“Well don’ttellher,” Bea said, alarmed. Not that she was scared of Victoria, but it was always better not to provoke essential people. “Gage…there’s a stand selling pomegranate gelato and ceramic espresso cups painted like farm animals.”
He exhaled. And indulged her.
They walked slowly through the rows—well, she did. Gage’s version, coupled with the two security trailing him, resembled a motorcade.
Twenty minutes in, they hit the cheese stand. A small chalkboard outside read:
Think you’ve got the palate? Enter the Market Cheese Gauntlet.
Bea didn’t ask. She just put down their names.
“We could be eating French food,” Gage said flatly.
“We could win a Camembert wheel.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
“I want the one we win,” she said sweetly.
“You’re aware the prize has a retail value of eighteen dollars.”
“Priceless,” she said, and smiled like that ended the argument.
The vendor handed them blindfolds.
They sat at a folding table. The woman with the clipboard leaned in. “Please describe the first sample using mouthfeel, finish, and emotional resonance.”
“It’s…cheese.”
Bea elbowed him. “You’re going to get us disqualified.”
She chewed thoughtfully. “Nutty. Hints of caramel. Creamy finish. Childhood joy, but the European kind.”
The woman scribbled furiously. The second cheese arrived.
“Sheep’s milk. Manchego, aged twelve months. Spanish origin,” Gage said after a moment.
“Whoa. Specific,” Bea said. “Is he right?”
“He actually is,” the woman confirmed.
The fourth sample made Bea cough. “That one tastes like wet hay and heartbreak.”
“Roquefort,” Gage said.
They got nine out of ten.
Just when she thought she knew the limits of his résumé, he addeddairy whisperer.She briefly considered hiring him out at dinner parties. If this whole finance dynasty thing didn’t work out, it was a relief to know they had a fallback plan.
The vendor, visibly impressed, handed them the Camembert wheel in a little paper box with a bow.
Bea lit up like he’d just won her a giant stuffed bear with a single throw. “You’re amazing at cheese.”
He gave her a look. “Let’s never say that sentence in public again.”
She pointed across the path. “Can we do the chocolate one now?”
He turned.
