Cornish Sweets and Wedding Treats Read online

  Cornish Sweets and Wedding Treats

  By Laura Briggs

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2020 Laura Briggs

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com to purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Image: “Cornish Bake Off.” Original art, “Country House” by Marrishuanna, and “Country house” and “Sweet treats” by Elena Mikhaylova. Used with permission. http://www.dreamstime.com/

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  Dear Readers,

  There’s nothing sweeter than a heartfelt reunion, especially one involving cakes, chocolates, and other delectable goodies. And with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, the timing couldn’t be better for event planner Julianne and her friends in Ceffylgwyn to welcome back the crew of their favorite reality baking show.

  It was a real treat (pun intended!) to bring back the dashing Pierre Dupine and inscrutable Harriet Hardy as the competition’s tough but fair judges. And Dinah, the former chef of Cliffs House, is back as well and facing her fiercest competition yet in a pool of former baking champions. There are new faces to meet in the form of the show’s comical celebrity hosts, Pet and Kimmie, as well as the Cornish village’s new police sergeant, the boyishly attractive Charlie – who’s determined to make a good impression in the name of law and order and police helpfulness and doesn’t quite realize the effect he has on Ceffylgwyn’s single female population.

  And, of course, being nearly Valentine’s Day, it would be amiss if Cupid’s arrow didn’t take aim for at least one of Julianne’s eligible friends. This time, will it glance off handsome chef Michael when he finds himself tutoring the cooking-challenged Kimmie as a result of Julianne’s kind intentions? Or perhaps the chemistry between judges Pierre and Harriet will finally blossom into something more than that of fellow chefs and former colleagues?

  Whatever else happens, it’s certain that Julianne will steal some time alone with hubby Matt before the most romantic day of the year is crossed off their calendar … and the last slice of gorgeous wedding cake is consumed.

  So feel free to brew a cup of tea, grab a favorite treat, and lose yourself in the cosiest read of the season!

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter One

  In the village of Ceffylgwyn, no matter which side of the debate you join regarding the village name — Anglicized Welsh versus Old Cornish, for example — one thing everyone agrees on is village pride, especially when it comes to celebrations. A place this quiet still knows how to embrace the spirit of a party, even on February's doorstep, which is good news for an event planner like me.

  The latest excitement, however, has nothing directly to do with me, although I was lucky enough to be a part of it in a small way. Posters for The Grand Baking Extravaganza had pride of place in shop windows, especially the fish and chips and pasty shop. Bright party flags in Valentine red and pink were strung across shop fronts, and a banner was in the works to welcome the return of one of the country's favorite reality programs, which had inspired a baking craze here nine years ago, when the manor house hosted one of its competitions and one of our own walked away with top honors.

  "Isn't it exciting?" said Lady Amanda, as we walked past the greengrocer's, where one of the owner's daughters was tying a bright string of party banners just above its display window, which also featured one of the posters for the upcoming 'welcoming fete' for the program's contestants and crew. "You can positively smell it in the air these days."

  I sniffed, catching the cooking grease from the pasty shop and the cool air of a winter afternoon warmed slightly by the sun. "Does it smell like tourism?" I kidded, since Lady A's real penchant wasn't that of charming titled hostess but village business and public relations promoter on a local level. That's why she hired me in the first place all those years ago — to be the person who worried about the details big and little behind the manor's events.

  "Of course it does," said Lady Amanda. "This is a fantastic opportunity for the village — things like this don't land in your lap once in a lifetime, much less twice. Our beautiful scenery and our lovely little village's shops and businesses featured as side players — including your business, I might remind you." She gave me a look as she tucked the blanket more securely around her newborn baby in its pram, just before her son Edwin trotted up and tossed in a packet of candy that the shopkeeper's daughter had tossed him as a gift.

  "Edwin, do not toss things on little Charles!" scolded Lady Amanda. Her older son shrugged his shoulders and ran on by towards Pete the publican's wife, who was walking their friendly Irish setter.

  Amanda sighed. "I can't make him behave on this subject," she said. "He's been terribly rebellious since little Charles was born — and so sullen."

  "Natural resentment," I said. "Not every kid wants a baby brother or sister right away, after all. Sylvie thought she did, before she actually laid eyes on Heath. Suddenly he was just a rival for mummy and daddy's time and attention." My daughter had been excited about being a 'big sister' until she realized what the role truly entailed.

  "I'll do what every mother does and blame myself," said Lady Amanda, digging a mini chocolate bar from her purse and unwrapping it, a pregnancy habit that had not yet died. "I've been far too busy with the welcoming fete and all the new p-r plans for capitalizing on the publicity this will bring us. Even Wallace Darnley has decided to spruce his boat shed and paint a new sign for his coastal cruises."

