by Tikiri
“Does anyone have the key?” I called out from the back.
A chorus of “no’s” came from the stairway.
“Maybe it locks automatically when you close it,” Katy said.
“No,” Tetyana said. “Remember, I opened it from the cellar side, when I came up to get the list?”
Luc was banging on the door. “Oi! Anyone there? Open up! Ovrez la porte vite!”
Nothing.
“Are we stuck?” I heard Win’s panicked voice.
“No,” Tetyana said. “There’s the door to the main kitchen. We can try that.”
I turned around and climbed down. While I looked for a safe place to put down my bottle of Cognac, Tetyana had already walked over to the main door and yanked at the doorknob. She fell back.
“Locked too?” Katy asked. She walked up and tried the door as well, but it didn’t move.
“Let me try,” Luc said. He put the supplies he was carrying on a nearby shelf, rolled up his sleeves and pulled on the handle with all his might. Nothing. No amount of pushing, pulling, jiggling or banging worked.
“He’s locked us in,” I said. “He’s actually locked us in.”
“Monsieur Wilmar?” Katy asked.
I nodded. “Probably laughing at us right behind that door.”
“Bastard,” Tetyana said.
“I told you, these people are mad,” Luc said. “C’est des conneries!”
I had to agree. This was bull.
“Are we going to be stuck here forever?” Win asked, her face slightly pale.
“We’ll find a way out,” I said, not feeling as confident as my words. “Don’t worry.”
“Won’t die of starvation, that’s for sure,” Luc said wryly.
Win looked like she was about to hyperventilate.
“Come here, Win,” Katy said, holding an arm out. “It’s a huge cave with lots of tunnels below. There’s plenty of air for us. Breathe now. That’s it.”
While I was trying to think of what to do, I caught a glint of steel from the corner of my eye. I turned to see Tetyana pointing her gun at the lock.
“What are you doing?” I asked, shocked.
“Unlocking the damn door,” she said, in that quiet voice she used whenever she was about to do something dangerous.
“We can’t go around shooting at things!”
“I don’t plan to stay stuck here.”
“What if they call the police? How are you going to even have a chat about immigration with the Dragon Lady?”
Tetyana slowly lowered her weapon. “So we wait till they return to replenish their royal supplies?”
“Guys!” Luc called out. He was fiddling near those port barrels again. “There’s another way out.”
“What other way?” I said.
“Back down. Remember that door to the parking lot?”
“Maybe that’s locked too,” Katy said.
“Nope, I tried it. There’s a dried crust around the frame. We have to scrape it all off. I only managed to open it an inch.”
We looked at each other.
“If we all work together, we can get it open fully,” he added.
Tetyana tucked her gun inside her jacket and said, “Well, not much of a choice, is there?”
“Worst-case scenario, you can shoot that door down,” I said. “It’ll be less of a scene there, than inside the building.”
“You’re worried about making a scene?” Tetyana said, her mouth curling into that old sneer of hers. “What about the idiots who friggin’ locked us in? I’d like to make a scene on them.”
“We have to use diplomacy, not violence here,” I said, in a placating voice. “I’m trying to get someone important here to help us.”
Ignoring me, she marched toward the port barrel shelf door, which Luc was now holding open for us.
Our trip down took longer than the first time, because we were laden with supplies. Tetyana was in a bad mood, Win was on the verge of a panic attack, Luc’s torch was blinking on a low battery and I was trying to keep my claustrophobic fears from flaring up again.
It was a relief to get to the final chamber with the crusty door to the parking lot. Luc was correct. The door hadn’t been used in years. It took us fifteen minutes to open it fully, and get ourselves and our supplies outside. We stumbled out of the cave at the edge of the castle’s parking lot.
Our van was exactly where we’d left it. No one else was around and all the delivery trucks had left. We walked toward the castle’s back door, which thankfully, still remained wide open.
I stopped before we walked in. “We’re going to walk in there with our heads held high. We will be graceful.” I glanced over at Tetyana. “That will be the best revenge.”
