Christmas in London Page 6

  “I was just finishing a card to Ellie’s daughter, Chloe.” Louisa pointed to the card next to the menu. “I promised I’d send her a Christmas recipe every day. When I get home we’re going to bake them together.” She picked up the embossed stationery. “Today’s recipe is for Gingerbread Sweaters, I found it in a cooking magazine at the hotel gift shop. You spread the gingerbread biscuits with white icing and green and red sprinkles. It resembles a Christmas sweater and it’s so festive.”

  “That’s a lovely gesture. Chloe is lucky to have you as a friend.” Kate glanced at the card and then looked at Louisa. “You look lovely. Noah’s shopping expedition was a success.”

  “I still feel guilty about abandoning him at Harrods,” Louisa admitted. “But I’m a chef. I don’t need my hair lightened or my eyebrows shaped or an Asprey watch. People will only be interested in whether my croquembouche is sweet and flaky and melts in your mouth.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Kate asked.

  “No one cared what Virginia Woolf wore to write Mrs. Dalloway, and Tchaikovsky could have been sitting at the piano in his pajamas when he composed The Nutcracker,” Louisa said earnestly. “I’m not comparing myself to them of course; I’m just a pastry chef. But I did attend cooking school and I’m serious about what I do. The only thing that is important is what comes out of the oven.”

  “Baking with Bianca is seen by millions of viewers and everything on the set has to be pleasing. We can go through three cartons of ice cream getting a shot of a banana cream parfait, because the ice cream keeps melting. The lighting has to be perfect on a holiday log or it looks like a plain loaf of bread.” Kate paused. “No one wants to see Bianca in sweatpants and sneakers. She has to be like the food she presents: polished and lovely so you can’t take your eyes off her.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Louisa hesitated.

  “This wool dress itches but the hotel maid took my other dresses and hasn’t returned them. I can’t stand wearing panty hose and I’d much rather leave my hair down,” Kate continued. “But when I meet the producer at BBC One, I’m representing the show. Right now you are the star of Baking with Bianca and you have to do what everyone on television does: make the camera fall in love with you.”

  “I feel like an ungrateful child,” Louisa said guiltily. “I’m so lucky to be here. Any chef would kill to be part of Christmas Dinner at Claridge’s.”

  “I don’t expect you to master everything at once.” Kate smiled. “But this job is important to Noah and he discovered you. If the network executives aren’t happy, he could get fired.”

  “I would hate Noah to get in trouble, from now on I’ll stick to the script,” Louisa said. “The hairdresser can make my hair stand up like a soufflé and I’ll get those French nails that look so perfect they must be fake.” She looked at Kate. “I do have a question. How do you keep your panty hose from falling down?”

  Kate glanced around to make sure no one heard her. “Reversible Scotch tape around the waist.”

  Louisa laughed and signaled to the waiter. “I’ll have to try it.”

  * * *

  They shared a tomato omelet and talked about Claridge’s. The doorman could make a reservation at any restaurant in London and the concierge kept tickets to The Nutcracker at Covent Garden in his desk. Louisa stirred cream into her coffee and saw a man standing under the arch.

  “This is a very appealing picture.” Noah approached the table. “Baccarat water glasses and Waterford china and a silver bread basket of raisin scones.”

  “Would you like to join us?” Kate offered.

  “I thought you’d never ask. My expense account only stretches to Starbucks coffee and a sticky bun.” He grinned and turned to Louisa. “I’m surprised to see you up this early. I was afraid I was going to have to instruct the maids to fill your bath with ice water.”

  “I took your advice and didn’t let myself go to sleep until 10:00 p.m.,” Louisa said. “I slept like a baby and feel completely refreshed.”

  “I’m glad. We have a busy schedule.” Noah consulted his clipboard. “After the interview with BBC One, you have a hair appointment at Taylor Taylor. I had to promise Daniel Galvin two tickets to Hamilton when he’s in New York, but he agreed to reschedule your makeup.” He paused. “In the afternoon we’ll film you at the Tate and finish at the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. You will sample bratwurst in the Bavarian village and sip coffee with schnapps in the après-ski chalet. Oh, and I spoke to the concierge and instructed them to send all postcards to Ellie and Chloe by overnight mail,” he said to Louisa. “Chloe should receive the first card tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Louisa beamed. “I appreciate it.”

