Moonglow fancies with ro.., p.1
Moonglow Fancies with Rose Petit Fours, page 1
Moonglow Fancies with Rose Petit Fours
By Laura Briggs
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2023 Laura Briggs
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Image: “Winter in Cornwall”. Original art, “Winter landscape with snow-covered village” by Paseven and “Spring Ribbon,” by Zandiepants. Used with permission. http://www.dreamstime.com/
Dear Reader,
We’ve reached the penultimate book in the series, and it’s a story that combines two fan-favorite themes from past adventures: a celebrity wedding and a high stakes baking challenge. This Christmas season brings a wedding to test Julianne and Kitty’s mettle like nothing has before.
Of course, we know the duo can handle almost anything (remember the so-called runaway bride from book one?). But Julianne will find herself battling an unusual ethical dilemma when it comes to this latest baker’s behavior in the culinary world – and more likely to end with at least one person’s professional reputation in tatters. Will it be hers – or her bride to be’s?
Meanwhile, could there be a Cinderella moment in the works for Julianne and Kitty’s bookish young assistant Paula? Her uni’s annual winter ball is at hand, and a secret crush lingers in her past who may or may not prove charming, so she may require a little help from her fairy godmother-like friends to discover her glass slipper moment. But surprises – at the beginning or end of any fairy tale – abound.
With seasonal charm sprinkled throughout, the next-to-last installment in the series is filled with humor, heart, and hope for things to come. Happy reading!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Moonglow Fancies with Rose Petit Fours
by
Laura Briggs
Chapter One
"I've had the perfect inspiration for the Women's Institute seasonal fundraiser," said Lady Amanda. "It came to me like a thunderbolt when I was having a clearout and I found some postcards my great-grandfather sent my great-grandmother when he was in the war. Suddenly, I thought, why not a World War II theme dinner dance? An absolutely authentic one."
Those of us who were members of the W.I. exchanged glances. "Like the Victory Dances? The — the U.S.O. in films?" ventured Cherish. To me, she whispered. "Did you suggest this, Julianne?"
"No, I had no idea what she was presenting," I whispered back.
"Yes, that's precisely what I'm talking about," said Amanda, enthusiastically. "A real G.I. Red Cross war bond-buying Donut Dolly sort of affair — in costume, even."
A little ripple of interest traveled through the group. "I watched a documentary film on fundraising pie suppers for the war effort in the States," said Kitty. "I reckon that would interest people. Maybe we auction puddings or something."
Like me and Cherish, Kitty was a new member of the Institute, recruited over the past few months by Amanda, the most emboldened committee member. Having joined after she left the village council over too many headaches and infighting, she found the W.I. was — temporarily — a tame beast in need of a burst of enthusiasm.
Taking chairmanship and drumming up the rolls was nothing to Amanda. Organization and P-R was in her blood, which the success of the local business and tourism bureau could attest to, even if the tedious details of planning menus and choosing wines for hired dinner parties as lady of a tourist-loving manor didn't enthrall her always. As for me, planning events was now a nine-to-five (and beyond) professional role, so I preferred to take my place in the back rows of committees organizing charity sales and who runs the tombola drum.
"I have one better," said Amanda. "The cookery classes we sometimes have during the autumn? Why not devote them to the study of World War Two-era recipes? And I have the perfect book for learning, too — a real, absolutely-authentic guide to the period."
More murmurs followed, mostly enthusiastic. "Why not?" I said. "It sounds like it could be fun." My cooking skills were in need of polishing, although the manor's chef and caterer Michael had given me pointers. My friend Dinah had tried to improve my baking skills, but there was only so much I seemed capable of learning.
"Good," said Amanda. "Shall we put it to a vote? All in favor of having a World War Two dinner dance and authentic menu raise your hands."
It carried the day, because no one else had any ideas. The previous year's fundraiser had been a children's biscuit decorating contest, but the icing stains had proven to be too much for the W.I. centre's carpets and drapes. Something for grownups seemed like a much better idea.
"I'll bring the book next meeting," promised Amanda. "Someone donated new pots and pans to the Institute, fortunately, because it was high time some of them were replaced. I'm bringing some mixing bowls and a few extra things that Mrs. Norris stumbled upon on her yearly 'sort and winnow' among the cupboards." She clapped her hands. "I'm so excited — it's going to be lovely."
The meeting dispersed afterwards. "I'm rather looking forward to it," remarked Cherish. "It isn't part of my heritage, per se, but I love a soppy wartime love story."
"Amanda has a knack for picking interesting themes," I said. "Remember the Old England Christmas tent? With authentic wassail?" Costumes had been involved then also, particularly for Amanda, who had rejected the usual 'huswife's' drab dress for a resplendent ladies' costume like the wives of Henry VIII would have preferred.
"Maybe she'll bring along those postcards," said Cherish. "Let us have a peek at some wartime love notes."
