On the second day, chocolate work. Lucy tempered dark chocolate, created delicate decorations, assembled a multi-layered entremet that looked like modern art.
"You have improved," Chef Laurent observed. "When you arrived, you were a baker. Now you are becoming an artist."
On the third day, her final exam: create an original dessert that showcased everything she'd learned. Lucy made a deconstructed apple tart—her grandmother's pork bun spices (cinnamon, star anise, a hint of ginger) reimagined in a French context. Caramelized apples, brown butter ice cream, a delicate tuile flavored with the spices of home.
Chef Laurent tasted it in silence. Lucy held her breath.
"This," he finally said, "is who you are. Not French, not American. Something new. Your grandmother's legacy translated through French technique. It is—" he paused, searching for words, "—exceptional."
Lucy wanted to cry. This was the highest praise Chef Laurent had ever given her.
"You should stay in Paris," Chef Laurent continued. "Take the position at Le Bernardin. Or Pierre Gagnaire. You have rare talent, Mademoiselle Chen. Do not waste it returning to a small town in Vermont."
"I don't know if I'm staying yet."
"Then you are a fool." But his voice was almost gentle. "The choice is yours. But know that if you leave Paris, you are walking away from something most chefs dream of their entire lives."
After finals, Lucy's cohort went out to celebrate. They got spectacularly drunk at a tiny bar in the Latin Quarter, toasting their completion of the program, their futures, each other.
"To Lucy!" James declared, already three glasses of wine in. "Who made Chef Laurent call something 'exceptional' which I'm pretty sure has never happened in recorded history!"
"To Lucy!" everyone echoed.
Lucy laughed, clinked glasses, tried to feel happy. But underneath the celebration was the weight of her decision. July first—five days away. She needed to tell the restaurants yes or no. Stay or go. Paris or Timber Falls.
"You're thinking about it," Amelie observed, sliding into the seat next to Lucy. "The decision."
"Am I that obvious?"
"You have been obvious for months. So—have you decided?"
"No. Yes. Maybe." Lucy set down her wine glass. "I keep making lists. Pros and cons. Reasons to stay, reasons to go. And every time, I end up exactly where I started—completely unsure."
"Lists are for grocery shopping, not for life decisions," Amelie said. "What does your heart say?"
"My heart says it's homesick."
"And your head?"
"My head says Paris is the opportunity of a lifetime."
"So you have a problem." Amelie smiled. "Your heart and your head want different things."
"That's not helpful."
"No. But it's true." Amelie paused. "Can I tell you something? When I decided to come to Le Cordon Bleu, I left behind a relationship. A man I loved. We had plans—marriage, children, a life in Lyon. But I wanted this. I wanted to be a chef. So I chose."
"Do you regret it?"
"Some days, yes. Some days I wonder what my life would have been if I had stayed with him. But Lucy—I would have regretted not doing this more. Does that make sense?"
"I think so."
"You need to ask yourself: which regret can you live with? Leaving Paris? Or leaving Jake?"
Lucy didn't have an answer.
June in Timber Falls meant summer hockey camps.