She muttered something under her breath. I turned and walked in the door.
It was Monsieur Wilmar who saw us first. He was standing in front of the main counter when we walked in. His eyes widened as he saw us. I gave him a quick nod and a noncommittal smile, and kept walking. The entire kitchen had fallen silent. No one in my group said a word either.
We strode through the kitchen hall, heads held high, carrying our bins, bags and trays of supplies toward the kitchenette. Someone had locked this door too. From the outside. I unlocked it, took the key out and pocketed it. Everyone trooped in after me. Tetyana came in last, and made a point of slamming the door behind her.
“Phew!” I said, putting my collection of baking soda and chocolate containers on the kitchen counter.
I looked at my team. “Wanna help me bake cakes?” I asked cheerfully. No one smiled.
Win had found a stack of white aprons in a drawer when she’d been rummaging for supplies. I took one and tied it around me. Win and Katy followed suit, and to my surprise, so did Luc. Win discovered a chef’s hat at the bottom of the pile and plonked it in front of me. I put it on and got to work.
It took us most of an hour to mix the batter, bake the cakes, and decorate them using whatever I could find in the fridge. Luc seemed to have forgotten his skepticism and joined the others in his sous chef duties, working intently as he swirled chocolate icing on top of the mini-cakes, egging others to a competition of who could ice the fastest. He took to his tasks so naturally that I thought, If I ever have a bakery one day, I’m hiring him.
Tetyana joined in as well, swearing every now and then when something collapsed without warning. “I’m a fighter, not a baker,” she snapped at one point, looking angrily at an icing glob that had fallen on the floor.
By the time we were done, my team looked like legitimate kitchen help, with icing sugar smeared on their aprons and their faces. On the flour-stained countertop now sat a plate of fifty black forest chocolate mini-cakes made from my mother’s favorite recipe, plus that one outrageously exorbitant ingredient. I looked at the clock. Three twenty-five. We were just on time.
Someone knocked on the door, and before anyone could get to it, Chloe strode in.
“Bonjour,” she said, with a curt nod.
“Bonjour,” all except Tetyana greeted her.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling like I needed to salute her or something.
“Oh!” She noticed the cakes. She stood still, staring at the display.
“This recipe was especially made for Madame Bouchard,” I said, “and for Chef Pierre,” I added.
“You know him?” Chloe looked at me, surprised.
“With my compliments,” I said, not really answering her question.
Chloe turned the platter around, inspecting the little cakes from all angles.
“May I try one?”
“With pleasure,” I said, picking one and handing it to her.
She gave me an odd look. “Do you not have plates?”
Win passed a small saucer to me from the glass cabinet. I placed the cake gently on it and handed it to Chloe.
She didn’t touch it. “And the cutlery, mademoiselle?” she said, giving Win a stern look.
F
rom the corner of my eyes, I saw Luc roll his eyes again. Win reached for the top drawer, brought out a fork and knife and placed them next to Chloe’s plate. Chloe’s mouth curled down at the corners. Katy jerked open the drawer again, searched for a matching pair and switched the pieces.
But Chloe wasn’t done. “What about a serviette?”
We stared at her.
“It’s a friggin’ cupcake,” Tetyana said, forgetting she wasn’t supposed to talk.
Chloe stared at Tetyana. She glared back, unblinking.
“Unlike in America,” Chloe said, pronouncing every syllable, her eyes firmly on Tetyana’s, we prefer not to use our fingers to eat.”
Tetyana’s face went red. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d been mistaken for an American or she’d been dismissed so contemptuously. Maybe it was both. I saw her hand go to her side, the side where she kept her gun.
“Katy!” I screamed, jumping in front of Tetyana. “Get a serviette!”
Katy slammed open one of the drawers, pulled out a crisp white serviette and threw it next to the cake saucer. Chloe stared at us, eyebrows raised, like we’d gone mad.
I smiled my best frozen smile at her. “Bon appetit, madame,” I said, with a low bow.
