by Ellery Adams
Mia turned to face the contestants. “Chefs. The time has come. You may now start preparing your Christmas Carol Feast!”
The chefs flew into action, racing to collect ingredients from the pantry and walk-in fridge. With all the cameras tracking the movements of the chefs, Mia was free to sit down and be ministered to by her assistants. Three of them surveyed her clothes, hair, and makeup while Bentley read from the notes on her clipboard. Sidling closer to the group, Jane listened to Bentley review the upcoming sequence of events. She kept glancing from her clipboard to Mia’s face, clearly hoping for a response, but Mia didn’t seem to be paying attention.
And then, the cameras focused on the short hallway leading from the kitchen to the break room. Levi and Coco strolled into the kitchen, looking nothing like they had in the Rudyard Kipling Café.
“No way!” cried Chef Saffron as she took in the judges’ Victorian garb. Levi wore a formal suit, complete with waistcoat and top hat. Coco was resplendent in a green silk gown trimmed with lace.
Stopping in front of Chef August’s station, Levi said, “Tell me about your feast.”
“My feast is a Southern Christmas. It’s my mama’s food influenced by Charles Dickens. I’m making spinach with apples and walnuts, fried oysters, Cajun baked chicken, hash brown soufflé, and a cranberry-orange sponge cake with Grand Marnier glaze.”
“We can’t wait to try the finished products. Carry on, good sir.” Coco curtsied before moving to Chef Lindsay’s station.
Chef Lindsay’s angular face was already pink with exertion. She gave the judges a tight smile and answered their question before they had the chance to ask it. “I’m going to lighten up the traditional Dickensian feast by giving it an infusion of California freshness. Root veggie mince pie, potato stacks with garlic and thyme, tenderloin with wine and chestnuts, herb pudding, and a lemon and cardamom Twelfth Night cake.”
Chef Lindsay picked up her knife and was poised to continue chopping potatoes, but Levi wasn’t going to let her return to work just yet. “How concerned are you about time?”
“I’m very concerned,” said Chef Lindsay. “But I’m also grateful that Chef Alondra is here to help me create the most important meal of my life.”
Satisfied, the judges wished her luck and continued on to Chef Michel’s station.
“Your outfits are très magnifique.” Chef Michel brushed off his white jacket. “If I had known the occasion was this formal, I would have worn my black coat.”
Coco laughed. “We’ll be too focused on your food to notice what you’re wearing. So tell us. Will your dishes feature French cuisine?”
Chef Michel smiled. “My feast will take you on a trip around the world. French food is spectacular, bien sûr, but when you combine the foods and flavors from other cultures—that’s when a dish is transformed from delicious to unforgettable.”
Levi rubbed his palms together. “An international feast. Good thing I have my passport. Tell us about your dishes.”
“Tonight we’re making spicy Thai grilled oysters with bird’s eye chilis served with a side of Asian pear slaw, pan-seared foie gras, lamb and spinach Wellington, and onion bhaji Yorkshire pudding. For dessert, we have African chocolate pudding with chestnut whipped cream. That one’s for my sister, Kisi, whom I carry here.”
Chef Michel laid his palm over his heart, and Mrs. Hubbard dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron. Jane glanced over at Bentley. The young woman was holding her clipboard against her chest and staring fixedly at Mia. She looked nervous, as if she didn’t know what Mia would do next.
But Mia wasn’t doing anything. She was frozen in grief. The furrows on her forehead, her downturned mouth, and her wet eyes marked a pain that was too powerful to be sympathy. Chef Michel’s remark about his sister had triggered something in Mia. To Jane, that something looked like loss.
And then, Dylan handed Mia a wad of tissues. She wiped her cheeks, blew her nose, and quickly rearranged her expression. She gave her assistant a self-deprecating smile as he bent to repair her makeup.
Across the room, the judges wished Chef Michel well and let him get on with his work.
For the next hour, Mia and the two judges took turns checking in with the chefs. Jane was so riveted by the displays of culinary prowess that she had to remind herself to keep an eye on Bentley.
