Replies to Reviews of the last chapter of "Europe":
To Lyger 0: Sometimes, indeed. But we shall see what happens with the Killer Bee investigation soon enough…
To armadas: They are getting closer…
To Cesar848: I do have a pretty good idea where this plotline is going to go from here.
To yellow 14: The dynamic between Marinette and Chloe is surprisingly fun!
Replies to Reviews of the last chapter of "Spring":
To armadas: That's a good question. And Mira's character growth has been satisfying! Also, thanks for the correction on the "United Heroez" page of the Wiki!
To yellow 14: Well, it is called "The Colossus Saga," so…
Tom stood at the bakery counter, carefully kneading the dough for the day's second batch of bread, a tray of petit fours sitting on the cooling rack, waiting to be dipped in chocolate and decorated. He wiped his forehead with the short sleeve of his shirt. He had been up since before four, with the oven running almost constantly since then, leaving the kitchen sweltering despite the cool air that seeped in through the windows. Sabine had just come in a few minutes earlier for a refill on éclairs, macaroons, and croissants – if it followed the usual Saturday routine, the midmorning rush would begin in about fifteen minutes. And they had an order to fill for a dozen specialty cakes, all to be delivered that afternoon. But fortunately, Françoise would arrive shortly to fill that order, leaving him free to focus on the rest of the usual Saturday necessities. Tom smacked the bread dough to test its firmness and nodded judiciously. With his hands he separated it into loaves and set them to the side to rise again before baking. Straightening up, he started to wipe his hands on his apron.
The kitchen door swung open with a smack. "Good morning, Papa Tom!"
Tom glanced across the kitchen to find Cosette, the little "pâtissière" that Marinette had asked him to look after, standing by the door and beaming up at him, a half-eaten croissant in her hand. "Good morning," he greeted her, smiling back. "And how are you this morning?"
"Amazing!" she replied, taking another bite of her croissant. "Maman saw the doctor yesterday, and he said that she's all better now! You remember last week I said my brother loves football? Well, I don't know how he knew to do it – or that it was Mathie's birthday this week – but it's so awesome! M. Adrien dropped off a football for him on Tuesday, so this morning he went out to play with some of the kids in the apartment building next door! M. Gorilla dropped of a bunch more books this morning, and I started reading one – that's why I'm so late today. I–"
"Child," Tom interrupted her gently, putting a hand on her shoulder and cutting off her babble, "you didn't need to be here for another 45 minutes!"
"I know." She nodded, wide-eyed. "But I wanted to be early." She grinned eagerly. "Are we going to make croissants today?"
"What's that in your hand?" Tom shook his head, grinning ruefully. "I don't want you to pan-ic, but the croissants are already done for today. But tell you what," he continued, seeing her face fall, "we can make a special batch this evening for dinner so you can take some home for your Maman and little Mathieu – it's the yeast I can do!"
Cosette giggled and stuffed the rest of her croissant into her mouth. "You're silly!" She grabbed the small apron off the peg by the door – it was one Marinette had sewn herself around that same age and embroidered with flowers growing out of a flour bag. Tom smiled fondly: that had been ten years ago, and he had expected it to be another ten at least (twenty if he could help it!) before he had another eight-year-old "pâtissière" in the kitchen. But of course Marinette had had other plans.
Cosette's eyes roved around the kitchen before alighting on the petit fours, and the macaroon cookies cooling next to them. "What are those?" she asked, leaning over and sniffing them excitedly. "Can I try one?"
"Be careful," Tom warned her. "Eventually those will go to customers, remember." He watched carefully as she wafted the aroma toward her nose, inhaling more judiciously before looking up at him expectantly. Tom hummed thoughtfully. "Why don't you help me decide how to finish them?" When her look turned curious, he explained, "Taste one of the petit fours, and then tell me what kind of flavor you think would go best with it. Then we'll finish them together, and put them out. We'll call them 'Cosette Fours'!"
"Wait, really?" She stared up at him in surprise. "I get to come up with my own flavor?" Tom nodded. As she reached for one of the un-dipped cakes, he cleared his throat, and she sheepishly went across to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. Finally Cosette took one of the cakes, bit off half, and swallowed, her eyes lighting up in delight. "These are so good!"
"Remember how I told you to taste it," Tom instructed her.
Cosette nodded obediently and nibbled off one corner, holding it in her mouth for several moments before taking another bite. She hummed thoughtfully. "It tastes like… orange?" she wondered. Tom nodded encouragingly. "What about… strawberry and blueberry! Only the strawberry is the frosting, and we put a blueberry on top as a decoration!"