As we all stood and watched around the counter, Chloe daintily cut the cupcake with her gold cutlery and took a bite. She showed the most sophisticated table manners I’d ever seen, and she seemed to eat with even more ceremony than the Diplomatic Dragon Lady herself.
“Does it meet your expectations?” I asked, once she’d had a bite.
She nodded. “Bon.”
Good? Just good?
Before I could say anything, she tapped her phone once. The door opened and in walked two men.
I felt Win move close to me and clutch my hand. I squeezed hers back. With their black bow ties, red waistcoats and crisp white shirts, these men looked like a cross between palace guards and waiters in a five-star hotel. Their faces were as impassive as wax figures and their demeanor as impeccable as anyone who routinely served royalty. I watched as they glided across the floor and picked my cake trays up.
“You may take leave now.” Chloe nodded to me, and turned to the two men. “To the drawing room, please,” she said, and marched out.
The men followed her, carrying my cupcake trays high above their shoulders.
Chapter Forty-three
“Phew, I thought she was going to eat me,” Win said.
“Quelle pute pompeuse!” Luc said. “What a pompous woman.”
“What are we gonna do now?” Katy said.
“How is that going to help us get to the Dragon Diplomat?” Tetyana asked.
I whipped off my apron, threw it on the counter, and stepped toward the door.
“Hey, what you doing?” Tetyana said.
“I’m going to find out where they’re going,” I said, opening the door.
I looked out. Chloe and the two men-in-waiting were walking past the staff table toward the other end of the kitchen. I stepped out and closed the door behind me. Everyone in the main kitchen stopped their work and stared. I caught sight of Monsieur Wilmar glaring from the meat station, a fat cleaver in his hands. “Back to work!” he shouted, startling me. Everyone went back to their duties.
I started my walk across the hall, my back tingling, wondering every second if I was going to feel that cleaver between my shoulder blades. Halfway through, I heard a loud smash from behind. I turned to see Monsieur Wilmar thrash a piece of meat on the cutting board. He was hitting it so hard with his knife, I was surprised it hadn’t gone through the board and into the countertop too. For all I knew, it had. Everyone had gathered as far away from him as possible.
In those few seconds of distraction, I’d lost sight of Chloe and the two servers. They’d vanished.
Where did they go? I walked faster toward the end of the kitchen. There were two doors on the far wall. I opened the first one on the left to see a set of bare concrete steps going down. That can’t be it. Chloe had said they were going to the drawing room, upstairs. I moved to the second door, but it didn’t have a handle. I poked around, pushing here and there, until I noticed a modern panel of buttons next to the frame. I punched a button and the doors slid open. An elevator!
I looked behind me. No one was watching me anymore. The sous chefs were busy over their pots and pans. Monsieur Wilmar was inspecting something on the stove and the old men were engrossed in their card game. I stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut. Where to now? There was only one floor up. I pressed the button. The elevator whirred up obediently.
When the doors opened, I was sure I’d been transported to another world. I stood gaping, until the elevator doors started to slide on me. I slammed my hand between them and jumped out, and found myself standing in the ritziest foyer I’d ever seen.
My feet sank into the red luxurious carpet. Gold and red trimmings adorned the walls, and beautiful motifs of flowers covered every inch of the ceiling. Wrought-iron chandeliers dripped down from above, and along the walls, red candles burned in copper candelabras, bathing the room in an opulent glow. I’d never seen anything like this before in my life. I turned around and around to soak it all in.
I couldn’t linger though. I had to move on. There were three doorways from this foyer. I stood still for a minute and listened. A faint hum was coming from the doorway on the far right. I walked toward it. I could hear voices, soft voices. I stepped through, treading softly on the carpet, and came to another grand foyer with an immense doorway in front of me. Straddling this entranceway were two guardsmen dressed exactly like the two who’d come to get my cakes, moments earlier.
