Tart of Darkness

by Denise Swanson

  While the claw-foot tub filled, Dani grabbed her MP3 player from the bedside table and Mrs. Cook’s journal, then stripped off her clothes. Sinking into the hot water, she felt her muscles relax.

  The first time Dani had met with Mrs. Cook’s lawyer, he had handed her a stack of books. There was a note rubber banded to the covers, and in beautiful copperplate handwriting, Mrs. Cook had asked Dani to read her diaries. Mrs. Cook had started journaling when she entered college, and Dani’s grandmother Kathryn was mentioned on nearly every page.

  Dani had been going through the books for the past six months and was currently reading the year in which her mother and father had gotten married. Evidently, Dani’s mother and grandmother had been at odds from the very beginning.

  Mrs. Cook had recorded a conversation she’d had with Dani’s grandmother. Apparently, Kathryn had found the perfect dress and showed it to Dani’s mom, Jenna. A week later, Jenna had called Kathryn and told her that she couldn’t wear the dress because her own mother was wearing one just like it.

  Mrs. Cook had been surprised that Kathryn didn’t argue and readily agreed to get a new gown. Mrs. Cook had asked her friend if she was returning the original dress since she wouldn’t have any other occasion to wear something that fancy, but Kathryn had laughed and said of course not, I’m wearing it to the rehearsal dinner.

  It had taken Mrs. Cook a moment to realize that the dinner was the night before the wedding, which meant Jenna’s mother would be wearing the same dress the day after Kathryn had already been seen in it.

  Putting aside the diary, Dani laid her head back and laughed. How she wished the unsinkable Kathryn Sloan was still around.

  Sometime later, Dani blinked awake. Shivering, she jumped out of the tub. The water was ice cold. How long had she been sleeping? She quickly dried off, dashed into the bedroom, and grabbed her watch from the dresser.

  Shit! She’d been in the bathtub for nearly three hours. No wonder she was chilled, not to mention her skin was as wrinkled as the used tissue paper from the bottom of a gift bag. It was a miracle she hadn’t slid below the surface and drowned.

  She could see the headline now. Chef-to-Go owner commits suicide. Details at ten. Wouldn’t that be a great way for her father to find out she was no longer gainfully employed at Homestead Insurance?

  As Dani hurried to get ready for the Karneses’ dinner party, she thought about her dad. She really needed to update him on her current situation. During her Thanksgiving visit home, she’d tried to tell him about the mansion and her idea to open her own company, but when she brought up her grandmother, he’d shut her down.

  She’d planned to explain everything at Christmas, but he’d texted her December 23 to say he was flying to China on business and would try to see her at Easter. He’d avoided spending that holiday with her as well. She wanted to give him her news face-to-face, but at this rate, she should probably just send him an email.

  Pulling on black chef pants and her signature red chef coat, Dani slid her feet into comfortable nonslip shoes and ran into the bathroom. Leaning close to the oval mirror on the wall above the vanity, she flashed a quick glance at her long, dark-blond hair, then twisted it into a high bun and used gel to make sure the sides were smooth with no threat of flyaway strands getting into the food.

  Dani glanced at the watch she’d attached to her belt loop. Five thirty. No time for makeup. Barely time to load the supplies in her van and make it to the Karneses’ before her clients started texting her.

  Fortunately, Dr. and Dr. Karnes only lived a few miles away. Dani sped through the busy side streets, then drove into an affluent neighborhood filled with large houses on lushly landscaped lots. A couple more turns and she passed through an open gate into a secluded cul-de-sac. Suddenly the homes went from upscale to lavish. Three-car garages turned into four or five. Properties doubled and tripled in size. And square footage quadrupled.

  Dani pulled into the first driveway on the right and glanced at the dashboard clock. It was six on the dot. She gathered up as much food and equipment as she could carry, followed the sidewalk to the rear of the faux castle, and rang the bell.

  Several minutes later, Chelsea Karnes, dressed in a thick terry robe and wearing a towel around her head, flung open the back door and announced, “Our guests need to catch an early fight tomorrow morning, so you’ll have to serve dinner at seven instead of seven thirty.”

