Chapter 3: The Taste Daniel Remembered
The bride reached for the phone.
“Daniel, give me that.”
Daniel moved it out of her reach.
“Answer my question, Vanessa.”
Vanessa looked around at the silent guests.
“Not here.”
“You chose to humiliate Camilla here.
You can explain yourself here.”
Camilla set the tray on a nearby table before her shaking hands dropped it.
“I didn’t know the recipe meant anything to you,” she said.
Daniel looked at her.
“The orange cream.
The toasted almonds.
My mother made that cake every year on my birthday.”
Vanessa gave a brittle laugh.
“Exactly.
I found Eleanor’s recipe and asked Camilla to reproduce it.”
“That isn’t what you told me,” Camilla said.
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“Be careful.”
“You said it was your family recipe.
You said your fiancé had never tasted it.”
A woman near the front stepped away from the guests.
Her silver hair was pinned neatly at her neck, but her face had gone pale.
“Let me taste it,” she said.
Daniel turned.
“Aunt Margaret?”
Margaret lifted one cupcake from the tray and broke it in half.
She tasted the filling, closed her eyes, and gripped the table.
“This didn’t begin with Eleanor.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“You can’t identify a recipe from one bite.”
“I stood beside Eleanor when she learned it.”
“From whom?” Daniel asked.
Margaret looked directly at Camilla.
“A woman named Rose Bennett.”
Camilla’s breath caught.
“That was my mother.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Your mother knew mine?”
“Apparently better than either of us knew.”
Vanessa stepped closer to Camilla.
“This is absurd.
You delivered a cake, and now you’re inventing a connection to Daniel’s family.”
“I haven’t invented anything.”
“Then prove it.”
“My mother kept every recipe in a blue notebook.
This one had two sets of handwriting—hers and another woman’s.”
Margaret touched Camilla’s wrist.
“Eleanor wrote in green ink.
She always did.”
Camilla nodded slowly.
“The notes in the margins were green.”
Daniel turned on Vanessa.
“How did you know about that notebook?”
“I didn’t.”
“You told Camilla I could never know who the recipe belonged to.”
“I wanted the cake to remind you of your mother.
I was planning to explain after the party.”
“Then why did you claim it was your family’s recipe?”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
“Because I wanted one evening that wasn’t about Eleanor.
Is that so terrible?”
“No,” Camilla said.
“But hiding the baker and lying about her work is.”
“You were paid.”
“To bake it.
Not to disappear.”
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“Take your money and go before you embarrass yourself further.”
Daniel stepped between them.
“You don’t speak to her that way.”
Vanessa pulled off her engagement ring, held it between two fingers, then closed her fist around it.
“You’re defending a stranger over the woman you’re supposed to marry?”
“I’m asking for the truth.”
“And if I refuse?”
Daniel held her gaze.
“Then this party is over.”
A murmur moved across the room.
Vanessa looked toward the guests, and her expression changed.
“Fine.
Show everyone your notebook, Camilla.”
“It’s at my bakery.”
“How convenient.”
Camilla picked up her phone.
“My assistant is closing tonight.
She can photograph the page.”
She called twice.
On the third attempt, Wren answered.
“Camilla, where are you?”
“At Whitmore Hall.
I need you to open the blue notebook and find the orange-almond cake.”
There was a long silence.
“Wren?”
“The notebook isn’t here.”
Camilla gripped the edge of the table.
“It’s always in the locked drawer.”
“I know.
The drawer is open.”
Vanessa’s lips curved into the smallest smile.
May you like
Then Wren spoke again.
“Camilla, the notebook is gone.”
