Sylvie’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of it. “Was it Guy Fabre? Did he betray her? Can I prove my mom is innocent?”
Julia’s eyes snapped open. “There is always a way to right past wrongs.” She stuffed several of the snoozing honey packets into a paper bag, along with a jar of peanut butter. “In cooking, just as in life, the only real stumbling block is fear of failure. You’ve got to have a what-the-heck attitude.”
“Good advice. But what does that have to do with the Golden Whisk?” Sylvie asked.
The fabric form of Julia was starting to unravel. She shoved the paper bag into Sylvie’s hands. “Hang on to this. Remember what I told you.”
The room began to tremble. “I will,” said Sylvie, recalling the name of the forbidden recipe.Vindicti-au-vent.Then, everything fell away, like a million jelly beans cascading down.
Devious Is Sneaking Raisins into a Chocolate Chip Cookie
SYLVIE CAME TO STANDING OVER THE BUBBLING STOCK POT, THEsteam heating her cheeks. She stared at the spot Julia had been a moment ago. Nothing was there now except her backpack.
Sylvie glanced at the paper bag in her hand.There’s always a way to right the wrongs. Maybe Julia thought the bees would somehow help me? But that still doesn’t explain the peanut butter.Sylvie scratched her head.
At least now, she knew several things for certain. First, Bass was planning to use a commis (probably Belinda) to influence the outcome of the Golden Whisk. Second, Godard was on to him. Sylvie had no idea what Godard was going to do, but something told her she wasn’t going to take it lying down. Most importantly, Sylvie now had the name of the recipe that would be used,Vindicti-au-vent.There was, of course, one more thing.An old friendwas somehow involved. But had Julia been talking about her mom and Guy Fabre? Sylvie wasn’t sure. She stuffed the gift from Julia into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.
“Sylvie?” Madame Lopez was standing near the speed racks, cradling a giant box of chopped crookneck squash. She was a short and sturdy woman with tan skin and surprising strength. She heaved the large box onto the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“Uhh … I was looking for Flora. I thought she was in here helping Agnes,” said Sylvie, fishing for information.
Madame Lopez dusted her hands on her apron. “Flora helping Agnes? I don’t know where you got that idea. Godard sent Agnes to Tidwick’s Emporium. We have a last-minute barbecue to plan. She’ll be back tomorrow. Until then, I’m taking care of the kitchen.”
That explains the tortillas and tamales.
“And you haven’t seen Flora?” asked Sylvie, still hoping for an explanation.
“No.” Madame Lopez stared suspiciously at the pot of consommé. “Have you been here long?”
“Umm … not really.” Sylvie flashed a smile. “In fact, I was just leaving.”
Madame Lopez maneuvered past Sylvie and shoved a lid onto the pot. “By the way, how’s your leg?”
“My leg is great.” Sylvie snagged a pan dulce with a coating of hibiscus sugar on it. “Thanks for the snack!” Before Madame Lopez could respond, Sylvie ducked out of the kitchen.That was close.
By the time Sylvie slipped back into her dorm room, Georgia was readying to leave.
The meringue had vanished from her glossy locks. Her button-down shirt was replaced with a nice floral-print dress.
“Sylvie?” Georgia grabbed her jacket. “Does this mean you’re changing before dinner?” She glanced down at the smears of meringue on Sylvie’s shirt. “I could loan you something.”
“Thanks. Maybe later?” Sylvie folded her arms across her chest, trying to conceal the smudges. “Right now, I’m hoping for a different kind of change … in plans.”
Georgia raised a brow.
“I need to borrow your phone, now. It can’t wait.” Sylvie filled Georgia in on what happened with the Clarity Consommé and her suspicions about Guy Fabre. She needed a friend, and ironically, Georgia was the closest she had to one. But Sylvie decided not to say anything about Flora. She still wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.Until I can confront her, I’ll keep my mouth shut.
“Someone is going to release a curse at the Golden Whisk?” Georgia’s mouth hung open.
Sylvie nodded.
“Hold on.” Georgia hustled over to her desk. “What did you say the forbidden recipe was called?”
“Vindicti-au-vent,” replied Sylvie.
Georgia rifled through her backpack, flicking through a stack of papers covered in pink ink. “I knew it!” She waved a sheet in the air. “My notes from mycology class… . You were late, but before you arrived, Bergen was talking about the amethyst deceiver—a purple mushroom, real pretty. It’s not grown much anymore, since the spell that made it famous is now forbidden.” Georgia pointed to the piece of paper.
Sylvie peered over her shoulder.