  Without waiting for a response, the slender woman led Dani through a mudroom lined with shelves, cubbies, and a long bench that stretched across the entire back wall. As Dani followed her employer, she quickly reviewed the menu, hoping that she would be able to make the new deadline.

  The asparagus and parmesan puff appetizers were ready to pop in the oven. The cantaloupe, prosciutto, and arugula salad just needed a drizzle of olive oil, salt, and pepper. And she could whip up the halibut bourguignon with minted new potatoes in less than forty-five minutes.

  Dessert was the tricky part. Because the chestnut tart was best served right out of the oven, the only thing Dani had prepped for it was the side of ginger ice cream. She would need to work on it quickly while her clients were eating and pray it would be done in time.

  Entering the kitchen, Chelsea glanced over her shoulder and said, “I have to get dressed. The Bournes will be here in thirty minutes. We’ll have drinks on the patio first, but appetizers need to be on the table in less than an hour.”

  “Then I better get cracking.” Dani remained expressionless as the woman marched away, then scowled and hurried back out to the van to carry in the rest of the supplies. She needed to get a couple of carts so she could load the whole shebang onto them at once and avoid multiple trips.

  When Dani had her supplies inside, she turned on the double ovens to preheat, then stowed the perishables in the huge stainless steel refrigerator. Checking the walk-in pantry, Dani was happy to see that the Karneses had followed her request and stocked the shelves with the staples she needed.

  With the exception of the Keurig and the microwave, neither the professor nor the doctor appeared to use anything in the gourmet kitchen, and the first time Dani had cooked for them, the pantry was as bare as Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. At least now they had the basics—flour, sugar, vinegar, oil, chicken broth, rice, pasta, and some canned goods.

  Although Dani couldn’t understand how people like Chelsea and Trent Karnes could live without acquiring the basic skills necessary to feed themselves, she was grateful they did because that meant more clients for her. Shaking her head, she started making the crust for the chestnut tarte.

  Twenty minutes later, the doorbell played the first few bars of Beethoven’s fifth symphony and Dani heard Chelsea and Trent greet their guests. The first time Dani had cooked for the Karneses, Trent had just acquired his new toy and had explained to her how the programmable chime worked. Now, with each subsequent visit, she tried to guess which song would be playing. So far, she had a perfect score of zero.

  After some initial chitchat, there was the clink of ice cubes. Seconds later, the sound of the patio door opening preceded their voices fading as they stepped outside.

  Setting the timer, Dani slid the asparagus and parmesan puffs into the oven, and at precisely 6:58 p.m., she removed the baking sheet. She arranged three of the steaming appetizers on each of four small glass dishes and carried them into the dining room.

  The Karneses and their guests were just sitting down as she approached the imposing dark-maple table with its shiny chrome pedestal base. The two couples barely glanced at her as she slid their plates in front of them.

  Dani served course after course, her rubber-soled shoes silent on the travertine floors. Beyond an occasional thank-you, no one spoke to her. Feeling almost invisible, she overheard snatches of conversation and from what she could piece together, the Karneses’ guests, Anson and Honoria Bourne, were leaving for their annual ten-week cruise. Throug
hout dinner, the two couples discussed the various ports and traded travel stories.

  At eight thirty, when Dani entered the dining room with the chestnut tart, Chelsea leaned toward Honoria and said, “Of course, we would be happy to look in from time to time on Regina.” Chelsea raised an elegant brow at her husband, then continued, “Wouldn’t we, darling?”

  “Certainly.” Trent bared his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile.

  Trent Karnes was an attractive man in his midforties. He was tall and slender, with aristocratic features and a perfectly groomed beard and mustache.

  “It’s a shame she isn’t in any of your classes this session.” Honoria stirred cream into her coffee. She had the sleek, well-bred appearance of a greyhound. “If she had one of your courses, you’d see her several times a week.”

  “My baby girl loved the class she took from you last semester.” Anson’s voice was a bit loud, and Dani noticed his nose was red and the buttons on his Armani dress shirt gaped open over his paunch.