"Unless they were a couple who kept the 'stiff upper lip' in place," I pointed out. I could well imagine dry conversation in print, asking about the rain and the garden, and commenting that Paris seemed 'unusually tatty' after the Germans had invaded. Not every story had the epic romance of Pearl Harbor or The English Patient.
"We'd best go," said Kitty, who was buttoning her jacket. "It's already past three."
"Is it?" I checked the time. "We'd better scurry, or we'll be late." We were meeting with our newest clients today at five, to begin plans for their wedding.
______________________
London baker Morgan Corky's latest cookbook was featured on the posters in the Penzance restaurant Bon Cuisine's window — which was only fitting, since she was half owner of the new Mediterranean Eurocuisine bistro, along with her fiance, Michelin star chef Mark Stroper, the former presenter of Britain Eats International.
"Think she'll dazzle us with her gold leaf biccies?" Kitty asked. The cover, like all of the famed patisserie chef's creations, tended to 'upcycle' classic flavors and standard desserts.
"Maybe he's the one who does the baking at home," I pointed out. "He did work in a French patisserie for a couple of years before he joined the program cast."
As it happened, neither of our famous clients had brought anything to the table but themselves, in the private dining corner near the kitchen, which had obviously been created for them to both work and observe the staff as they went to and fro. Morgan did offer us tea, however, and dispatched one of the waiters for it after we were seated.
"So, tell us a little about what your vision is for your wedding — how it best expresses your dream, or your personalities," I said, opening up my notepad. Beside me, Kitty quietly taking in the atmosphere, trying to get a better sense of our clients from the place which was clearly taking up most of their time. A busy staff was setting up the wine bar and chalking out tonight's specials; a construction worker carried a skill saw up the stairs in the main dining room, which led to an upper story being renovated for the restaurant's expansion under its new owners.
"I feel we want it to be about us, really," said Morgan. "Food is our lives, making it sophisticated, posh, yet real. I think finding a way to make that accessible to our guests — who will expect a top-tier table, of course." She laughed, lightly touching her fiance's arm at the same time.
Morgan wore a red jumper dusted with flour on the book's cover, but in real life, she looked much more glam. Her blonde hair had highlights, both to cover a little early grey and to add strawberry blonde streaks to her champagne shade to make it seem more vibrant. Her jewelry was gold, heavy but tasteful — much like her makeup and the blouse she wore, which I had seen for three figures in a women's fashion magazine.
"I think the food is pretty important," said Mark. "I think ... we'd probably like a good band. I think something with a bit of 'huzzah' maybe. Like fireworks at the close."
Mark was less glam, at a glance. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, both of which had
"Something to see you off in style," I said, smiling. "That's something we can help with, yes. We've seen it all from limousines to petal cannons at a harbor farewell." I didn't mention that particular wedding, sadly, never set sail.
"You came very highly recommended," said Morgan. "A friend of mine saw a bridal magazine feature on one of your weddings, and it was stunning. That's why, when we decided to do the wedding here due to all the obligations at the restaurant, we wanted to hire you."
"The pictures were great," said Mark. "I liked what you did with the simple lily bouquets. It was really metropolitan. That was the sophistication I knew Morgan was looking for."
"What are you looking for?" Kitty asked. "The same vision?" She glanced between them. "It's good to know how much of it you share and how much of it either of you is compromising to make one vision."
"Oh, I agree with her, of course," he said, smiling. "That's the right answer, isn't it?" We both laughed.
"Uh, I think I'd feel comfortable with that level of sophistication on a day this important to both of us," he said. He took Morgan's hand and squeezed it. " It's kind of the image — we have a lot of major restaurateurs and wine buyers on our guest list. Some A-list people. Basically, we need our clients to feel comfortable and impressed." He nodded. "That's the basic part for me."
"I agree," said Morgan. "It's so important to us. And this place is an absolute madhouse, as you can see. I hate to even mention it, but the publishers are pushing me to finish the manuscript for the next cookbook, so I'm on a tight deadline — that's in addition to running the bakery for the new restaurant, so we can develop and test all my latest recipes."
"What's the focus of the new book?" I asked, curious. Amanda had a copy of her last one, and had made a delicious cherry chip Swiss roll with a decadent cherry mousse filling and ganache drizzle with chocolate shavings.
"Couture mini cakes and other small desserts," she answered. "Cupcakes, petit fours, filled mini patisserie. I love the gorgeous look of Paris shop window styles, but I want that same quality in home recipes that we all love. Don't we all want that best of British in a sweet little French-style creation?"
"Sounds like a great concept," I said. Morgan laughed, then rolled her eyes.
"It's absolute murder to make all those ideas reality on a publisher's timeline," she said. She patted Mark's arm. "He's my rock through every stage of it. It's like they're squeezing the blood from my artistic veins. Every time I think I can't give more, another brain flash saves me, and the publisher goes 'we're positively mad about it, Morgan, it's amazing.'" She laughed again.
