Page 14 of Markets & Mooncakes

"That would have been a terrible gift. What would I have done? Kept it in the oven for six years?"

Nate laughs. "Knowing you, that would be exactly what would happen." He sets down several glass moulds that have domes blown into them. I'm not sure how they make them, or how we're going to get the marshmallow domes out of them when we're done, but I suppose that's why I'm just a princess who enjoys baking and not a baker. Or it's because I happened to be born to a King and Queen.

I grab a couple of spoons, and we start filling the domes, though I keep a close eye on Nate and how much chocolate he's adding to each so that I don't overfill mine. Once he's done, he picks up the mould and turns it upside down over the bowl, letting the excess run into the mould, in theory leaving a smooth thin shell for when we're done.

My fingers are covered in chocolate by the time they're all filled and ready to go out to the ice house to set, but I'm smiling anyway. Even if I don't like to get my hands too messy, it's kind of fun when it's chocolate, especially because I can lick it off.

Nate clears his throat and looks away from me.

"Are you all right?" I ask.

"Fine," he assures me. "Just fine."

I'm not sure that's true, but I don't really understand why that would be the case. "I'll wash my hands," I say, assuming that he's just not impressed with the way I'm cleaning them. I wouldn't have touched anything with them until afterwards, but it's still a fair response.

He nods, but doesn't seem completely convinced by whatever I'm doing. "I'm going to take these to the ice house. Do you want to finish the biscuits?"

"Sure." I'm confused, but I do as he asks and head back over to the table so that I can focus on the biscuits. The dough is already in a smooth ball, so I turn my attention to shaping it.

The rolling pin glides over the biscuits, turning the smooth ball into a thin sheet. Nate returns a few minutes later, looking less flustered than before, which is a relief.

"I think we're ready to cut them out," I say.

He nods and picks up one of the cutters, holding it out to me.

"Thanks. So, how patient am I going to have to be about this one?" I ask. "When am I going to be able to taste all of this?"

"It depends on how quickly things set," he says. "But you should be all right. It's cold today, and the ice house is even colder."

"I'm glad to hear it." I smile at him. "I know I should be able to wait, but I just want to taste what we've made."

He chuckles. "I know. I'm surprised you haven't asked about the tea loaf yet."

"And I'm not going to. You said that you were hesitant to share your experiments with me because if they were bad, you didn't want me to taste them. So I'm not going to ask to taste it unless you want to share that part with me."

"We can try it together," he says. "It came out smelling good, and it looks like it should, so I think that's a great start."

"It is." I press the cutter into the biscuit dough, carefully moving them across to one of the baking sheets.

"I can get it when the biscuits are chilling in the ice house before baking," he says.

"That sounds good. If you want it to be like that. I don't want you to feel as if you have to share this with me just because I asked why you hadn't," I say quickly.

"I want to," he responds firmly. "I value your opinion, so it does make sense that I share it with you."

"I don't want you to do it because it makes sense," I respond. "I want you to do it because you want to."

"All right, I want your opinion because it makes sense."

"I do like that logic."

He laughs. "All right, well I'm going to put these in the ice house so they can chill before we bake them."

"Won't that stop them from spreading?" I ask.

He nods. "That's the point. We need them to be the same size as the domes."

"Ah."