  "That is progress." Wallace, a crusty old fishing boat captain, had oft complained that tourists were too critical about 'a bit o' paint peelin' and salt crush' on his headquarters when they came by to schedule a pleasure cruise along the harbor coast.

  "Isn't it? And you can imagine the enthusiasm with Lily Hammond at the tea house, the inn and even the pub — Pete's place with its rustic charm, or however we'll describe it on the website. And as for yours — you should expect a very decent number of people who want to be married in that charming spot where the contest was filmed."

  "Only part of the contest," I reminded her. "But Kitty and I are hoping we'll score a few bookings from fans after it airs this summer." Next June might find us busier than we'd ever been since my former assistant and I had become business partners under one shop roof, pairing our different skills and renovating a beautiful old barn as our very own event space.

  An exciting few months had passed since its debut wedding, during which time we'd only hosted a fundraising night for a local dance studio. We had landed a posh wedding courtesy of our close friend and local tourism promoter Cherish, but it was months away from its 'I do.' The Grand Baking Extravaganza's decision had been an opportunity we didn't see coming, the dream event to fill the gap for us.

  Much like the first
time it had rolled into the village, and brought significant changes into our lives. Our friend and former Cliffs House chef Dinah had used her winning honors to open her own bakery, which marked the beginning of Michael's tenure as chef. Kitty's future husband had found his opportunity to tell her for the first time that he was attracted to her, finding a way through that prickly personality designed to keep everybody at bay. I discovered that my baking skills are best left unmentioned at parties as one of my talents.

  Lady Amanda tucked her infant son in more securely as a little cold breeze rippled by, the tiny little baby face scrunching, then relaxing in sleep beneath the little knit sock monkey cap he wore. I wondered how many hair bows and pink outfits had been tucked away with a sigh of disappointment by Amanda — but only a tiny one. Little Charles had erased all the others.

  At the lane crossing, we spotted the other Charlie in our lives these days — the young police sergeant who was checking for parking violations near the car park for harbor visitors. He was hard to miss — young, extremely tall, thin and muscular underneath his starched blue uniform and white shirt — and a common sight for the past month or so, when the police division of Cornwall and Devon had received local complaints about multiple violations of traffic laws and youths inclined towards trespassing and vandalism.

  "Charlie!" shouted Edwin, waving his hand wildly. The young officer turned around, grinned, and tipped his cap. His face had features that were as sharp as the rest of him, defined by a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache that formed a thin, boxy frame around his mouth, but the whole effect was softened by a pair of warm grey eyes.

  It goes without saying that the rise in law enforcement presence in the village had been extremely popular with the female residents.

  "Elena Vitch and Cherish are approving the welcome banner this week," said Amanda, as she snagged Edwin's sleeve and reeled him away from the pavement's edge as a bus rolled by. "Can we count on you and Kitty to pitch in as volunteers for the fete? I know you'll be terribly busy, but we can't seem to find enough hands to fill all the tasks."

  "Of course we will," I said. "If Nathan will let Kitty, that is." Her pregnancy was making him extra protective when it came to things like overexertion, even though Kitty was clearly capable of looking after herself.

  "Good. Shall I put you down for the baking crew? We can't have enough biscuits and sponge for the tea tent — Edwin, stop pulling the blanket off your brother! Do you want him to freeze?"

  Baking. Erm... this wasn't quite what I had in mind, hoping for something that better featured my skills, like those I was using in my small capacity for the program — putting up festive decorations, for example.

  "It will almost feel like old times in some respects, with all of us being part of the event," said Lady Amanda.

  "Almost," I answered. Strange how things come full circle in life, really. Even though we had all moved on with our lives, we would almost be in the same roles as the first time this program visited the village. In my case, my marriage had a few more miles and dents in its otherwise-lovely self, and two kids would now help themselves to all the leftover desserts the contest might gift me.

  At least one thing hadn't changed: this was still the perfect setting for a grand baking competition.

  ___________________

  Three months earlier ....

  "Guess what I have in my hand," said Nathan, entering the barn, where Kitty and I were discussing ideas for the dance studio's 'French Riviera' nights theme.

  "Another list of baby names?" said Kitty, arching one eyebrow. She had mentioned recently that Nathan had been keen on discussing what to call their first child. I was willing to bet he'd already bought The Ultimate Worldwide Guide to Baby Names or a similar title to help them in their search.

  "Better," said Nathan, "although I think we'd better pick before we spend Christmas with your mom or mine, because they'll both have plenty of suggestions." Kitty made a face to this, which Nathan mirrored, sympathetically. "Anyway, what I have in my hand is something exciting for your business, not for our future family."

  "What?" I asked, puzzled, as he handed it over, then tucked his hands in the pockets of his wool overcoat, looking pleased as he watched our faces.

  "This ... this is a contract," I said, reading over the first few lines. "To give permission for our venue to be used ... for The Grand Baking Extravaganza?"

