Page 39 of A Billionaire for Christmas

LOVE IS A MISUNDERSTANDING BETWEEN TWO FOOLS

The first person Molly bumped into as she tiptoed along the corridor with a giant binbag full of noisy, clinking empty bottles was Levi.

‘Don’t ask,’ she said, heading off any sarcastic comments.

‘To be honest,’ Levi said, eyeing the bag, ‘I thought there would be more. You seem the type who can put quite a lot away.’

If he didn’t look so deadpan, she would have suspected he was teasing her. ‘Do I?’ With the exception of the hunting lodge and the Cigar Lounge, Molly had barely touched a drop. ‘Maybe it’s you. Maybe you drive me to drink.’

Levi’s expression softened. ‘I deserved that. Let me help.’

‘Okay, here. Take this.’ Molly handed him the Gucci handbag.

‘What is it?’ Levi weighed it in his hand. It was heavy.

‘It’s a bag of sick.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ It only took him a nanosecond to work it out. ‘Are these from Freda’s room?’

Molly hesitated a fraction. There was no point trying to cover for her. ‘I’m going to see if I can help take her mind off drinking. I have an idea that might work.’

‘What’s wrong? Why does she need to drink? She’s got a wedding to plan and loads of things to keep her occupied.’

‘I think she could really use some brotherly advice. Maybe you could talk to her?’

Levi, slightly bewildered, held the bag at arm’s length. ‘I’ll add it to my list.’

* * *

The next person Molly bumped into down the corridor was Armand. He looked terribly distracted.

‘ Bonjour , Monsieur LeRoux,’ she said politely, hoping he wouldn’t notice the clanking bottles. ‘Can I get you anything?’

It was almost as though he hadn’t heard her.

‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.

His tone remained serious. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘I wondered if I might ask you something. Personal.’

He looked at her blankly. ‘How personal?’

‘What were wedding banquets like when you got married here in France? Are they very different to America or Britain?’

It was as though she had flicked a switch.

‘Ah, French gastronomy is the best. And weddings are no exception. You have the traditional foie gras and champagne tower of course.’ Armand chuckled.

‘We had the highest croquembouche anyone had ever seen. But it was the magret de canard that stole the show. It melted on the tongue. I can taste it now. And the plum and sloe jus. Heaven.’ Armand stopped talking.

As he fished about in his blazer jacket for his handkerchief to wipe his brow, she noticed the top of a tablet box peeking out from inside a pocket. It rattled as he searched.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Your breathing seems a bit laboured.’

He frowned with concern. ‘Does it?’

‘My mother is a nurse. We cared for my dad when he had a heart attack a few years ago. He’s fine now, but we’re always watching him like a hawk for signs of another.’

Armand flinched, as though he had seen a ghost. He grabbed Molly’s arm as he dabbed his brow. ‘Don’t tell a single soul.’ He marched off back to his room yelling, ‘Can someone sort this bloody Wi-Fi out? I’m in the middle of a game!’

* * *

By the time Molly had dumped the bottles round the back of the lodge by the bins, made up all the beds, except in Levi’s room, and Freda’s who she overheard weeping, and tidied everyone’s lunch dishes away, it was almost time to prep for the special parents’ dinner.

Lucca walked into the kitchen area looking ready to help. ‘Something smells divine.’

Molly tossed him an apron. ‘I wondered when you’d turn up. There’s still quite a lot to do. It’ll take all afternoon to prepare for the degustation tonight. I’ve managed to find out a few things from your father but there’s a lot more I need to know about them for the plan to work.’

‘We’ve got no chance of getting Levi to give us a hand.’ Lucca tied the apron strings loosely round his waist. ‘He’s working.’

All Molly could do was blush at the sound of his name. They had so much unfinished business.

‘He likes you, by the way.’ Lucca beamed kindly. ‘I can tell.’

If only that were true.

‘I think you’ll find he hates me at the moment.’

‘What do they say? There’s a fine line between love and hate. Besides, no one else gets away with talking to him like you do. You seem to be immune to his grouchiness. Whereas it’s like a red flag to a bull for me.’

Molly cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, where’s Freda? Didn’t she say that she’d help too?’

Lucca looked out of the window. ‘Maybe she went skiing with Toby. Or knowing those two, they’ll be in the wine cellar.’

At the mention of Toby’s name, Molly bit down an angry comment. He had hung her out to dry earlier and hadn’t yet come to apologise. Something must have shown on her face because Lucca hesitated before changing the subject abruptly. ‘Or the spa. Who knows where she is?’