The anxiety Bentley had exhibited after Chef Michel’s short speech was gone. She’d relaxed her death grip on her clipboard and seemed more interested in exchanging whispered comments with her coworkers than watching the action in the kitchen.
When the countdown clock read thirty minutes, Jane stepped out of the room to call Edwin.
“We’re down to the last half hour,” she told him.
“Ned’s here,” Edwin said, referring to the bellhop who often watched the twins. “The boys started Jumanji after dinner, so Ned can just turn off the TV when it’s done and send the boys to bed. Has anything unusual happened?”
Jane hesitated. “Nothing specific, but I’m getting a something wicked this way comes vibe. From where, I don’t know.”
“Your disadvantage is that you don’t know what’s coming,” Edwin said. “But my love, your advantage is that you’re surrounded by people who are looking, listening, and waiting to leap to your defense. Including me. See you in five minutes.”
Next, Jane read all the recent texts from the Fins. All was quiet in Storyton Hall. There’d been no surprise visitors and no guests wandered the grounds. A few members of the audience had left the theater to use the restroom, but most stayed in their seats, snacking on nuts, popcorn, fruit, cheese, and candy.
The Cover Girls reported that they were having a grand time and all was as it should be in the theater.
Satisfied, Jane returned to the hallway to find Mia’s assistants helping her into a beautiful Victorian taffeta gown. The garnet hue highlighted Mia’s creamy skin and dark hair, and the hoop skirt and lightly boned blouse accentuated Mia’s narrow waist and slim frame.
Jane said, “You’re a vision in scarlet.”
“Thanks.” Mia ran her hands over the soft folds covering her hips. “The cousin I told you about? The one who helped me sell my food when we were kids? He was born on a Sunday. In Thailand, that’s a day for wearing red.”
“Seven minutes,” Bentley said, glancing from Jane to Mia. Bentley looked nervous again, and Jane noticed that Mia was turning her tiger eye ring around and around, just as she had the evening she showed up unannounced at Jane’s house.
Mia gave Jane an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but I have to stand still and be quiet or they won’t finish my hair and makeup in time.”
Having been politely dismissed, Jane returned to the steamy, motion-filled kitchen.
“How can they pull this off? They’re down to the last few minutes,” Eloise whispered to Jane. “Oh, Edwin’s here. I didn’t see him come in.”
Jane spotted her man standing next to Lachlan on the far side of the room. He looked devilishly handsome in a light blue dress shirt and camel slacks. Mia’s assistants were openly admiring him, as were several members of the film crew.
Edwin smiled at Jane, and the warmth of his smile made her light up like a star. The show’s final minute was ticking down, and her body hummed with adrenaline. She was ready to spring into action. But first, a winner had to be declared.
Levi and Coco were no longer in the kitchen. They’d returned to the Rudyard Kipling Café to taste the chefs’ savory dishes. The three feasts were laid out on separate tables, with space reserved for the desserts.
As soon as Mia called, “Time!” the desserts were carried off to the café.
Mia entered the frame as the chefs were exchanging hugs and high-fives.
“This has to be the friendliest competition I’ve ever seen,” Jane whispered to Eloise.
After briefly asking the chefs about the highs and lows of the final challenge, Mia said, “I can’t wait to see the finished feasts! And as Charles Dickens said, ‘
The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again.’ So let’s joyfully meet with our judges!”
When the show aired, the action would pick up in the Rudyard Kipling Café without delay. In real time, the film crew relocated to the café while the chefs drank water, used the restroom, and washed the sweat from their faces. After changing into clean white coats, they hurried to the café and took up their places behind their feast table.
Butterworth escorted Fox Watterson to his seat of honor at the judges’ table and a member of the film crew called for silence on the set.
Ty yelled, “Action!” and the cameras started rolling. Jane wasn’t listening when Mia introduced Fox Watterson or thanked Cook’s Pride. Jane’s focus was on locating Bentley.
Moving on cat feet, Jane edged around lighting and stepped over extension cords. She saw three of Mia’s assistants leaning on the bar, but Bentley wasn’t with them.
She wasn’t anywhere.
