Macaron Murder (with Recipes) (A Patisserie Mystery) Read Free

and put on skinny jeans, a silk lavender top, and penny loafers, which instantly transformed her into looking the part of a chic young bourgeoisie. It was amazing what a good scrubbing and some nice clothes could do for a woman, or anybody for that matter.  

    Clémence spritzed on her favorite Chanel perfume and she was on her way. It was almost 4pm. She would take her mother’s advice about not napping. Plus she couldn’t wait to visit Damour . She was craving a good French macaron, something she’d been deprived of except when her family visited her on various occasions in different parts of the world. A good chocolate macaron could make her day.

CHAPTER 3
    The staff at Damour hadn’t changed much except for three new hires, as her parents had informed her. The flagship patisserie was at 4 Place du Trocadéro, where it had to view of the Eiffel Tower . One door opened directly into the patisserie section, and the other into the tea salon, although both sections were connected on the inside. It just made it easier for the customers to get into two lineup, and at certain times, especially on Saturdays at lunchtime, people could line up for up to an hour to get a seat in the salon.  

    It wasn’t so busy on a Thursday afternoon, except for the bakery, so Clémence went in through the salon door. The hostess, Celine, greeted her.

    “Clémence, c’est toi !”  

    Celine gave her two kisses on the cheeks. They were around the same age and they had been pretty good friends ever since Celine started working there three years ago. They had kept in touch on Facebook while Clémence was away. Sometimes Celine would fill her in on funny anecdotes about store regulars or among the staff.

    After catching up a little, Celine introduced her to the wait staff who were there, Pierre and Christine. Then there were the cashiers in the patisserie section, Marie and Raoul. Caroline, the manager that day, who was a friendly middle-aged woman with dark blonde ringlets, came out to greet her.  

    Pierre and Marie were new, but they all seemed very friendly. Clémence’s parents were very particular about who they hired—they only wanted people who were happy to work there. Paris had a bad reputation for poor customer service and they wanted no part in that at Damour , which was partly what made the place so popular.  

    The inside of the place was the same aesthetic as her house: a mixture of classic baroque and modern contemporary. It had mother’s influence all over it. There were chandeliers and floral porcelain tea cups, with minimalistic and modern tables, and chairs cut from clear plastic. She had done a great job. The brand had lavender packaging and the place was painted in various shades of lavender and other pastel colors.  

    The back kitchen was Clémence’s favorite place. She loved watching the pastries get made. She was a mean baker herself, but she was out of practice. The chefs and bakers greeted her kindly. Sebastien Soulier was their star baker. He had only been an apprentice when Clémence first met him, but he’d since been promoted to head baker.  

    “ Salut Sebastien. It’s been a while.”  

    Clémence gave him two kiss on the cheeks. His younger sister Beatrice was there as well and she greeted Clémence warmly with bisous as well.  

    He was making the shells for pistachio macarons, piping the pale green mix onto a baking tray in one-inch circles. In an American twist—her mother’s invention—this one had Oreo flavored cream filling. It was absolutely delectable.  

    The Soulier brother and sister were both young and innovative as well. It was the reason why her parents hired them. The both had strawberry blonde hair that could be categorized as red under direct sunlight, and flawless skin. Sebastien’s eyes were hazel, while Berenice’s were green. Clémence liked them both a lot.  

    “So glad you’re back,” said Berenice. “We’ll have an extra hand in the kitchen again.”