  “Yes.” Trent’s expression was frozen. “It’s too bad the timing is off.”

  “I’m sure she’ll want to take another with you.” Honoria continued to stir her coffee.

  “Well.” Trent drained his wineglass. “Regina may not have room in her schedule with all the required courses. For her, mine are electives.”

  Dani wrinkled her brow. The whole exchange sounded off in some way. Like their words had an entirely different meaning than what she was hearing. And why did the name Regina sound familiar?

  After serving the tart, Dani asked if they needed anything else. No one had any requests, so she retreated to the kitchen. While she packed her equipment, she repeated the name Regina over and over again. Finally, it came to her. Regina Bourne was the girl who had invited Ivy to join her study group. Apparently, as well as being beautiful and popular, she also had extremely wealthy parents. Was Ivy prepared to become a part of that type of crowd?

  Shrugging off her concern, Dani began to clean up the mess. An hour later, Dani was putting away the last pan when she heard the Bournes leave. She gave the counter one final wipe, then went in search of the Karneses.

  Dani found them drinking brandy in the professor’s study. She knocked on the partially opened door and said, “I hope dinner was okay.”

  “Come on in.” Trent smiled. “The food was delicious as always. Thank you for serving it earlier than we’d scheduled.”

  “Glad I could do it.” Dani entered the room, pulled her phone from her pants pocket, and held it out. “Everything is spic and span, so if you’d like to settle the bill, I’ll take off.”

  Trent reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, flipped it open, and scowled. “Hell! I forgot. My new credit cards haven’t arrived yet.”

  “Good thing I have separate charge accounts. I’ll get my purse.” Chelsea got up. “Be right back.”

  “What happened?” Dani frowned at Trent. “Did you lose your wallet?”

  “No. I was the victim of identity theft.”

  “How did you find out about it?” Dani asked.

  “My bank called because our checking account was overdrawn.” Trent sighed. “But it should have contained several thousand dollars. When we looked into it, we found the trail.”

  Before Dani could inquire further, Chelsea returned and handed over her American Express. Once the transaction was completed, Dani wished the couple good night and headed home.

  As she drove down the dark streets, she thought about the Karneses. The idea of someone stealing her identity was terrifying. Maybe she should find out how much a protection service would cost. The last thing she needed was that kind of trouble.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the week and weekend flew by, and the text from Spencer Drake on Monday caught Dani by surprise. Once again, he apologized for being unable to stop by in person to check on Ivy and the other girls. His ex-wife had finally agreed to sell their condo, so he needed to travel to Chicago and sign some papers before she changed her mind.

  Dani sent Spencer a message assuring him that Ivy, Tippi, and Starr were all behaving, wished him luck on the real estate deal, and returned to her latest project. A gardening club had asked her to provide a trio of desserts for their annual flower walk at the end of July. Today she was experimenting with a new recipe for that event, a chocolate-espresso dacquoise.

  The cake—made with layers of almond and hazelnut meringue, buttercream, and ganache—was exceedingly complicated and labor intensive, but Dani hoped that if she impressed the club members, the ladies would keep her in mind for their personal catering needs as well.

  Dani was grinding almonds, hazelnuts, cornstarch, and salt together in the food processor when the back door banged opened. She jumped back, fearing that a gang of culinary thieves was breaking in to steal her beloved Henckels knives, but before she could grab the pepper spray from her purse, Ivy burst into the kitchen.

  Gasping for breath, she said, “Regina wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Dani stretched out the word, waiting for her heart to return to its normal rhythm. “But I have to warn you both: math wasn’t my best subject.”

  Smacking Dani’s shoulder, Ivy said, “Don’t tease.” She glanced at the dirty bowls and pans covering the stainless steel island and added, “She’ll be here any minute.”

  Ivy had been peppering Dani with stories about her new BFF, Regina Bourne. According to Ivy, Regina was nothing less than a combination of Gisele Bündchen, Mother Teresa, and Albert Einstein (although admittedly without much of his mathematical talent). However, much to Ivy’s dismay, the supermodel/saint/genius hadn’t seemed interested in a relationship beyond their study group. Maybe now that was about to change.