They saw me as soon as I stepped onto the landing. There was no place to hide and I couldn’t run now. I noticed they were looking with more curiosity than hostility. Act natural. I straightened my back, leveled my shoulders, clasped my hands behind me, and casually walked up to them. I still wore my chef’s hat and had planned to use it to my full advantage. I was about fifteen feet from them when a small side door at the end of the foyer opened, startling me. A young waiter rolled out an empty trolley.
“May we help you?”
It was one of the guards.
“I’m here to see Madame Chloe Schmidt,” I said, smiling. “She asked me to come up.”
To my surprise, he nodded and indicated the side door. I bowed and pushed the door open with shaking hands.
No one noticed me enter the room and slip into the shadows. Near the door was an alcove with a long buffet table piled with three-tier trays. These trays overflowed with lavish finger foods, sandwiches and sumptuous savories of all types. There were cucumber and salmon sandwiches, short breads and scones, biscuits of all kinds, mini cheese plates on beautiful bone china, and little white containers filled with jams and creams and butters of all sorts. Whatever else I thought of Monsieur Wilmar, he sure could put a good spread together.
Then, right in the center of the table, I saw my platter of cakes. They looked every bit as grand as the other royal dishes. I took a sharp breath in, forgetting for a moment why I was here. There was only one other full dessert on the table—a dark fruit pie of sorts, and that was sitting on the side. I stood a little straighter and held my head a little higher to see my fairy cakes so prominently displayed in the sumptuous drawing room of this Luxembourg castle. My mother would have been so proud, was all I could think of.
It took me several seconds to tear my eyes away from the buffet table and look around the room and at the people.
Set neatly across the room were about fifty tables for six, all draped in white tablecloths. Crystal chandeliers hung above each table, and beautiful flower arrangements in low vases sat in the middle of the tables. The guests were seated. It was exactly how you’d expect a castle tea party to look.
The men wore linen shirts and jackets, but it was the women who struck me the most. They wore extravagant summer dresses in all styles and colors, decorated with ruffles, cowls, feathers an
d jewels. Strands of pearls adorned their necks and feathery fascinators perched precariously on their beautifully coiffed heads. Everyone was immersed in the meal in front of them, speaking in soft tones, laughing occasionally, golden forks and knives clinking happily on the china.
Young waiters treaded quietly in between the tables, filling water glasses and pouring tea. They traveled back and forth between the buffet table and the diners, absorbed in their tasks. As long as I drew back into the alcove when they came to the buffet table, I remained hidden.
From my alcove, I had only a partial view of the guests and had to peek around the corner to scan the room in its entirety. There. There she was. Hard to miss. Tall and exquisite in her chic white Chanel pantsuit and pearl choker, the Diplomatic Dragon Lady looked as elegant as I’d remembered.
I noticed she was the only woman in the room not wearing a dress. Seeing her, I was sure now the Europeans gave slack on etiquette and protocol to North Americans, just like Chloe had tolerated our arrival in a white cargo van with no supplies. I was certain a European baker would have never got away with as much as I had. She’d expected us to be different, irreverently so.
My eyes traveled around the table to the Diplomatic Dragon Lady’s companions. I took a sharp breath in and nearly choked to see plump Chef Pierre sitting across from her. Two of my favorite people at the same place. I couldn’t believe it.
My mind raced. Maybe I can get his autograph? Ask him about his recipes? I suddenly remembered my foray into his café in Brussels, and paused to consider a frightening thought. Maybe he knows I stole a chocolate roll from his Brussels café. I shook my head. Of course he doesn’t. He’s the CEO. People steal stuff every day. It’s the store manager’s job to deal with these things. I felt something heavy in my chest. I can’t believe I did that. I’m not a thief! I shook my head to rid myself of the guilt, and took a deep breath in to steady my nerves.
I waited a full minute before peeking out again. This time, I looked for the one person I didn’t want to see. Chloe was standing against the far wall, next to a tall man with white hair. He was dressed in the same uniform as the servers, but with more buttons and trimmings on his coat. Must be the head waiter, I thought.