  “I changed the Winter Wonderland to this evening,” Kate cut in. “Digby Bunting called. He offered to show Louisa the Winter Wonderland. He thought it would make excellent footage: the top British and American pastry chefs seeing London from the Giant Observation Wheel and watching Christmas pantomimes.”

  “Digby Bunting called?” Louisa was startled. “How odd! We hardly talked about my baking at all. And I’m not the top pastry chef in America, I’m a complete nobody.”

  “Apparently Digby was quite taken with you,” Kate continued. “He was very excited about the feature. He’ll meet you in front of the Magical Ice Kingdom at 6:00 p.m.”

  “We can’t change the schedule because Digby Bunting wants to visit an amusement park,” Noah cut in. “Viewers don’t want to watch Louisa tossing a ball to win a Christmas bear. They want to see her sampling spotted dick pudding.”

  “We were going to film at Winter Wonderland this afternoon,” Louisa reminded Noah. “And you said we’re going to shoot all over London: in front of Big Ben and Westminster Palace and the British Museum.”

  “It was going to be a brief segment.” Noah stabbed his pancake. “And those are London monuments, not a giant amusement park with couples holding hands and eating fairy floss.”

  “I agree with Louisa, viewers want to see London at Christmas,” Kate said. “And we can’t turn down Digby Bunting. Our ratings will go through the roof. Every woman who watches the show while baking Christmas cookies will be glued to the television.”

  “What if Digby wants his own camera crew or isn’t happy with our microphones?” Noah demanded. “Two celebrities on the same show is a recipe for disaster.”

  “I’m not a celebrity, I’m just someone who made good cinnamon rolls,” Louisa said. “It’s very kind of him. I’d give anything to learn his secret for Lord Mayor’s Trifle. His recipe uses chocolate jelly and coconut sponge and vanilla custard, but mine always comes out too sweet.”

  “You’re worrying about nothing, it’s a fabulous idea.” Kate ate the last bite of omelet. “Why don’t you and Louisa pick out some playful accessories to wear: a Burberry scarf or some sparkling earrings?” She stood up. “I have to send a few e-mails. I’ll meet you at the television studio.” She smiled at Louisa. “I have complete confidence in you. If you can impress Digby Bunting, you are going to be dazzling on television.”

  Louisa was tempted to say she was coming down with the flu and have Kate take her place. Kate was poised and beautiful and knew everything about the show. But then she remembered Kate saying Noah’s job was on the line. She had to stop acting like a child and do everything they asked.

  “I hope so.” She drained her coffee cup and gulped. “Because I feel like a complete imposter.”

  * * *

  Louisa stood in front of the David Hockney exhibit at the Tate Britain and tried to smile. But her toes were pinched in her new pumps and the cashmere dress was too warm and she had been smiling so long, her face froze.

  Tears filled her eyes and she realized it was more than that. No matter what she did, Noah wasn’t happy. When she asked what was wrong, he just consulted his clipboard and hurried to the next location.

  It started this morning at the BBC One morning show. After she got used to the b
right lights and director talking into her earpiece, she actually enjoyed herself. The host, Maryanne, was lovely and they talked about the difference between British and American desserts. Louisa promised to send her a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting when she returned to New York.

  Noah joined her in the green room after the show and criticized the way she had fiddled with her hair. Her forehead had been shiny and she kept crossing her legs.

  He even reprimanded her for telling Maryanne how many pounds of butter to use in a New York cheesecake recipe when the British measured in grams. Louisa retorted she never measured in grams in her life. Noah said it was her job to do research and get it right for the television audience.

  She tried to make it up to him by letting the stylist at Taylor Taylor do whatever he liked with her hair. She didn’t complain when she had to sit for an hour under a plastic shower cap, or when the girl washing her hair got her neck stuck in the sink.

