English Trifle (18 page)

“No, madam, Mrs. Land was not fired. Her son had a bit of trouble with the law and was unable to come to see her. She went to spend the holiday with him instead. The situation I used as an example was simply hypothetical. However, if Lord Melcalfe had discovered you and Mrs. Land in the kitchen, she very well could have been out of a job. Indiscreet staff members do not last long in this line of work, and while I came up with a solution to this particular situation, if not for the standard two-day holiday, it would not have worked. In a word, we were all very lucky.”

Sadie looked at the remaining torte on her plate, but what had been somewhat appetizing a minute earlier was not at all appetizing now that she realized the risk she’d caused for Mrs. Land. She pushed away from the table. “Thank you, Grant. I understand.”

“Of course,” he said, bowing slightly as she passed him in the doorway.

At the top of the stairs she ran into the dark-skinned security guard, who stood as she approached. She smiled politely and took the hand he offered to her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Hoffmiller,” he said.

“Sadie,” she corrected him. “ ‘Mrs. Hoffmiller’ makes me feel old. I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.”

“Manny Heshad,” he said. He smiled, revealing white teeth that looked even whiter against the cinnamon tone of his skin. “If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

Sadie thanked him and continued on her way to the room she and Breanna shared. When she entered the room, Breanna was digging through her backpack, emptying most of the contents onto the bed in the process of looking for whatever it was she was looking for.

“Is everything all right?” Sadie asked as she shut the door behind her. For good measure she locked it as well.

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Breanna said without looking up.

“You just seem, um—”

“Overwhelmed?” Breanna offered sarcastically. “Tired? Stressed out? Worried about not getting back to school in time for the first day of my final semester?” She let out a huff at the end of her comments and clenched her jaw, still digging through her backpack.

“Confused over your feelings toward Liam?”

Breanna’s hands slowed. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, finally pulling out her pajamas that had been expertly packed by being scrunched into a wad. Breanna shook them out but it did little to help the wrinkles.

“I know,” Sadie said. “So I’ll leave it alone, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” She wanted to bring up the argument between Liam and John Henry that Breanna had kept to herself, and yet it felt a little like beating a dead horse at this point. Breanna knew Sadie was unhappy about that and she’d apologized.

Breanna closed her eyes as if considering that. “Sure,” she said. Without making eye contact she turned toward the bathroom, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

While Breanna changed, Sadie positioned, opened, and sorted through her luggage in order to find her facial kit, hand lotion, slippers, socks, and pajamas—purple flannels she’d made herself. She liked a larger top and smaller bottom, which meant she’d have to buy two pair of store-bought pajamas to be truly comfortable. Instead she made her own. They were nicely folded so as not to get wrinkled like Breanna’s were. She rearranged her things while considering how best to start the day tomorrow. She wanted to make the most of her time before they were sent to London.

When Breanna came back into the room, Sadie announced her plan to make breakfast in the morning.

“Did Austin say you could be in the kitchen?” Breanna asked, looking up at Sadie as she pulled back the covers from the bed.

“Well, I figure I’ll wake up early and just get to work. What is he going to do, kick me out?” She considered telling Breanna about her conversation with Grant but chose against it for fear that Breanna would agree with the butler. “Think about it, Bre, this is my chance to cook in a real English kitchen—I’m going to make crumpets.” She smiled widely at the idea.

“Maybe you should at least talk to Liam first,” Breanna said with none of the enthusiasm Sadie felt her announcement deserved. Breanna climbed into the bed and threw most of the two dozen pillows onto the floor. Sadie hoped the cases weren’t real silk. “Austin already told you no.”

“I know,” Sadie said with a single shoulder shrug. “But it’s not his house. I’d just like to surprise everyone and save them from takeout for breakfast.”

Breanna burrowed down into the covers. “I still think you ought to get permission. And besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around by yourself.”

“Sometimes repentance is better than permission,” Sadie replied, stepping out of her shoes. “And I don’t want to get anyone in trouble by asking. Besides, they’ve got security guards posted all over the place—you met Manny, right? And, I thought I’d make my Wake ’Em Up Breakfast Casserole—how does that sound?”