  My eyes were wide when I looked up, and Kitty took the contract from me, scanning it quickly herself. "There's a site permit slip here for filming a television program," she said, turning the page.

  "How — why?" I thought my jaw must have dropped a little, as Nathan grinned wider.

  "The Grand Baking Extravaganza is coming to town around February to film another one of those 'best of' competitive match-ups again," said Nathan. "This one's theme is 'A Grand Wedding Extravaganza' with all wedding-inspired challenges. When I heard they were coming back to the site of the Cornish challenge to tape this one, I got in contact with a friend of mine who knows their location scout, and sent them a list of places they might could use, and this was one of them. Local wedding venue, wedding cake bakers — it was a marriage made for television."

  "Our barn is their set," I said. "I can't believe it."

  "As it happens, they might need a little bit of help from your agency," he replied.

  "Us?" repeated Kitty. "What for? There's not somebody getting married on the program, is there?"

  "No, but with the whole wedding theme. Besides the venue, I mean. We're not talking much money here, but the producers like the idea of having some local wedding planners as consultants, to help out with the decor and the setting and so on. Stuff like that."

  "You are amazing, Nathan." I put my arms around him and gave him a hug. "Thank you so much."

  He blushed. "It was just a little perk of the job," he said. "All I did was make a couple of phone calls and email a couple of photos — technically the location scout has to take the credit for seeing this spot's potential."

  "You're decent enough," said Kitty to him, with a pleased smile as she tweaked his chin. Nathan's gaze lit up like Christmas. "This is decent enough, too," she said, handing me back the contract.

  "I'm glad you think so," he answered, putting his arms around her, smiling down into her eyes. "Just don't wear yourself out doing stuff for them, got it?"

  She scoffed. "I'm taking things decently. I eat those healthy foods recommended in all the books and take the vitamins you bought at the health shop in London." A wrinkle in the bridge of Kitty's nose attested to her feelings about some of these things.

  "Yeah, but we're getting closer," said Nathan.

  "The baby won't be ruddy born until spring," said Kitty. "It's not even Christmas."

  "Any word on the contestants?" I asked Nathan, to change the subject before this argument could become a serious one.

  "Sorry, that's not my area of expertise," said Nathan. "Event promoters worry about the big details, not the specific ones. Probably I know somebody who knows which former contestants have been invited."

  Kitty and I looked at each other, clearly thinking the same thing. "They wouldn't host a reunion show in Cornwall and not ask the Cornish champion, would they?" I asked.

  Chapter Two

  "I'm as nervous as kittens finding a hoover in the hall, as usual," said Dinah, sipping her tea. "But I'm a bit excited by the concept. I've done my bit when it comes to wedding cakes, so I won't be in unfamiliar waters, at least. You've seen me at my best, so you can judge how good my odds are of winning."

  "Excellent, in my opinion," I said, pouring myself a cuppa, then making more room for the pot on my crowded table. "I still remember the creativity you poured into the winning bakes for the last contest. And the groom's cake you made for Constance's wedding — you took my idea of a Buche de Noel as a woodland log and turned it into a work of art."

  That log cake had been beautiful, even better than my original sketches. But the beautiful passion flower
cake inspired by chocolate gateau had been so gorgeous and scrumptious that it stole the judges' taste buds during the original contest in Cornwall, and I could well imagine that she could create something equally great this time.

  "Biscuit?" I passed her the plate, knowing that my shop biscuits were a far cry from the ones she used to make in Cliffs House's kitchen, where I used to savor her ginger linzer sandwich cookies with marmalade filling.

  "No, thank you. I had a bite to eat on my way here. My friend Callie treated me to lunch at a bistro. She wanted to hear more about the competition, not that I know many details — there's precious little they tell us, so we rely on rumors on the internet message boards."

  She poured a second cup of tea and added sugar. "Rumor has it that some sort of third party will be involved in setting the challenges. Somebody's heard that the basket challenge won't be in play this time, either."

  "Is the competition steep?" I asked, munching a bite from the biscuit on the willow plate, discovering that it was a tad stale — one of my kids had left the package unsealed last afternoon teatime, apparently. Definitely not a patch on Dinah's recipes.

  "Always is, or the program wouldn't be as good as it is," said Dinah, stoutly. "I didn't watch the series with Lana — she's the media career woman turned baking mum a few years ago, has one of those internet video channels about baking. I watched the one with the old school baker Ewan, the one who made everything look like a Viennese Empire fantasy in pink, and he'll be stiff competition."

  "I remember him," I said. "The Somerset episodes. He made a wedding cake for the finale, didn't he?" His tray for the surprise bake had been perfect petit fours made out of sandwiched biscuits covered in chocolate ganache and miniature pastel taffy flowers shaped by hand with a toothpick. I had wondered if the powerful bifocals he wore had made it possible for him to make those tiny petals.