Page 80 of Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall
Adam smiled and Marc felt somewhat better.
‘I just had a call fromThe Hollywood Reporter. They said that Avian has sold the show to Netflix. If that’s true, Cirrus will lose most of its value.’
Adam sat down. ‘Shit? Really? I thought she had signed. She said she had signed.’
‘I need you to look into this, because if we loseBlind Baking, we lose a huge drawcard for onsell.’
Adam was already tapping on his phone. ‘Let me send some emails and make some calls.’
*
Christa couldn’t understand it. She had done everything perfectly for the soufflé but the rise wasn’t there. It smelled okay but didn’t have the same richness that Simon’s was emanating when they had taken them from the oven.
‘Look at that,’ said Simon proudly as he carefully took the dish from the oven.
Christa followed suit and nearly cried at her soufflé. She had put everything into it and this was all she could manage. It was okay, it was passable but it wasn’t anything like she had expected.
‘I hope your bags are packed,’ Simon sang as he dusted the dish with icing sugar and put a small bowl of cream on the side.
Christa felt tears prick her eyes as she dusted hers with sugar and put some cream on the side. The dishes were moved to serving plates and the twins stepped forward to take them to Marc.
‘Off you go, boys,’ said Avian, looking smug.
Christa leaned against the bench and sighed.
This was the worst soufflé she had ever made and she simply couldn’t understand it at all.
She had cooked with love, with the best ingredients and had been detailed in every way in her technique and measurements and she had a soufflé that wasn’t half of what Simon had produced.
She untied her apron and put it on the counter.
‘You off to pack?’ asked Simon and she turned to him. ‘Wasn’t one of your finest ones,’ he said.
She looked at him, wondering what she had ever seen in him.
‘Oh bite your bum, Simon,’ she said and she went upstairs to pack.
*
The knock at the door came and Adam opened it for the twins who were standing solemnly with their plates.
Each one with a soufflé and cream and the name of the twin carrying it was written on a piece of paper in their handwriting, taped to the plate.
‘Come in,’ Adam said and Marc watched them carefully carry the dishes to his side.
‘We can’t tell you whose is whose,’ said Seth.
‘I know,’ said Marc. ‘You can go now.’ He smiled at the boys as they left the room.
He looked at the dishes. One was considerably taller than the other and the scent was delicious.
That was definitely Christa’s he thought. He tasted it and then took another bite. And then another.
‘Don’t eat all of it – you will feel sick,’ reprimanded Adam.
‘This is seriously good.’ He gestured to the soufflé. ‘Do you know who cooked which one?’ he asked but Adam shook his head.
‘I didn’t see them come out of the oven,’ he said. ‘And I wouldn’t tell you anyway. It’s attorney-client privilege.’
