Crêpe Murder: Book 4 (A Patisserie Mystery with Recipes) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Harper Lin
no, I’ve so over mystery. I’ll take an honest, open guy any day.” She looked deep into his eyes. “Seriously.”
He kiss her. They slowly leaned back on the trunk of the tree, still kissing, as the sun began to set.
CHAPTER 4
“I’ve got info,” Celine said to Clémence as soon as she came in to work.
“Really? What’s the scoop?”
“Well, first of all, we didn’t get his name because he paid in cash—a hundred euro bill, no less.”
“Ah, too bad.”
“But when Sophie went to the restroom, he asked about you.”
“Me? He asked you about me?”
“No, he asked Christine.” Celine referred to one of the waitresses. “He asked her who was the girl with the dark bob and the striking blue eyes. Christine, thinking that he was interested in you, bragged a little and told him that you were the owner of the Damour chain.”
Clémence’s face fell. “She did that?”
“Was she not supposed to do that?”
Clémence shrugged. “I guess in a way it’s common knowledge who I am, but now he knows more about me than I know about him.”
“Christine asked him who he was, but he looked around before saying his name was Carlos. He seemed a bit nervous when Sophie came back from the restroom. Christine thought it might’ve been because he didn’t want his date to know that he was inquiring about some other girl. What is going on? Do you guys have history?”
“Sort of.” Clémence told her the story about Carlos.
“Another mystery to solve,” she joked. “That’s weird that he left. Some men are just callous. But I have to admit, he is really cute. No wonder Sophie’s going out with him, especially if he’s a secret prince or something.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Clémence. “I’ll just ask Arthur’s brother Theo to ask Sophie who he is. Theo went to school with her. I guess Carlos did remember me. It was such an awkward encounter. There’s something odd about this whole thing.”
“Well, you’ll get to the bottom of this soon. You always do.”
Clémence worked in the kitchen for the whole morning, helping Sebastien and Berenice with their new macaron flavors. At noon, she took a shopping cart to head to Marché de l’Alma, an open air market which lasted only a few hours. She could’ve asked one of her employees or interns to pick up the apples, but she loved going to the market. Everything was fresh and colorful, and she wouldn’t mind eating some paella from one of the stalls there for lunch.
All the trees on Avenue de Président Wilson were lush and green after the flowers had fallen off. There were still a few petals in the gutters. Tourists with maps were everywhere. Clémence chuckled. Some of them were probably looking for Place du Trocadéro to see the Eiffel Tower, which was only around the corner. Sure enough, a German couple stopped her to ask for directions.
The market was bustling as usual with locals and tourists alike. Fruit vendors were calling out prices at the entrance. Clémence stopped to admire the roses and sunflowers at a flower stall, then proceeded past the seafood to stop at her favorite fruit seller to buy apples.
“Bonjour Sarah,” she said to the seller, who was a woman in her fifties. “I’m looking for some apples for baking.”
Sarah recommended a few from her selection. The Pink Lady apples ended up costing a fortune. Clémence also bought Honey Crisp and Mutsu apples. All the apples took up half the shopping cart and weighed a ton. She dragged the cart to the paella stand, where she bought a container to take away. After she poked around the rest of the stalls, which sold everything from old postcards to homemade honey, yogurts and cheeses, her cart was full of fresh fruit, vegetables and homemade goods.
At Place d'Iena, she sat on a bench to eat her paella as people lined up for the Musee de Guimet behind her.
After she finished her meal and
He kiss her. They slowly leaned back on the trunk of the tree, still kissing, as the sun began to set.
CHAPTER 4
“I’ve got info,” Celine said to Clémence as soon as she came in to work.
“Really? What’s the scoop?”
“Well, first of all, we didn’t get his name because he paid in cash—a hundred euro bill, no less.”
“Ah, too bad.”
“But when Sophie went to the restroom, he asked about you.”
“Me? He asked you about me?”
“No, he asked Christine.” Celine referred to one of the waitresses. “He asked her who was the girl with the dark bob and the striking blue eyes. Christine, thinking that he was interested in you, bragged a little and told him that you were the owner of the Damour chain.”
Clémence’s face fell. “She did that?”
“Was she not supposed to do that?”
Clémence shrugged. “I guess in a way it’s common knowledge who I am, but now he knows more about me than I know about him.”
“Christine asked him who he was, but he looked around before saying his name was Carlos. He seemed a bit nervous when Sophie came back from the restroom. Christine thought it might’ve been because he didn’t want his date to know that he was inquiring about some other girl. What is going on? Do you guys have history?”
“Sort of.” Clémence told her the story about Carlos.
“Another mystery to solve,” she joked. “That’s weird that he left. Some men are just callous. But I have to admit, he is really cute. No wonder Sophie’s going out with him, especially if he’s a secret prince or something.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Clémence. “I’ll just ask Arthur’s brother Theo to ask Sophie who he is. Theo went to school with her. I guess Carlos did remember me. It was such an awkward encounter. There’s something odd about this whole thing.”
“Well, you’ll get to the bottom of this soon. You always do.”
Clémence worked in the kitchen for the whole morning, helping Sebastien and Berenice with their new macaron flavors. At noon, she took a shopping cart to head to Marché de l’Alma, an open air market which lasted only a few hours. She could’ve asked one of her employees or interns to pick up the apples, but she loved going to the market. Everything was fresh and colorful, and she wouldn’t mind eating some paella from one of the stalls there for lunch.
All the trees on Avenue de Président Wilson were lush and green after the flowers had fallen off. There were still a few petals in the gutters. Tourists with maps were everywhere. Clémence chuckled. Some of them were probably looking for Place du Trocadéro to see the Eiffel Tower, which was only around the corner. Sure enough, a German couple stopped her to ask for directions.
The market was bustling as usual with locals and tourists alike. Fruit vendors were calling out prices at the entrance. Clémence stopped to admire the roses and sunflowers at a flower stall, then proceeded past the seafood to stop at her favorite fruit seller to buy apples.
“Bonjour Sarah,” she said to the seller, who was a woman in her fifties. “I’m looking for some apples for baking.”
Sarah recommended a few from her selection. The Pink Lady apples ended up costing a fortune. Clémence also bought Honey Crisp and Mutsu apples. All the apples took up half the shopping cart and weighed a ton. She dragged the cart to the paella stand, where she bought a container to take away. After she poked around the rest of the stalls, which sold everything from old postcards to homemade honey, yogurts and cheeses, her cart was full of fresh fruit, vegetables and homemade goods.
At Place d'Iena, she sat on a bench to eat her paella as people lined up for the Musee de Guimet behind her.
After she finished her meal and
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