A Dash of Magic: A Bliss Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

as we’d like them to be. Now it’s time for me to be your sous-chef; I’ll be right there beside you every minute. And remember, I competed at the Gala when I was fifteen and came in third, with no sous-chef! So just imagine how well we’ll do together !”
    And it was then that the shaking in Rose’s hands and the gurgling in her stomach finally abated, and her racing thoughts slowed to a jog, then a stroll, then sat down in the middle of her head and went to sleep.
     
    Rose jolted awake as the jet touched down and bumped along the runway. Wiping sleep from her eyes, she leaned over her mother and looked out the window. Before this, Rose’s whole world had been no bigger than Calamity Falls, with the occasional trip to her aunt Gert Hogswaddle’s house in the neighboring county of Humbleton. Now it had burst at the seams and expanded to include the entire Atlantic Ocean.
    The Bliss family got off the plane and picked up their luggage. Rose ogled all the signs written in French and listened to the French announcements piped in over the loudspeaker, none of which she understood. It was a new feeling, being a foreigner.
    Riding in his BabyBjörn on Balthazar’s chest, Gus the Scottish Fold looked vaguely bored. Ty, on the other hand, swaggered through the long hall of the airport like he was having the time of his life. “ Hola ,” he said over and over again, in a near-whisper, to every long-legged woman they passed.
    “We’re in France, Ty,” Rose reminded her brother. “Not Spain.”
    “Maybe some of these ladies are here on vacation from Spain,” he retorted.
    Sage was trying to imitate Ty’s confident swagger. “¡Hola!” he called to a girl in a pink dress, and received a glare in response.
    At the end of the long corridor was a man in a black suit and white gloves. He was holding up a poster board with BLISS printed on it in block letters.
    Albert shook his hand. “Hi, hi,” he said nervously, scratching the back of his head. “We’re the Blisses. Last time we checked!”
    “ Oui ,” said the driver, the French word for yes , Rose knew.
    The driver eyed Balthazar and Al cautiously. “Welcome to Paris,” he said. “I am Stefan. Your car is right this way.”
    “To the Hôtel de Notre Dame, then?” Albert asked, fiddling with a few stapled papers on which he had printed their itinerary.
    “No, no!” yelled Stefan. “The hotel will have to wait. You are late for the Gala orientation meeting with Jean-Pierre Jeanpierre, which means you are already treading on thin ice.”
    They had only just arrived, and already Rose was in trouble.
     
    Rose’s jaw dropped as Stefan stopped the car in front of the expo center. It was a massive glass building with enormous banners on each side of the entrance. The banners were covered with pictures of giant cream puffs, tarts, and slices of gooey red velvet cake, with the words GALA DES GÂTEAUX GRANDS: 18–23 AVRIL printed in white letters.
    Rose gulped. She knew the Gala des Gâteaux Grands was a big deal, but she wasn’t expecting banners the size of blimps.
    Stefan held the back door open while Rose and Purdy and the rest of the family piled out of the car. As they pushed through the giant revolving glass door in the front of the center, a nervous woman with short golden hair and extremely thin lips, which she’d painted fire-engine red, ran over.
    “Rosemary Bliss?” she said, taking Purdy’s arm and pulling her toward a set of giant double doors. “You are late for the orientation! You must hurry!”
    “No, no, I’m Purdy Bliss,” said Rose’s mother.
    The woman stopped in her tracks and eyed the rest of the group suspiciously. “Then which one of you is Rosemary Bliss? Who is our chef?”
    Rose hooked her thumb against the chest of her hooded sweatshirt. “Me?”
    Confusion flashed across the red-lipped woman’s face. “Ah. I see. My name is Flaurabelle. I am chief assistant to Chef Jean-Pierre Jeanpierre. And you are late!” She