Tom chuckled. "Berry clever!" While he talked Cosette through mixing the strawberry into the frosting and making it the right consistency, Tom checked on his bread loaves to find them risen satisfactorily. He quickly touched up the loaves, brushed the tops with oil, and placed them into the oven. Cosette carefully stirred her pink frosting, mixing the strawberry puree into the sugar base until it reached the correct consistency. With the bread entirely taken care of, Tom washed his hands and dipped a spoon in the frosting to check it. "What do you think?" he asked the girl, handing her a clean spoon.
"Berry-licious!" she replied, grinning.
"That's what I think, too!" he agreed, with an encouraging nod. "Now, you remember how to fill the frosting bag?" She nodded obediently. "Fill a frosting bag with your strawberry frosting, and then start giving the top of each petit four an even coating. Once you finish that, we'll finish them with the blueberries." He frowned. Françoise hadn't arrived yet to prepare the cakes, and he still had to start on the gougères and madeleines to go with their lunch special. He glanced up at the clock. The cakes had to go in the oven within the next hour if they were to be ready on time. "Honey?" he called out the door toward the front counter while watching out of the corner of his eye as Cosette carefully frosted her first petit four.
Cosette had finished her third petit four before Sabine finally poked her head through the door. "Yes, dear?"
"Where is Françoise?"
Sabine grimaced. "She only called a couple minutes ago," she replied. "She wasn't feeling well this morning, so she thought it best for her to stay home so she doesn't get anyone here sick."
"That's good, but it still leaves us short-staffed." Tom let out a heavy breath. "Did she find someone to cover?"
Sabine shook her head. "Everyone else was busy already."
Tom frowned. "I need someone to help me with these cakes," he explained. "Otherwise there's no way I can get lunch ready in time. Could you call Marinette? Or Adrien? I'd just need them for a couple hours."
Cosette paused what she was doing and cocked her head curiously. "Cakes?"
Sabine shook her head. "Don't you remember what she said at dinner last night? She and Adrien are in meetings all day today to get the ball rolling for their Summer Line. There's no way either of them can help today."
"I can help! I'd love to try baking cakes!" Cosette offered, bouncing up and down on her toes. She spilled a dollop of frosting from her piping bag onto the counter.
"What about you?" Tom asked Sabine, ignoring the girl. "Could you leave Marie to run the counter and at least get the batter started for me?"
Sabine glanced over her shoulder at the counter and grimaced. "I might be able to jump in and help for a few minutes," she replied regretfully, "but with the rush…"
Tom nodded in resignation. "You'd better get back to it, then," he told her.
"Sorry I can't do more," Sabine apologized, a worried look on her face.
Tom pressed a kiss to her lips and gave her a small smile as she returned to her place behind the counter. He turned back to the kitchen, folding his arms with a frown.
"I can help more!" Cosette announced, grinning eagerly, eyes wide. Most of the petit fours were completely frosted, albeit sloppily.
Tom let out a breath. The frosting job on the petit fours could be improved a little – not that they really needed it, considering they had been frosted by an eight-year-old. Another adult to help bake the cakes really would have been better, especially since they really weren't trying to put Cosette to work, but he didn't have anyone else available. "I suppose…" he agreed slowly. As Cosette quickly finished frosting the rest of the petits fours and pressed a single blueberry into the frosting on top of each one, Tom pulled out the large mixing bowl, as well as the cake ingredients. The first time he had really trusted Marinette to bake, she had been only about seven, and he had been in a rush to put together a catering order for one of the Mayor's galas. That had been before they were ready to start hiring workers, and he had needed someone to help. Enter little Marinette, who had baked and iced all the macaroons for that gala. But Marinette had already understood baking from doing it together; Cosette had never actually baked before starting to "work" at the bakery last month.
Cosette washed her hands and grinned excitedly. "So what do I do first?"
Tom nodded. "Okay, so, the first thing to do is to measure out the ingredients, just the way I showed you," he began, talking her through the steps for the batter while he laid out the ingredients for the madeleines. For the next several hours, Cosette worked steadily, carefully measuring out and mixing the ingredients before Tom tasted the batter to make sure it tasted right and had the correct consistency. When it was ready, the two of them poured the batter into cake pans and set them in the oven. While the cakes were in the oven, Tom finished the gougères and Cosette watched him, munching on one of her "Cosette Fours." Finally, by the time the lunch rush began, the cakes were out of the oven, the madeleines and gougères were ready to go out, and Cosette had taken a special box up to the apartment to eat lunch and play on Marinette's game console for a "break." With an hour before the cakes had to be delivered, Tom turned his attention to frosting and decorating them. While mixing the frosting, he chuckled wryly.
Who would have thought that the eight-year-old pâtissière would prove so helpful?