Jane went cold with dread. Had the killer just escaped? Or was she somewhere inside Storyton Hall, preparing to execute a finale of her own?
When her phone vibrated in her pocket, Jane grabbed for it with trembling hands. She read the text from Lachlan and went limp with relief.
We have her in the break room.
Suddenly, Edwin was at Jane’s side. He slid an arm around her waist, leaned in close, and whispered, “Are you okay?”
She turned and threw her arms around him. “The Fins have her.” She sighed into his neck. “Everything’s okay.”
Chapter 19
As much as Jane wanted to join Lachlan, she couldn’t leave the café just yet. Olivia had talked Chef Michel into throwing away a potential victory, but with Bentley out of the picture, his sacrifice was no longer necessary. Jane knew that she had to convey that message to him.
After whispering her intentions to Edwin, Jane crept closer to the three tables where the chefs waited for the judges’ verdict.
Levi and Coco got to their feet and moved to the front of their table. With Fox trailing along, they walked over to Chef Lindsay’s table.
“Chef Lindsay, you put a fresh twist on your Christmas Carol Feast,” Coco said. She held the golden ladle, which Chef Lindsay stared at with unconcealed desire. “We loved your creativity. We also admire the way you incorporate local and seasonal ingredients into your dishes. Unfortunately, the tenderloin was overcooked, and there was too much cardamom in the cake. You’re an amazing chef, but I’m sorry to say that your feast didn’t win the golden ladle.”
Chef Lindsay’s voice wavered, but she still managed to thank the judges, Mia, and Cook’s Pride. As soon as the cameras stopped pointing at her, Chef Lindsay began to weep. Chef Alondra rushed to her colleague’s side to comfort her.
A few feet away, Fox and the judges stood between Chef August’s and Chef Michel’s tables.
“This is it.” Mia shook her fist in excitement. “One of these gentlemen is about to become this season’s Posh Chef. Coco and Levi, was it a tough decision?”
“Incredibly tough,” said Levi. “Chefs, we were impressed by many of your dishes. Chef August, your Cajun chicken was perfectly tender and packed with flavor.”
“And I wanted to lick the Grand Marnier glaze right off my plate. If I need to make a fruitcake in the future, I want to use your recipe.”
Chef August spread his hands in a gesture of giving. “It’s yours.”
Coco turned to Chef Michel. “When you told us what you planned to cook, I was a little worried. You were using flavor combinations that I didn’t think would work. Lamb Wellington and an Indian-inspired Yorkshire Pudding? I never tried anything like that, but you transformed that dish from delicious to unforgettable.”
Levi pointed at a platter on the table. “To me, those Thai grilled oysters were the star of the show. The heat from the chilis was offset by the pear slaw, and there were so many layers of flavor in that dish. Mia tried it too, and it was so good that it made her cry.”
The camera panned to Mia and she gave Levi a sheepish smile.
“If Coco wanted to drink Chef August’s Grand Marnier glaze with a straw, then I wanted to take your chocolate cake back to my room and eat the whole thing in private,” Levi continued. “I’m not a dessert guy, but that cake was fantastically rich and light as air at the same time.”
Chef Michel dipped his chin. “Thank you. I’m honored.”
By this point, Jane had moved into Chef Michel’s line of vision. She waved, hoping he’d notice her, but his eyes were locked on the judges.
“As close as you both came to culinary perfection, there were a few flaws,” said Coco. “Chef August, your spinach with apples and walnuts lacked a wow factor.”
“And while Coco loved your hash brown soufflé, I wanted more crunch.”
Coco looked at Chef Michel. “Levi and I weren’t on the same page when it came to your foie gras. He was a fan, but I thought it ate heavy.”
Chef Michel bowed in apology. When he straightened, Jane raised her right arm and waved. Again, she failed to get his attention.
“I’m glad I’m just the host!” Mia laughed. After miming wiping sweat from her forehead, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Levi. Coco. It’s obvious that you had a difficult choice to make, but the time has come. Please tell us the name of the winning chef.”