"And you're running the main restaurant?" I said to Mark. I knew he was a patisserie chef in the past, but the program he had hosted featured both desserts and main dishes from around the world.
"I am," he nodded. "It's a bit of a challenge. I had a manager at the bakery I ran in Richmond, but I wanted to go it on my own here. Fortunately, we have a crack chef on staff, helping develop the main menu, so I'm basically taste boss." His smile was affable — a little lopsided, like Matt's when he was admitting to an occasional snafu in his garden designs.
"I reckon you're doing the wedding's menu?" Kitty cracked a smile around the edges of her lips.
"Actually, I'm off duty," he said. "A friend of mine, he's a two-star Michelin chef, he's coming down to do the prep and execution, but it's off the menu concept that the restaurant chef and I are designing.
"So let's get down to colors and wedding style," I said, as Kitty opened up the sketchbook she carried, in case a few quick lines would clarify the discussion. "And, of course, the venue. We need to know if you have a place selected — I think you said during our first meeting that you were thinking about having it upstairs?"
"Only if the renovations are finished," said Morgan. "It's going to be gorgeous, we just don't know if it will be in time. We've put pressure on the contractors, but you now how professionals are. Always saying there's another job ahead of you on the list, or whatever. So we're considering a marquee as a second option. Mark has a friend with a field, so we could basically have it on the green."
"That can work," I said. "I can pay a retainer fee for the marquee, obviously. But we'll need to see the space upstairs, and, more importantly, the plans for what the finished room will look like, so we can have a 'plan A' ready if it's finished in time."
"Today it would risk your lives, but come back another day and I'll take you on the grand tour," said Mark. "I'll have a copy of the floor plan and the design scheme ready for you also, if that helps."
"Great," I said. "Now — colors and flowers. Kitty would like all the detail you can give her, because she's generally the brains behind those arrangements."
"Favorites are important," said Kitty. "It helps to know if what you love about either happens to be two things which clash. Sometimes we have to figure out which one to choose."
"Wow. I hadn't even thought about it yet," said Morgan. "I think — vibrant garden colors. The really deep-hued things attract me. Like that edible floral bouquet I created for the Quinns' dinner party, from paste sugar — remember?" she said to Mark. "Lilac stalks in different colors and shades, with those little tiny asters." She squeezed her fingers close in illustration, a winning smile for the memory. I had a feeling the design received a lot of adulation.
"So ... purple, maroon, bit of lavender," guessed Kitty. "Bit summery, which is good since we're talking about next year's warm months. June, right?"
"Classic June wedding," said Morgan, nodding. "That's us. The only way we'll be ready, at this rate, especially since they're not guaranteeing the window replacements upstairs until next March. Oh, and we kind of want the guests to see a preview of it, like a downsized version, at the engagement party we're planning in December. Some of our friends — no naming names — have obligations next summer and won't be here for the ceremony, so we want to show off the basic beauty before the grand unveiling."
"Okay," I said. "So, are we planning that also?"
"Absolutely," said Morgan. "We want it to be perfection, too."
I had almost forgotten about the tea, when the waiter from earlier returned with a tray holding a teapot and some cups. Behind him came a young blonde woman in a culinary jacket, carrying a little tray.
"I thought you'd like to let them try some of the cakes you finished this morning," said the girl, setting them on the table. "Bon appetite." She smiled at us.
A half-dozen tiny cupcakes were decorated with raspberry-streaked buttercream — or so I thought until I tried one, and discovered it was melt-in-your mouth white chocolate mousse. The little cake beneath was vanilla, with a raspberry cream filling with pureed berries incorporated.
I glanced at Morgan, who had been watching expectantly, now looking pleased. "Gorgeous, right?" she said. "There's just a tiny little hint of walnut in the cake as well."
"Amazing," I said, when I could talk again. I glanced at Kitty, and saw total agreement in her eyes. "That's one of the best things I've had in ages." And this was with me having tasted Dinah's latest pumpkin spice mini cupcakes.
"Are you doing the cake yourself?" Kitty asked.
"I plan to," Morgan nodded. "I was thinking, bourbon cream frosting, fondant paste, very rustic but subtle flavors infusing vanilla and lemon. Very chic."
"Do you want to send us a copy of your design?" I asked. Kitty and I were eyeing the two remaining cupcakes hungrily, trying not to reach for them.
"I can," Morgan answered. "You need to see it for the decor, obviously. I can't wait to see the design you have in mind, especially when you see the photos from Mark's friend's house. We've been thinking of having the ceremony in the drawing room — he never uses it, it's just a formal space that sits there most of the year and it's stunning. He says we can have carte blanche to rearrange it, which is better than the church offered. You know how limited the decor opportunities can be at one."
