Sylvie eyed the recipe.
8 ounces chocolate, chopped
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
Pinch Fleur de Sel
3 eggs
1 cup fine sugar
Bliss blossoms, finely ground
3 tablespoons Dutch-processed cocoa
“You scoop the cocoa.” Agnes handed Sylvie a measuring cup. “And tell me what’s troubling you.”
Sylvie grabbed a mixing bowl. While they worked, she filled Agnes in on her new roommate.
Agnes tossed the shards of chocolate into a bowl and nodded. “Perhaps the truce at breakfast is a new start for you and Georgia?”
“I don’t know. I think we’re just too different,” said Sylvie.
Agnes plopped the bowl of chocolate onto a bain-marie and pulled out a small jar filled with yellow powder. She handed it to Sylvie. “Add a pinch of bliss blossom to the melting chocolate. Have you ever hunted for morel mushrooms?”
Sylvie dusted the powder into the bowl. “Err, no. Why? Do they have a hard time making friends too?”
“They can’t grow without the roots of a host tree, usually elm or oak. Something quite common.” Agnes gave the mixture a stir as she whipped the eggs. “My point is, sometimes the ally you need is someone you’d least expect.”
Sylvie recognized Georgia as a formidable enemy, but could she really be an ally?That seems like a stretch.On the other hand, Georgia had played along with the story they’d given Kitty.
Agnes scooped the cookie dough onto a sheet pan, popped the tray into the oven, and set a timer. “As for the rest, I’m sure the gossip about your mama and Flammé will die down after the competition… . But how did Georgia get her hands on Wheeler’s interview, anyway? Godard monitors the messages on the rice paper scrolls. I can’t imagine she’d let some sort of tabloid story slip in.”
“Oh well … it was …” Sylvie tried to figure out what to say. “Umm …”
Agnes waved a hand dismissively. “On second thought, don’t tell me. After all, I can’t report what I don’t know.”
Sylvie was relieved. There was an unspoken set of rules in every kitchen.1) Show respect for the food and others. 2) Never steal someone else’s ingredients. 3) Never, ever, lie to the chef.Now that she and Agnes were baking together, Sylvie didn’t want to break the third rule.
“You know, I was actually in France the year your mama competed. I watched the whole competition.”
“Really?” Sylvie’s mom hated talking about it. Now, she wondered if she might be able to glean some useful information from Agnes. “What exactly happened to Flammé’s ingredients?”
“It was all a rather complicated affair. You see, the CCS didn’t start monitoring the competition so closely until after everything happened with your mama. Plus, with no spell to trace, ingredient tampering can be tricky to prove.” Agnes toyed with a scarf. “But everyone expected Team France to win. They’d been at the top of the podium for years, and with LeGrande’s only child on Flammé’s team, everyone was certain it would be an easy win.”
Sylvie’s stomach stirred. “Wait. Fernand LeGrande, the guy who now runs the competition,hewas Josephine Flammé’s teammate?”
Agnes’s gold-rimmed spectacles slid back down the bridge of her nose as she stared at Sylvie. “Yes. They were best friends. You didn’t know?”
Sylvie shook her head.
Agnes cleared her throat. “It must’ve slipped your mama’s mind.”
Sylvie tried to make sense of it. “So, does he blame my mom too?”
Agnes shrugged. “He was never vocal about it, unlike Josephine. She was the star of the team. Poor Fernand. His father brought him here once. He was a wisp of a boy.”
Sylvie had seen a picture of Balthazar LeGrande. With his multiple chins and belly as broad as a beach ball, she couldn’t imagine him having a small kid.
