Caught Bread Handed (24 page)

“It's perfect.”

Mom bunched the chocolate noodles together onto four small plates. Carlos drizzled the sauce over the noodles and sprinkled shaved white chocolate over the top. The plates looked like pasta. I might have been fooled except for the fact that everything smelled like chocolate. Not a bad way to spend a Monday afternoon, I thought to myself.

Andy had left for class too. Mom called Sterling over as our other taste tester and handed each of us plate. “Honest answers only,” she said, rolling a chocolate noodle around her fork. “Dig in.”

We all tasted our noodles in silence. The texture of the crepes paired with the sweet and saltiness of the chocolate sauce was drool-worthy. I took another bite and let the flavors mingle on my tongue. It was a unique and innovative dessert. I was sold. We had to sample this at the Chocolate Fest and add it to our specialty rotation at Torte.

“What do you think?” Mom asked. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Sterling answered first. He was the only one who didn't have a mouthful of chocolate noodles. “It's awesome. I could eat this for dinner or breakfast.” He pointed to his plate, which was almost empty.

Carlos agreed. “It is not too sweet and has a good texture, but I do think it needs some toppings as you say, Helen. Some crunch and chewiness,
sí
?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” I said. I walked over to the cupboard and pulled down a glass canister of walnuts. I chopped them and a handful of dried cherries. “Anyone want to add these?”

Everyone held out their plates. I sprinkled the nuts and dried cherries on the pasta and we all tasted again.

“Yes, this is it,” Mom said. “Much better.”

“I agree. It's amazing. Nice work, team.” I added some more nuts to my pasta and took a bite.

“They will be a hit,
sí.
” Carlos finished his noodles.

“We're rolling on this project. Marzipans, chocolate pasta, what's next?”

Mom laughed. “Can't we enjoy this for a minute longer before you make us work again? She's such a task master.”

Carlos and Mom shared a look. “
Sí,
you should see her on the ship. The sous chefs and line cooks they see her coming and they run and hide. She is terrifying.”

“Knock it off, you two. I'm the nicest chef I know. Can I get a little help here, Sterling?”

Sterling took the dishes to the sink and tugged on the strings of his hoodie. “My shift is over. I'm getting out of here before it's too late. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” I pleaded. “I need moral support. You're my only hope.”

“See ya.” Sterling waved and ran for the door. Carlos followed after him. I watched as Carlos embraced Sterling and then whispered something in his ear. Sterling nodded twice and gave him a half hug.

“Good help is so hard to find,” I joked to Mom. Internally, my throat tightened. I knew that Carlos was saying good-bye to Sterling. The fact that he was leaving tomorrow was starting to sink in.

Mom swatted me on the hip. “Tell me about it.” She opened the sketchbook and made a note to include toppings and added cherries, nuts, and granola to our growing supply list.

“This is going to be an expensive endeavor, isn't it?” I asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“Yes, but I heard from a very wise pastry chef that we need to spend money to make money, right?”

“Right.”

“Do you want to get started on a new chocolate offering for the Fest or should we call it a day?” Mom pointed to the clock. “It's almost closing time.”

“Yeah. Let's call it a day. Knowing that we have two tastings nailed down is good, and we still have plenty of time to prepare. We're ahead of our game at the moment.”

“Good.” Mom untied her apron. “Because I have a date, and you two need to get out of here too.”

“Why?”

Mom and Carlos exchanged another look. What was going on between them? Mom looked like she was about to say something. Carlos stepped forward and placed his hand on my shoulder. “I have a surprise for you,
mi querida.
You go home and take a shower and put on something nice. I will clean up here and meet you soon.”

“Are you in on this, Mom?” I asked.

She winked at Carlos. “Me? I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Does this have anything to do with your hush-hush meeting in the office earlier?”

“I told you,” Carlos said to Mom. “She cannot enjoy a surprise. She must know everything.”

“It's true.” Mom gave him a consoling pat as she slipped behind him and began rinsing the plates in the sink. “I blame myself.”

He stopped her. “No, no, Helen you must go too. I will clean. You have done enough.”