  She had to admit her new haircut was lovely! It fell just under her chin and framed her face. Her eyes seemed larger and the uneven ends were smooth and glossy. She thought Noah would be pleased, but he grumbled it had taken too long and they were behind schedule.

  From the hair salon they went to Daniel Galvin’s and after lunch they visited Liberty Department Store in the West End. The windows were decorated like a life-sized dollhouse and Louisa had never seen anything so pretty. A child’s room had a sleigh bed overflowing with presents and a stuffed giraffe and pink-canopied bed. There was a drawing room with a white Christmas tree and a library filled with Peter Rabbit books.

  The interior of the store was so enchanting: glass cases filled with soft gloves and leather purses and elegant hats. Louisa tried on a red Philip Treacy hat and Noah scowled and said she’d spent hours getting her hair done, and now she messed it up.

  They stopped in Kitchen Accessories, and Louisa was dying to buy a sterling silver spoon rest or nut splitter for Ellie for Christmas. But Noah tapped at his watch and Louisa bit her lip and agreed to come back on her own time.

  It was when they reached the women’s department that Louisa knew something was wrong. She was determined to do what Kate asked and buy a festive scarf. Noah said he had to make a phone call and she had to pick one by herself. When she showed him the Liberty London scarf she chose, he said snowflakes danced on television and made her return it and get something else.

  Now she looked up at the David Hockney landscape and pretended she had never seen anything more interesting.

  “You’re standing on the wrong side of the painting,” Noah said. “And you could be more enthusiastic. You look like a schoolgirl on a very boring field trip.”

  “I was excited when we spent twenty minutes at the Turner exhibit and I looked happy when I strolled along the Thames in the freezing cold. And I looked delighted when I stood in the middle of Piccadilly Circus even though I was terrified of being hit by a double-decker bus.” She glowered. “But now my feet ache and I haven’t eaten a thing since lunch. Please get your shot so I can take a break.”

  “I would never put you in danger, the light was red and the cars weren’t moving,” Noah retorted. “This is what television is about. It looks glamorous but it can be as tiresome as watching a baseball game from nosebleed seats.”

  “I don’t mind any of it, but you found fault with everything I did,” she fumed. “You criticized my performance on the breakfast show, and you didn’t like my haircut and I chose the wrong scarf. I can’t even admire a painting to your satisfaction.”

  “Your haircut is lovely though I do miss your long hair. And Kate was very happy with your appearance on BBC One,” Noah said, stumbling. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?” Louisa asked.

  “Yesterday I couldn’t get you to try on a dress. You blew off your makeup appointment to buy French butter at Harrods Food Hall. Then you were gone from Claridge’s for so long, I thought you’d been kidnapped or run over by a bus.” His voice rose. “When actually you’d decided to visit Buckingham Palace!”

  “I apologized,” Louisa said stiffly. “I was jet-lagged and everything was brand new.”

  “I forgave you. But today you didn’t mind sitting still while Daniel Galvin applied powder and lipstick and you swooned over your new haircut like a fashion model.” He stopped. “And it’s all because Digby Bunting invited you to Winter Wonderland.”

  “What did you say?” Louisa demanded.

  “The minute Kate said his name, your ears pricked up like a puppy with a new ball,” he said.

  “I am excited to see Digby Bunting. He has been my idol since I baked my first Pavlova,” Louisa interjected. “But what does that have to do with my hair and makeup? I’m only interested in his raspberry trifle and tapioca pudding.”

  “I watched him at the cocktail reception. He’s one of those men who spends half his time looking at women and the other half gazing at his reflection in the mirror,” Noah snapped. “His assistant probably creates his recipes and he shows up to sign books. You said yourself you’re not a famous chef. The only reason he wants to be with you is so he can rub knees on the Christmas Coaster.”

  “I don’t know why you are being cruel,” Louisa gasped. “Digby Bunting is a professional and so am I. If you are quite finished, I’m going to meet him at Winter Wonderland.” She waved at the painting and strode to the exit. “I never liked David Hockney anyway, his colors are washed out.”

  “You can’t just leave.” Noah ran after her. “What good will it do if you arrive without a camera crew? The point is to film a segment of Baking with Bianca.”

