Chapter 4
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The games rich men play confuse me.
Clara
I squeak as Lukas puts five bags of flour in the shopping cart. After barely surviving the furniture store, where he ordered me an entire room set for several thousand dollars; and the homegoods store, where he kept grabbing random things I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with, I am uncertain whether or not I will survive the final stop for today.
The grocery store.
SunMart—with its earthy shades, warm decor, and elite curation of products—is a dream come true. It’s goteverythingI have ever wanted to try to cook or bake. Rye flour. Semolina. Almond. I’mobsessedwith the diversity of selection. Though we’ve started in dry goods, the mere glimpse of the cheese and dairy section has me fantasizing recipes I never have been able to entertain.
At home, Brent cooks. I clean up after him. WheneverIwant to try anything, the ingredients are too expensive, or “that’s really moreBrent’sthing, isn’t it?” There’s a reason I never went to culinary school, and that reason is because it was too expensive to send us…both.
So…they sent Brent.
And I settled in decorating cakes and cookies at the bakery—a job that required no previous education. They sentBrent, but now he just experiments in the kitchen at home. Because, turns out, culinary ishard. And being a chef or a baker isharder. It’slong hours in stressful environments lugging heavy equipment from one classroom to the next.
After two weeks of whining about how veryhardit all was, he dropped out. Gave up. Let an opportunity I’dkillfor slip through his fingers.
And I was selfish for asking if that meant I could have a chance. I was selfish, and ignorant, and completely cruel to ignore the student loans my parents would still have to pay back for him.
But the worst part is Iknewhow horrible it was for me to ask. Iknew, but I still did. On the slim chance something might come of it.
I would doanythingfor the opportunity he had. I would doanythingto experiment in the kitchen, spending all my time making pastries and baked goods, like he does.
I would doanything.
Or…maybe I wouldn’t, actually, because I am staring at five bags of unbleached flour, dying to get the rye and almond and bread and pastry instead, while saying absolutely nothing.
I could plan to makefresh pastaif I just find the gall to ask for the semolina.
Unfortunately, gall is something I do not possess.
In go several bags of white sugar…not a single bag of brown…
I want yeast. Ineedyeast. Lukas gives me many containers of baking powder.
I need baking soda, too… I…
He has already moved on.
So I swallow my wants, my wishes, my needs, and move on, too.
“Cupcake,” he says, stopping the cart to fix his gaze on me, “you cannot possibly need seven things of baking powder.”
That is such an apt assessment, Lukas, sir. Gold star for you.
He sighs. “I let it slide at the other stores because your silence meant I could spoil you rotten, but I’m out of my depth here. I’m quite certain I’m plain just not being helpful at this point. Correct me.Now.”
My stomach flops. “Correct…you?”
He waves a hand at the menagerie in the cart. “Call me an idiot. Fix the mess I’m making. What even is all this? I don’t know what you need. Put stuff back. Grab other stuff. Whack me in the head. Tell me how wrong I am. You know what you’re doing. I don’t.”
I actually don’t know what I’m doing, since I haven’t yet looked up a single recipe. But…I suppose I do know that I don’t need seven baking powders. Believing it shouldn’t be this hard to speak up, and blaming my chest for making my heart rate as high as it is, I say, “Well, maybe we can get a baking soda and put all but one of the baking powders back?” Also, brown sugar. I’d love to experiment with mixing white and brown sugar in recipes for optimal moisture and flavor profile depth. Plus the flour… I don’t need this many white flours, but the kinds I want are more expensive, which does not at all seem to be a concern, but—
Lukas wheels the cart around, puts six of the baking powders back, grabs a soda, and then promptly begins taking one of everything else off the shelves.