Mom protested, but Carlos wouldn't hear it. He shooed both of us out of the kitchen. Once Carlos has his mind set on something there's no stopping him. It's a quality we share. I linked my arm through Mom's. “We might as well go pamper ourselves. There's no way he's letting us back in the kitchen now.”

“A chef doing dishes. That is love. Come to think of it, I like the sound of pampering. Maybe I'll go home and take a nice hot bath before dinner with Doug.”

“Good idea, Mom.” I switched the sign on the front door to
CLOSED
and called to Carlos. “Do you want me to lock the door?”

“No, it is fine.”

Mom gasped and stopped. “Oh, no, I just realized that I won't see him again before he leaves!” She unlinked her arm from mine and ran to the kitchen. I watched her embrace Carlos in a long hug. Tears welled in my eyes as she thanked him for his help this last week and told him to call when he was on the ship. Carlos returned her hug and kissed her on the cheeks. “Thank you,
gracias,
Helen, I will see you again soon.”

Something had changed between them. When I'd brought Carlos home for brief visits in the past, I got the sense that they were both holding back. So much so that I had wondered if Mom thought I had made a mistake in marrying Carlos. They hadn't met yet, when Carlos and I tied the knot one spontaneous weekend in France. Mom was my biggest supporter and I knew she wouldn't say anything unless I asked her directly. I never asked. I was too worried that she'd tell me she didn't like Carlos.

It was clear to me in that moment that she liked Carlos—that she loved Carlos and that he felt the same about her too. It should have made me feel better, but watching them in a tender good-bye made my heart ache even more.

 

Chapter Twenty-six

A long bath sounded luxurious but I would have to settle for a hot shower. That was nothing new. I couldn't remember the last time I took a bath. We didn't have a tub in our cabin on the ship. We were lucky to have our own room. Most of the crew slept in bunk rooms with communal bathrooms. Life “down below” as we used to call it is a completely separate world from the swanky lounges, art galleries, and shops that passengers experience on board the ship. Rank mattered on the ship. Most cruise lines have a structured hierarchy. Higher-ranking crew members have access to the upper decks during their time off. They can grab a drink in one of the bars or sunbathe by the pool. Lower-ranking crew members, like the cleaning staff, aren't awarded the same privilege.

The same was true for living quarters. As head chef, Carlos was considered an officer, which meant that his cabin was on the upper deck of the ship. We might not have had a bathtub, but we had a window and after months at sea a window was much more luxurious and necessary for saving one's sanity.

I wondered what Carlos was planning. It had been a long time since we'd gone on a date. I felt like a teenager as I blew my hair dry. Typically, I wear my hair tied back in a ponytail. It's a quick and easy style when I have to get up before the sun and it keeps my hair out of my face while I'm baking. Tonight I decided to wear it down. After it was dry I used a straight iron to create soft curls. I took my time applying mauve eyeshadow that brought out the green in my eyes, blush, and lip gloss. I studied myself in the mirror and was pleased with the results. My hair looked wavy and sexy. I added a pair of dangling silver earrings and matching necklace, and then went to find something to wear in my meager closet.

My wardrobe was pretty basic. Standard attire at the bakeshop is jeans and a T-shirt. There wasn't much need for cocktail dresses on the ship either. I had a few dresses that I saved for special occasions like staff parties and going out when we were at port. Carlos had seen me in all of them. I wanted to wear something new for him tonight. Fortunately, Mom had forced me to go shopping for winter clothes back in November. Not that it mattered. Most of the sweaters, tights, and the pair of boots I had purchased were still hanging with their tags in my closet. Winter had been so mild I hadn't had a chance to wear most of it.

When I spotted a simple black dress on a sale rack that hit just above the knee and had halter straps and a fitted waist, I fell in love with it instantly. It was exactly my size and extremely flattering. Even though I had no use for it I bought it anyway. Now I was very thankful that I had splurged.