‘I’m here,’ said a rough-looking Freda, dark circles under her eyes. ‘I went back to sleep for your information, my nosy brother.’

‘Until two in the afternoon?’ Lucca asked.

‘We’re on holiday. In the middle of a series of storms. With dodgy Wi-Fi.’ Freda rubbed both hands up and down her face. Her skin looked grey, her eyes dull and her hair matted. ‘Sleeping is pretty much all there is to do here.’

Sleeping and drinking through a broken heart. Molly sympathised.

Molly threw her a spare apron. ‘Please tie your hair up. Wash your hands thoroughly. And then we’ll get started preparing the rest of the degustation for your parents.

I need to know all their favourite dishes.

’ She went straight to the blender and whizzed up a mix of salty and sweet ingredients, greens and fruit.

‘Drink this.’ She handed Freda a glass of green sludge.

‘It’s full of electrolytes. It’ll give you a boost.’

Freda accepted the hangover drink with a guilty grace.

‘Now, the plan is to tell a story across all ten courses. Starting with when your parents first met. We’ll match the food to the questions in the game. Let’s get planning.’

Lucca and Freda did exactly as they were told and before long, several dishes were being meticulously assembled. Molly had shown them how to poach, blanch, baste, sauté, reduce, infuse, ferment and pickle under her strict guidance.

‘It’s like watching someone perform open-heart surgery,’ commented Lucca. ‘You should open your own school.’

Molly invited them both to taste examples of each one. ‘With tasting menus, the secret is to kind of roll the food around your mouth. Savour each unique aroma. Appreciate the balance of flavours on your palate. Give your brain a chance to explore each sensation, each texture.’

‘This looks and tastes incredible,’ commented Lucca, picking up a delicate multi-coloured roll, infused with mint and bergamot oil. ‘You have such skill. It’s a veritable feast for the eyes. No wonder people are clamouring to secure your services.’

Molly blushed and shrugged off the compliment. ‘We’ll do the hot courses as we serve later, but we still need wines to go with each one. Any ideas?’

Lucca grinned. ‘Leave it to me. I’m a trained sommelier. One of my many talents.’

‘One of his only talents. Unless you call international playboy a talent?’ Freda said, throwing an olive at him. ‘You literally just go from party to party across the globe.’

‘I run a wine company. We cater big events. How is that being a playboy?’ Lucca winked at Molly. ‘Although it is a lot of fun. At least I have a job.’ He threw an olive back at Freda.

‘Wait. You knew that the wine last night was…’ Molly couldn’t believe the audacity.

‘I’m afraid so, yes.’ Lucca did not look even slightly embarrassed. ‘And I have to say, it wasn’t all that, was it?’

‘But why didn’t you say anything to Toby when he brought it up from the cellar?’ Molly was growing exasperated with this family.

‘Because I wanted to see what it was like.’ Lucca shrugged. ‘For professional reasons, obviously. And just as well, really. Freeds, honey, I think you should reconsider that vintage. I really do.’

‘And are you going to tell your mother that you opened the wine on purpose?’ Molly put her hands on her hips. ‘Or at least come clean to Toby. He thinks it was all his fault. Although, he seems extraordinarily comfortable for me to take the blame.’

‘Christ, no. Imagine the fuss! I’m in enough trouble as it is. Now, Freda, darling, what are you going to do with your life after the wedding? How many scrawny nieces and nephews am I to expect?’

It was as though Molly had become invisible yet again.

Freda stared out of the window as though in a trance. ‘I’m still thinking about options. It’s hard when you don’t know which country you’ll be living in. Or what you want to do. Where do I even start?’

Molly gave Freda a supportive stroke on the arm. She appreciated her predicament. ‘You could start with picking up those olives.’

‘Funny.’ Freda laughed as though Molly wasn’t serious and threw an olive at her too. ‘I like you. I like you a lot.’

Exasperating. The lot of them.

‘What will you do next, Molly? After the season ends?’ Lucca asked her. He too was making no move to pick up the olives.

Molly stopped piping quince glaze onto tiny slivers of Manchego cheese and bent to pick them up herself.

‘If your mother doesn’t have me slung in jail for wine theft, I’ll get my restaurant business back up and running.

Before your brother can get his hands on it.

’ There were only two days left to get everything to the solicitor.

With all the distractions this family were providing, it was beginning to seem less and less likely.

She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt as she threw the olives in the bin.

‘Please stop throwing food at each other.’

Lucca grinned in response. ‘Well, if these dishes are anything to go by, you’ll have no problem bringing clients in.’