Chapter 40 A Private Tasting

• The new studio smelled of butter and ambition.
• Bright, sterile lights gleamed off rows of copper pans. Crew members scurried around, adjusting cameras and tasting props. Élise stood at her counter, arranging slices of poached pear on a plate that gleamed like porcelain frost. The dish was her newest creation — The Memory Tart.
• Layers of smoked vanilla custard and burnt caramel, delicate and dangerous. Like her life.