Xander had mentioned telling his mother about Jenny’s activities, crystallised into an image of Jenny at the lookout, cradling the baby wombat.
She gripped the edge of the workbench.
Was that where Jenny had gone?
Turning off the gas, she hurried to where Christophe was cooking a kangaroo steak. ‘I’ve got to call Xander right away. Give me five minutes.’
Christophe’s gaze narrowed before he nodded. ‘You’ve thought of something? Go, ring him.’
She bolted through the doors to the back dock, quiet at this time of day, and fumbled for her phone. It rang and rang, and she clenched her hand tightly around it, willing Xander to pick up.
‘Have you found her?’ His voice was tight, rough with emotion held on the tightest of leashes; it grated over her taut nerves.
‘No, sorry, but I just thought … you were telling your mother about Jenny’s week. We went riding. Yesterday we rode up to the lookout—the wombat—remember? She wanted to take it home. Is it possible she might try to find the baby wombat?’
‘Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m on my way.’ The call ended abruptly, and Flick’s heart thudded so hard, she leaned on the wall as a wave of dizziness crashed through her.
What if she was wrong? What if she’d sent Xander on a wild goose chase?