She left them in romance debating the merits of authors switching genres and immersed herself in the expansive cookery section. It took her less than five minutes to pick out three cookery books and a box of cookie cutters shaped like fir trees.
If I lived here, she thought,I’d come here every day.
She returned reluctantly to her friends, and Anna raised an eyebrow when she saw the books.
“I thought you’d given up cooking.”
“I’m not going to cook from these. I’m going to read them.”
“Read them?” Erica frowned. “You mean like a novel?”
“Yes, she does mean that. It’s what she does when she’s stressed,” Anna reminded her. “You know the story—when she was eight she discovered all her grandmother’s old French cookery books and read them cover to cover.”
It was true. She’d sat cross-legged on the floor of her grandmother’s bedroom, reading her way through dusty books, with a French dictionary by her side. Her grandmother had discovered her there and invited her to join her in the kitchen.
I will teach you the five mother sauces of classical French cuisine.
At her grandmother’s side she learned about the great French chefs, Marie-Antoine Carême and Georges-Auguste Escoffier. With her grandmother’s hand over hers, she’d learned to makebéchamel,hollandaise,velouté,espagnoleandsauce tomat.
Those lessons had served her well when she’d started training and she’d been grateful, but what her grandmother had really given her was a love of cooking.
And although Anna was right that reading cookery books was usually a stress buster for her, she hadn’t picked one up for six months.
Now, for the first time, she wanted to. Maybe that was progress.
“Cookery books fascinate me. They tell you so much about local culture. These are local Vermont cookery books. I know we’re not staying,” she said quickly, “but I’d still like to read these.”
“And the cookie cutters?”
“I collect cookie cutters like a writer collects notebooks. I thought they were cute, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever use them.”
Erica glanced at Anna. “Want to bet that she uses them before the end of the holidays?”
Anna shook her head.“I never bet on a certainty.”
They paid for their purchases and headed back to the car. It was dark and the street sparkled with Christmas lights.
“Everyone is having fun,” Claudia said as they picked their way through the snow to the car. “Do you think they’re this happy in January or is it part of the Christmas festivities? Maybe you’re only allowed to take part if you smile.”
They arrived back at the inn to find Hattie checking in a young couple who were keen for information on local ski trails.
Erica kept her eyes straight ahead and headed to the stairs.
“Shall we meet in two hours for drinks before dinner?” Anna followed her into the room and she and Claudia collected their luggage. “That should give us time for a relaxing bath and some personal time.”
Personal time for Anna would mean calling Pete. Claudia imagined her snuggled on the bed in her dressing gown, face pink from the bath, telling Pete everything that had happened because she and Pete always discussed everything.
Claudia felt a twinge of envy.
No matter what happened, Anna always had Pete.
What did Claudia have? She needed to fix her life, but in the meantime, she was going to make the most of her one and only evening in the Maple Sugar Inn. A relaxing bath sounded like a good idea, so she would do the same and then curl up in front of the fire with her cookery books and indulge in a comfort binge read.
TWELVE
Hattie
Hattie stood outside the door for a full minute before she finally knocked.