Breanna’s eyes brightened, but only slightly. “Real food,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not sure I know what it tastes like anymore. What time are you planning to get started?” She reached for her phone on the nightstand and flipped it open.

“Early,” Sadie said as Breanna began texting. “Before anyone gets up who can tell me not to do it.”

“Don’t you mean us? Before anyone gets up who can tell us not to do it?” Breanna asked, looking up from her phone. “I’m going with you.”

Sadie hedged. “Well, I know it’s been a hard day for you, and it’s not healthy to handle so much stress on less than adequate sleep. There’ve been studies, you know.”

“Nice try.” Breanna put her phone in her lap and picked up her watch that she’d set on the bedside table. “What time?”

“Five,” Sadie said.

Breanna nodded and spent nearly a minute programming the watch before putting it back on the nightstand and picking up her phone again. “Be sure and wake me up, okay?”

“Sure,” Sadie said on her way to the bathroom to get changed, picking up the notebook on her way. Sure was a great word, a wonderful way to give a positive but noncommittal answer. She closed the door behind her while coming up with the justification she’d use for not waking up Breanna in the morning. In addition to the fact that Breanna seemed intent on reining Sadie in, there were just times when she preferred to cook alone.

~ ~ ~

Sadie grabbed Breanna’s watch after the first beep—she’d moved it to her bedside table after Breanna had fallen asleep. After pushing buttons until it shut up, she got out of bed and slid the note she’d written in the bathroom last night from underneath her notebook. She didn’t want Breanna to worry when she woke up and found her mother gone.

Sadie padded across the floor to the chair where she’d laid out her clothing for the day—her favorite Gap curvy jeans—a must for her voluptuous hips—and a black T-shirt with “Rock Star” written across it in rhinestones. Her friend Gayle had bought the same shirt and they loved wearing them out in public together and making people stare. Though Sadie wouldn’t call herself old, and she certainly didn’t think she looked like she was closer to sixty than fifty, it still confused people to see a mature woman dressed in silly clothes. Lastly, she slid her feet into her orange Crocs.

Mrs. Land and Lacy had worn a black uniform similar to hospital scrubs, but of course Sadie didn’t have anything like that so she’d gotten as close as she could. She picked up the clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom where she took a quick shower. After drying off, she added a little gel to her hair and attacked it with the blow dryer, sending wet hair in every direction until it was mostly dry and stuck out like an electrocuted turkey. Then all she had to do was strategically add some sculpting putty and mold it into place—ingenious invention, sculpting putty. Once her hair tucked and curled and behaved itself nicely, she attended to her makeup, pronounced herself lovely—if she did say so herself—and tiptoed back through the bedroom, grabbing her recipe book, whistle, and ChapStick before slipping out the door into the dimly lit hallway. She wished she had her jacket since the house was rather cold. It was made of stone after all: what did she expect?

For the briefest moment she questioned her own judgment of being alone in a house where a murder had taken place. Or of leaving Breanna alone as well, but whether it was because of the security guards posted around the house or because she just really, really, really wanted to cook, Sadie wasn’t nearly as freaked out as perhaps she should be. She had her trusty jogging whistle in her pocket for protection and besides, someone had to make breakfast. She went back and locked the bedroom door from the inside, testing the knob to assure Breanna was safe, and then headed toward the stairs.

Manny was sitting at the top of the stairs and rose to his feet when she reached him. His dark skin seemed even darker in the dimmed light of early morning.

“Mrs. Hoffmiller,” he said, his lilting accent making her name sound so musical. “What are you doing up and about?”

She smiled. “Making breakfast,” she said as if sharing a secret.

Manny began shaking his head but Sadie put a hand on his arm. “Manny,” she said, looking him full in the face. “I have spent a week touring this beautiful country, seeing the sights, living the life of gentry, and yet right now all I want to do is get my hands in some flour and put together a breakfast that will last you all day.” She swished her hand through the air. “Now, doesn’t it seem ridiculous that some silly rules about who can and can’t be allowed in the kitchen would get in the way of my doing this service?”