I found it in the back of my closet and slipped it over my head. The fit was perfect. It clung to my hips and accentuated my chest. There was a thin layer of black taffeta under the skirt which gave it a slight swing when I walked. The dress made me feel feminine. I had a feeling that Carlos would like it. I finished the outfit with a pair of black flats and an ivory cashmere wrap.

The doorbell rang as I checked my appearance one last time. My stomach flopped. You're being silly, Jules, I told myself. This is your husband you're going out with.

Carlos stood on the landing holding a bouquet of fragrant white lilies. He oozed with sexiness. He wore a pair of tailored black pants, a crisp white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, and a black sport jacket.

My breath caught.

“Julieta, you are so beautiful.” He handed me the lilies and kissed my hand.

“You look great too, Carlos.” My heart rate sped up. “Come in.”

The scent of his aftershave blended with the floral scent of the lilies. I breathed it in. “Let me put these in some water. Then I'm ready to go,” I said, walking to the kitchen to find a vase.

Carlos followed after me. “You do not need to hurry,
mi querida
. We have time.”

We didn't have time, though. Tomorrow he would be gone and half a world away from me. My hands shook as I reached for a vase. Why did he have to leave? I filled the vase with water and stuck the lilies in it.

A knock sounded on the front door. Who could that be? I rarely got visitors to my tiny apartment. Carlos looked at me as I set the lilies on the counter.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No.” I walked to answer the door. “Just you.”

I opened the door to find Thomas. He held his iPad in one hand and a winter bouquet of roses in his other. “Whoa, you look nice, Jules. Hot date or something?”

“Something.”

“These are from my mom.” He handed me the flowers. “She said to tell you thanks for the bread. She loved it.”

“That's sweet of her.” I took the flowers. Carlos had come up behind me. I could feel his breath on my neck and sensed that he was tense without having to turn around.

Thomas backed up when he noticed Carlos. “Oh, hey. I didn't know you were here.”

Carlos stepped forward and put his arm around my shoulder. “Julieta and I are going to dinner.”

“I won't keep you. I told Mom I would swing the flowers by and I was going to see if you had a minute to go over a few things on the case. We're watching a couple things across the street.” He stopped and stared at me for a minute and then continued. “Never mind. It can wait. Have fun.” He turned and jogged down the stairs before I could stop him.

The last thing I wanted was to be in the middle of the tension between Carlos and Thomas, but part of me wanted to run after him. What news did he have about the case? And by across the street did he mean at the Merry Windsor?

I stopped myself. I knew what I was doing. Mindy's murder had been a convenient distraction from keeping focused on the real problem I was facing. Tonight was my last night with my husband until who knows when. Stop sabotaging yourself and let the case go, I said internally. Tonight was about Carlos and me.

“Are you ready?” Carlos asked, holding the door open.

“Do I need anything?”

“Maybe you should bring a coat.”

I grabbed my coat and took Carlos's extended hand. We walked down the stairs hand in hand.

The evening air was crisp and the sun had already begun to sink in the sky. We walked past a few shops to a black sedan parked on the street. Carlos beeped a remote and the locks popped open.

“Whose car is this?” I asked.

“It belongs to a friend. He let me borrow it.” He opened the passenger door for me and helped me in.

Who did Carlos already know in Ashland who would let him borrow their car? I shook my head and buckled my seat belt. Of course Carlos would find a way to borrow a car. I wondered if whoever he had borrowed it from knew that Carlos had a need for speed.

The first time I drove with Carlos was when we were docked in Rome. He rented a convertible and took me outside of the city. I remember clutching the armrest and screaming as Carlos whipped the steering wheel and weaved through the crowded streets of Rome. It was like being on a roller coaster. He shifted gears and flew down alleyways where tourists were drinking Italian wine and eating gelato. I was sure that we were going to run someone over or take out a bistro table. But Carlos was an excellent driver. He laughed each time I let out a gasp of relief when we cleared a bicyclist by an inch or screeched around a corner.

Once we had escaped the throng of people downtown, Carlos hit the gas. We sped through hillsides and twisting roadways like real Italians. “Do not worry, Julieta, this is how we drive in Europe.”