Jane’s adrenaline turned to panic, and she waved both arms, crossing them over her head as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. When Chef Michel finally looked at her, she shook her head and mouthed, “Don’t do it.”
She couldn’t tell if he understood. The lights were shining in his eyes, and he was seconds away from learning if he’d earned the victory he’d worked so hard to achieve.
Levi and Coco took a step back, and Fox Watterson moved into the camera frame.
Accepting the golden ladle from Coco, Fox grinned and said, “Before I announce the winner of Posh Palate with Mia Mallett, I’d like to introduce everyone to the woman who runs this incredible resort. Ms. Jane Steward, please join us.”
The request caught Jane by surprise. She didn’t want to be filmed. She didn’t want to be on the show—not even for a minute. But since joining Fox meant she’d also be close to Chef Michel, Jane stepped into the spotlight.
“Thank you for hosting our talented chefs, Ms. Steward, and for the hospitality we’ve been shown by everyone at Storyton Hall.” Fox smiled at Jane as if she was his favorite person on earth. “And now, Cook’s Pride would like to congratulate Chef Michel of Oyster Bay, North Carolina. You are our Posh Chef.”
Color rushed into Chef Michel’s face, and he smiled so widely that the people on the far side of the room could see his dimples.
As the café erupted in whistles, cheers, and applause, Jane turned to Chef Michel as if she were congratulating him and said, “We don’t need the teatime plan anymore—this is your win and you should accept it.”
Chef Michel nodded just as Chef August enfolded him in a bear hug. The two men embraced, rocking side to side and showering compliments on each other.
Jane heard someone say, “I love their bromance!”
When they finally separated, the men used their coat sleeves to wipe away tears.
“Chef Michel, I believe this is yours.” Fox held out the golden ladle.
Chef Michel stared at the trophy with longing but made no move to take it. Instead, he dropped his hands to his side and said, “I want to thank the judges for this incredible honor. I’ve worked in many kitchens, but I’ve never met a group of chefs who cook with as much heart as the ones I’ve met on this show. Chefs, it has been a privilege to share a kitchen with you.”
Fox shot Mia a puzzled glance, but her gaze was locked on Chef Michel.
And why wouldn’t it be? Jane thought. This is drama. This is great TV.
Still, it seemed like Chef Michel was going ahead with the plan, even though it was no longer necessary. If so, he was about to throw away a cookbook deal, a boatload of mone
y, and his reputation.
Jane didn’t realize that she’d been shaking her head until Chef Michel winked at her.
As he turned back to Fox, his smile vanished. “Mr. Watterson, my adopted sister is called Kisi. She was born in Ghana. Her parents sent her away because they didn’t want her working ten-hour days on a cocoa farm. They died when she was seven. She’s a woman now—a woman who gives all she has trying to protect the rights of these children. Until the world’s largest food companies, Cook’s Pride included, join in this effort, I cannot accept this prize. I will step aside so that you can present it to Chef August.”
Fox was dumbfounded. For a moment he just stood there, gawking. He looked from Chef Michel to the judges, but they’d been shocked into silence. With no other choice before him, Fox offered the golden ladle to Chef August.
Chef August elbowed Chef Michel. “Come on, man! What are doing? You can’t be serious.”
“I told you about Kisi. I know you understand, my friend.”
Throwing his arms up in the air, Chef August cried, “I can’t take it either! What’s happening to those kids hurts me deep in here.” He pounded his chest.
“If you don’t take that trophy, I will,” threatened Chef Lindsay.
Jane expected Mia to intervene, but her face had gone slack and there was a faraway look in her eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with mascara tracks, and she was turning her tiger’s eye ring around and around.
What made her cry? Jane wondered.
Had it been the embrace between the two male chefs? Chef Michel’s speech about his sister? The raw emotion in Chef August’s voice?
Suddenly, a thought struck Jane with the force of a fist slamming into her stomach.
Mia had nearly cried twice tonight. She’d teared up when Chef Michel mentioned his sister while describing his dishes and again, when she tasted the Thai oysters.
Oysters and cocoa farms.
Fish and chocolate.
Jane’s head spun.