Manny chuckled. “Ah, Mrs. Hoffmiller, you’re trying to manipulate me,” he said. “But I’m not to be—”

“Oatmeal raisin,” Sadie interrupted, lifting one eyebrow. “Is that your price? A fresh plate of oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“I’m hired help for the estate, Mrs. Hoffmiller, I can’t go against the instructions.”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” she cut in. “Fresh, gooey, oozy chocolate chip cookies. And no one told you specifically not to allow me to make breakfast, did they?”

He shook his head. “Mrs. Hoffmiller,” he said again, placing his hand on his chest. “Regardless of whether I was specifically instructed or not, I was told that guests are to remain in the common areas of the estate.”

Sadie narrowed her eyes, looking him over appraisingly as she tried to properly determine what would woo him to her side of this argument. Finally she leaned toward him. “Coconut macaroons,” she said with confidence. How could she have forgotten how popular they were in England?

Manny’s back straightened, and then he leaned forward. “Dipped in chocolate?” he asked.

Bingo.

“Oh, yes, each bite is a perfect combination of smooth, rich chocolate and sweet coconut. Together, they are food of the gods.”

Manny, for all his brute strength, was putty in her hands. He reached down and unclipped a radio from his belt. “Mrs. Hoffmiller will be in the kitchen,” he said into it. “I’m escorting her there now and will check on her intermittently.” She dug in her pocket to show her whistle while he still held the walkie-talkie close to his mouth. She wanted to make sure they realized she was prepared. Manny furrowed his brows for a moment but nodded when she shook the whistle and smiled broadly. “She has, uh, a whistle.”

“In case I need help,” Sadie whispered.

“In case she needs help,” Manny repeated.

Static-filled voices confirmed they’d heard his transmission and then Manny waved her forward, following her down the stairs. The house was mostly dark, lit by lamps here and there that cast pools of dim light. It was like something out of a romantic movie the way the furniture and walls blended into each other and the ambiance made Sadie think of Detective Pete Cunningham. They’d been dating for about two months, but things were going slowly. Pete hadn’t quite come to terms with his wife’s death two years ago and had yet to even kiss Sadie goodnight after one of their bi-weekly dinner dates. But here in the darkened estate, Sadie was quite sure that if she had the chance, this was exactly the type of setting she’d like to be in with Pete. Maybe she’d see if she could recreate the mood when she got home. It was good to remember that she missed him. She hoped he felt the same.

“What time are you off?” she asked Manny when they reached the double doors of the kitchen.

“Seven,” Manny said.

Sadie nodded. “I’ll do my best to have them ready for you, but I might be cutting it close.”

“I believe I’ll be back this evening, so you have plenty of time.”

“Even better!” Sadie said with a grin. “I’ll have the macaroons ready for you when you come back on shift.” Sadie pushed through the doors into the dish room, but Manny put a hand out to stop her from going any further.

“Let me look around first,” he said.

She nodded and waited while he entered the kitchen, turned on the lights, and made his way around the room.

“All clear,” Manny said when he returned after nearly a minute. “Carl is posted outside that door.” She followed his finger to the outside door of the kitchen that Lacy had disappeared through yesterday. “And I’ll continue to check on you, alright?”

“And I’ve got my whistle,” Sadie reminded him, patting her pocket.

One side of Manny’s mouth went up into a smile. “Right.”

Chocolate-Dipped Coconut Macaroons

1 2/3 cups flaked sweetened coconut* (don’t pack into measuring cup)

1/3 cup sugar

3 tablespoons flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

3 egg whites

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon almond extract

chocolate for dipping

Mix coconut, sugar, flour, and salt together in a small bowl. Set aside. Beat egg whites in a medium-sized bowl until frothy—about 30 seconds. Add extracts and mix until combined. Add coconut mixture and stir until combined. Drop by rounded teaspoonfuls onto well-greased baking sheets, parchment paper, or silicone baking sheet (macaroons are notorious for sticking to the pan). Shape with fingers so they are nice and round. Bake at 325 degrees for 18 to 20 minutes or until golden brown around the bottom edges. Let cool completely before removing from pan to prevent sticking. Dip bottom half of cookie into a bowl of melted chocolate.