  Louisa hopped into a taxi and slammed the door. She rolled down the window and glared at Noah.

  “Then I suggest you get in a taxi and follow me.”

  Louisa leaned against the vinyl and tried to stop shaking. She had been about to tell Noah she had her hair styled and her makeup done because Kate said Noah was worried about his job. But then Noah implied Digby wasn’t interested in her culinary skills, and she was so angry, she didn’t say anything at all.

  The taxi deposited her at the entrance of Winter Wonderland and she entered the park. It was like a small city with a giant Christmas tree and booths selling toys and sweets. There was a circus and a train that rode through Santa Land.

  Louisa searched for Digby but couldn’t find him. The traffic had been terrible and now it was after 6:00 p.m. What if he’d gotten tired of waiting and left?

  A man in a leather jacket walked toward her and she recognized Noah.

  “Put this on.” He handed her his jacket. “Your lips are blue and you’re shivering.”

  “No, thank you,” she said sharply. “Digby will be here any minute and your crew can start filming. It wouldn’t look professional if I’m wearing a leather jacket on television.”

  “We’re not filming,” Noah said. “Digby isn’t coming.”

  “If you called him and told him it was a bad idea, Kate will be furious,” Louisa warned him.

  “I did nothing of the sort.” He showed her his phone. “Kate forwarded me Digby’s text. Something came up and he had to reschedule.”

  “I see.” She glanced at the text and wondered why she felt deflated. “You must be glad, you have the evening off. You can ask the Theatre Desk at Claridge’s whether they have a ticket to Phantom of the Opera. I’m going to buy a snow globe for Ellie’s daughter.” She walked toward the Christmas markets. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Louisa!” Noah ran after her and handed her his jacket. “It’s freezing, you should have brought the coat we bought at Harrods. Take this. If you catch pneumonia, we can’t film tomorrow. And if you insist on staying, I’ll join you,” he said. “Kate said I’m not allowed to leave your side until I return you safely to the hotel each evening.”

  “I left my coat in the taxi by accident. I’ll call the cab company when I return to the hotel.” She accepted his jacket. “You want to explore Winter Wonderland together?”

  “Why no
t?” He shrugged. “I never have time to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center or go ice-skating in Central Park. It’ll be fun.”

  They examined fragrant candles and colorful trinkets in the Fairies Market. They drank mulled wine in the Ice Bar and marveled at the tables and chairs made of solid ice. They stood in line to see Sooty’s Children’s Show and shared a bag of caramel toffees.

  Noah suggested they ride the Giant Observation Wheel and they squeezed onto the hard seats. It stopped at the top and all of London lay before them. Big Ben sparkled with a thousand silver lights and she could see London Bridge and Westminster Abbey.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Louisa breathed. “I thought London was like a Dickens novel, but it’s the most beautiful place I’ve seen. Buckingham Palace is a fairy-tale castle and Harrods looks like the top of a wedding cake and there’s Kensington Gardens and Park Lane.”

  “I’m sorry that Digby didn’t show up.” Noah rubbed his hands. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

  “Meeting Digby Bunting was one of the reasons I came to London,” she agreed. “But he’s not why I got my nails done or spent ages choosing the right scarf.” She looked at Noah. “This morning Kate said if the network isn’t happy with me, you could lose your job. I promised I was going to do whatever anyone asked.”

  “It’s my turn to apologize,” Noah said. “You handed two trays of cinnamon rolls to a complete stranger and didn’t ask for anything for yourself in return. You agreed to fly to London at Christmas when I’m sure you had plans. Today, you were led around London like a pony at a children’s birthday party and didn’t complain.” He looked at Louisa. “I was just afraid you would be swept up by Digby’s charm and forget why you are here.”

  “Why am I here?” Louisa suddenly felt unsteady.

  “Because when viewers see you on Baking with Bianca, your restaurant is going to be a huge success,” he urged. “And because it’s Christmas and what better place to spend it than Claridge’s? You deserve heated marble floors and a sideboard set with nuts and cheeses.”