Ashley Lister - Just Desserts

Trudy had to wrench her gaze away. The acrid taste of jealousy was rising in her throat. She wasn’t particularly attracted to women but she found herself envying Daryl and Beatrice for the happiness they were sharing and she didn’t want to feel envious of something that was obviously so special.

‘How are you coping?’ Charlotte asked.

Charlotte wore an Alexander McQueen creation. It was light cotton, as white as the bride’s wedding gown, and its tailored cut accentuated the balance of Charlotte’s slim waist between her broad hips and ample bosom. Her brunette tresses were down to her shoulders and the ‘V’ above her nose was deep as she scowled with concern at Trudy.

Harvey stood next to her, his arm linked in hers. He looked equally concerned and waited patiently for Trudy to say, probably for the hundredth time that day, that she was fine and well and bearing up under the circumstances. She had practised the line so many times she could now almost say the words without feeling as though she was about to burst into tears.

Almost.

‘Do you need a drink?’ Charlotte asked.

Trudy shook her head. She was avoiding alcohol today. The day’s events were proof that she could make poor decisions. She didn’t need to take on alcohol to help further impair her judgement.

‘Something to eat?’ Harvey pressed.

‘I’ll get something for myself, thanks.’

She excused herself from their well-meaning interest and went to the buffet table. None of the remaining sandwiches appealed to her. She walked past most of the savouries without giving them much attention. Her interest, as always, was focused on the desserts.

She had glimpsed a selection of muffins on display and she wanted to investigate further. She nudged the fuchsia-haired maître d’ and asked, ‘Nikki, are those what I think they are?’

Nikki glanced at the display.

‘Kali’s mini carrot cakes?’

Trudy released a sigh. Kali was Boui-Boui’s resident pâtissier . Trudy had heard rumours about the woman’s legendary mini carrot cakes but she hadn’t previously had a chance to sample one. She took out her smartphone and snapped a couple of shots of the desserts before Nikki could raise an objection.

‘I thought she’d stopped making them,’ Trudy mumbled.

‘She had. But this is a special occasion.’

Trudy stepped closer to admire them. ‘Have you tried one yet?’

‘I’m working. Give me credit for some professionalism.’

Trudy picked up one of the mini carrot cakes. She had heard several people talk about the pâtissier ’s speciality muffins, but Kali had never made one while Trudy worked in the kitchen.

The dark golden sponge suggested brown sugar as well as the addition of various rich, exotic spices. Inhaling their bouquet Trudy caught a note of coriander and a suggestion of nutmeg. The surface of the mini-cake was hidden beneath a smooth white layer of icing, decorated by curly slivers of orange zest.

‘Are you going to eat that?’ asked Nikki. ‘Or are you trying to sniff the flavour out?’

Trudy grinned. ‘I’ll eat it in a moment. First, I want to admire its beauty.’

She did take a bite, and enjoyed the rush of flavours and textures. The muffin was incredibly light and surprisingly moist. Trudy tried to occupy her thoughts by identifying the blend of mixed spices, the creaminess of the pecan nuts and the hints of orange and sultana that accompanied the subtle carrot flavouring.

It was a sensational taste experience. It was as good as any muffin she had ever made, and far better than some of those she’d sampled. Although Trudy knew Kali was good, the pâtissier was so quiet and modest about her achievements it always surprised Trudy each time she rediscovered the quality of the woman’s creations.

To Trudy’s mind, the only problem with the muffin was that it felt a little oily on her fingers.

She tried to work out how that could be addressed and eliminated. She re-examined the flavours to work out what fats had been used, her brow furrowing with concentration. If she was able to make something similar without the oiliness, Trudy thought her online catering company, Sweet Temptation, might be able to produce and supply a similar mini carrot cake to go with their current range of quality desserts. She also thought, if she was able to get a recipe out of the day, or at least expand her company’s product range by a single item, her attendance at the wedding would not have been the heartbreaking, soul-destroying trauma she had initially feared.

‘Trudy! There you are.’

Trudy fixed a grin to her face as she turned to smile at the bride. This was one aspect of the heartbreaking, soul-destroying trauma she had been wanting to avoid.

Aliceon looked beautiful in her silver-white gown. She was a tall woman with a willowy frame that looked like it was sculpted to model wedding dresses. Since she had now married Bill three times, Trudy thought, the woman could apply for a job as wedding-dress model, given all the amateur experience she had gathered over the years. She quietly chastised herself for the unkind thought and reminded herself that Aliceon did not deserve her animosity.

‘Congratulations, Mrs Hart,’ Trudy said cordially.

She put the mini carrot cake down and embraced Aliceon. It took an effort of willpower not to wipe the oily residue from her fingers on the back of Aliceon’s flawless wedding dress. But Trudy figured she was mature enough to resist such impulses. She would wait to wipe her hands clean until she was politely hugging Bill in his pristine morning suit.

‘You look absolutely beautiful,’ Trudy told Aliceon.

‘I know,’ Aliceon admitted. She twirled in her dress and said, ‘It’s a Caroline Herrera. Who couldn’t look gorgeous in a dress like this?’

Trudy smiled and nodded. Imogen, Aliceon’s daughter, had been sufficiently impressed with the dress’s design to talk enthusiastically about it when Trudy last saw her. It was a smooth flow of ice-white satin, set with snowy white lace and shiny white pearls. Regardless of how she felt about the woman, Trudy had to agree that Aliceon did look sensational.

‘Imogen looked very lovely as your maid of honour,’ Trudy said. ‘Where is she?’

‘I think she was getting the baby to rest in Bill’s office.’

Trudy thanked her and started toward the kitchen.

Aliceon placed a hand on Trudy’s arm, stopping her. She fixed her with a solemn stare and said, ‘Thank you, Trudy. It is appreciated.’

Trudy shook her head. ‘You have no need to thank me.’

Aliceon’s knowing smile creased the corners of her eyes. She released her hold on Trudy’s arm and stepped away.

An elderly, bearded man stepped in front of her. His expression was kindly. His eyes sparkled behind his small, wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘Are you holding one of Kali’s mini carrot cakes?’

‘Finlay,’ she smiled.

She hugged him harder than was needed. His was one of the few friendly faces she had seen today that wasn’t studying her with an expression of pitying dismay. Finlay, always the professional, seemed more concerned with the dessert she held.

‘Is it?’ he asked. ‘Is it one of Kali’s mini carrot cakes?’

She nodded. ‘Have you tried one yet?’

‘I’ve tried six,’ he admitted. ‘I’m still trying to work out some of the ingredients.’

They talked their way through the flavours, each interrupting the other in their haste to be the first to identify all the ingredients. Both of them had detected nutmeg and allspice. Trudy mentioned the walnuts whilst Finlay talked about the pecans.

‘I could have sworn I tasted cardamom in there,’ Trudy said.

Finlay slapped himself on the forehead. ‘Cardamom,’ he muttered. ‘Of course. Now that you’ve said it I know that’s what it is.’