  “I’m in the middle of a complicated dessert that I’m trying out for the garden club event.” Dani added a half cup of sugar to the nut mixture and hit the Pulse button on the food processor. “We’ll have to chat while I work.”

  “I don’t know why you try out recipes and waste your time and the ingredients before you make them for your clients,” Ivy said.

  “Because recipes and the people on internet dating sites have a lot in common.” Dani grinned. “They never end up looking quite like their posted pictures.”

  Ivy made a face, then said, “Maybe you should clean up a little.”

  “Princess Regina will have to take it or leave it if she wants to talk to me today.”

  “At least put on your chef jacket,” Ivy begged, twisting her hands.

  “Absolutely not.” Dani wiped the sweat from her face with a paper towel and threw it into the trash. It might be pleasantly warm outside, but inside the kitchen, with the ovens going, it was hot as Hades. “The laundry charges me three bucks to wash and starch each one of those suckers.”

  “How about fixing your hair?” Ivy pleaded. “You look like you’re trying out for the role of Jane Eyre.”

  “My hair is fine.” Dani caught a glimpse of herself in the window of the microwave. “Glamour put tight buns on their ‘do’ list this year.”

  “They also said that cat-ear headbands were in style.” Ivy blew a raspberry at her. “You going to wear those too?”

  As Dani opened her mouth to defend her style choices, there were several sharp raps on the door. A second round of knocking instantly followed the first volley.

  Ivy squeaked, then hurried over, flung open the door, and fawned. “Regina, come on in. Did you have any trouble finding the place?”

  “Duh, no,” a feminine voice mocked. “My Jag does have a GPS.”

  “Right. Sure. Of course.” Ivy’s giggle was forced. “Anyway. Regina, this is my friend Dani Sloan.”

  Dani finished adding cream of tartar to the egg whites in the mixing bowl, then turned to greet Ivy’s friend and was struck speechless. The rest of the room faded away as the stunning
young woman stood illuminated in the bright sunlight spilling in the window. Even with a sneer on her face, the girl was absolutely gorgeous.

  If Dani had seen her image in a photograph, she would have sworn it was airbrushed. Regina’s long hair was so blond it was nearly silver. Her incredible eyes were so blue Dani wondered if they were colored contacts. And her sun-kissed skin was so creamy it appeared to be flawless. Either the girl had the best hair stylist, optometrist, and makeup artist in the world, or she was just that exquisite.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Dani schooled her expression and said, “Hello. I understand you want to speak to me. I’m afraid that I can’t stop what I’m doing, but if you don’t mind talking while I cook, have a seat and go ahead.” Dani gestured to the stools lining the island. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “An iced skinny mocha, no whip.” Regina perched her tiny, designer-jean-covered derriere on the stool, opened her bubblegum-pink Hermès Birkin purse, and dug out a tube of Dior lipstick.

  Dani opened her mouth to limit her beverage offer to water or soda, but Ivy scurried over to the coffeemaker and said, “It’ll be ready in a sec.”

  Did her new Ninja Coffee Bar make those kinds of drinks? The machine had been a housewarming gift from her boarders’ parents, and Dani hadn’t had time to explore all its capabilities yet.

  The only sound in the kitchen as Dani added sugar to the eggs and cream of tartar was the hiss of the coffeemaker. Pushing the mixer’s speed control lever to high, she kept an eye on the bowl’s contents as she turned to Regina and waited.

  After a few moments of trying to stare down Dani, Regina finished applying her lipstick, inhaled, and said, “Do I smell hazelnut?”

  “And almond.” Dani smiled. “I’m making a chocolate-espresso dacquoise.”

  “Ah.” Regina adjusted the engagement ring on her left hand, making sure Dani got a good look at the huge diamond, and said, “I had that in Dax, when my parents and I were touring the south of France.” She lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Of course, an American chef could never hope to meet that type of standard, but I must say yours smells divine.”