Chapter Two
Tara craned her neck in an attempt to get a better view of Magnolia Rose Plantation from the backseat of the company car that picked her up at the airport. As the car traveled down a wide lane lined with old dogwoods, she was glad they hadn’t yet blossomed. Witnessing the spectacle of them in full bloom was on her checklist of things to see before she returned to Oregon.
“Oh, wow!” she gasped as the car turned and the main house came into view. Set on a slight hill, the plantation house looked exactly as she pictured Scarlett O’Hara’s home from Gone With the Wind.
Tara grew up surrounded by her grandmother and mother’s obsession with Gone With the Wind. The two women could recite entire scenes from the movie by heart. Drawn into their mania, she developed one of her own. Tara’s dog-eared paperback copy of Gone With the Wind had been read so many times over the years, the cover had long ago disintegrated. Several pages fell out with regularity, but she carefully tucked them back inside each time it happened.
Named Tara from her mother’s love of the fictional plantation, Tara Tarleton couldn’t help but gape at the impressive structure before her.
Four sturdy white columns reached from the top of the front steps up to the overhang from the second floor. Twin chimneys flanked that section of the house with a wing shooting off to the left at an angle and another straight back on the right. Green shutters gave the home an earthy appearance, especially with the profusion of trees and grass surrounding the house.
The sparkling glass bordering the double entry doors twinkled in the afternoon sunlight. “It looks even prettier than I remember,” Tara whispered, recalling the whirlwind trip she’d made there the previous month to cook six different dishes as an audition for the position. It had been cool and rainy the weekend she interviewed for the job, but today the sun shone overhead and the plantation burst with life, evidence that spring had arrived.
“Welcome to Magnolia Rose, Miss Tarleton,” the driver said. He parked the car in the circular drive in front of the mansion then opened her door.
“Shouldn’t I go to a back entrance or something?” Tara asked. She stepped out of the car then leaned back in, retrieving her purse and shoulder bag.
The driver smiled and flicked his hand toward the broad steps leading up to the front door. “No, Miss Tarleton. All guests, including our new staff, are brought to the front entrance. If you’ll please go inside, I’ll make sure your luggage is delivered it to your room.”
“Thank you, Mr. Watling. I appreciate it.” Tara hesitated, uncertain if she should tip him or not. While she wavered in her decision, he climbed in the car, waved, and drove off, presumably to a back door.
Tara took a deep breath, then climbed the steps and tapped on the door. It opened almost immediately and a lovely woman in her early thirties greeted Tara with a welcoming embrace.
“Tara! Welcome back to Magnolia Rose. We’re so thrilled you agreed to accept the position in the pastry kitchen.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Fontaine. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this opportunity.” Tara smiled at the woman who, with her husband, had purchased a run-down plantation ten years ago and turned it into a place of beauty. A place they shared with visitors just twice a year —in April and again in December. Tara could only imagine how magnificent the place would appear during the holiday season, bedecked like an enchanting girl ready for her first formal ball.
“Please, Tara, I insist you call me Ashley and refer to my husband as Wade.” The woman drew her further inside the foyer where sunbeams gilded the gleaming hardwood floor and softened the roses in the patterned wallpaper. Ashley looped her arm around Tara’s, guiding her away from the door. “It’s you who are doing us a huge favor, lovey. A pastry chef with your talent will make this spring’s event one our guests will always remember. Why, I’ve thought of that delicious dessert you made the last evening you were here so many times, I’ve begun to dream of it in my sleep. What did you call it again?”
Pride mingled with pleasure on Tara’s face. “Magnolia Bliss. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”
Ashley laughed and guided Tara into a sitting room decorated in shades of cream and mauve. The decidedly feminine room fit the hostess, with her petite, delicate form and pale blond curls.
“Wade and I nearly gorged ourselves on it after everyone left. Goodness, but it was delicious.” Ashley gave Tara a knowing look. “Stuart Hamilton himself offered high praise for it.”
“He did?” Tara asked, awed that the famed chef and owner of one of Atlanta’s most popular restaurants liked her creation. Chef Hamilton would be in charge of the kitchen at Magnolia Rose during the month of April, leaving his restaurant in the capable hands of his sous-chef.
Tara hoped to glean any number of tips and tricks for culinary success from the man during her weeks at the plantation. To have him compliment something she made was incredible. Tara could cross one more item off her wish list. Praise from someone of Chef Hamilton’s caliber was in her top ten wishes she wanted to make reality. Maybe she could dazzle him with her pastry work enough he’d write a letter of recommendation for her. Although she liked Mr. Bonnell, she certainly didn’t plan to spend the rest of her career in his bakery.
Filled with excited anticipation, Tara took a seat on the cream settee Ashley indicated and smiled at her employer. The woman poured sweet iced tea into tall glasses and handed one to Tara before taking a seat across from her on a matching side chair. “Wade would have joined us, but he’s busy meeting with the gentleman who handles the horses for our events. Although we keep a few on hand all year for our personal pleasure, Cutler Springs Farm provides the horses for our April activities. Conveniently, they are located just a few miles up the road.”
While Ashley rattled on about the horses and the man who owned them, Tara’s gaze roamed over the room, taking in every detail to share with her mother. Melanie would want to know the exact shade of dusty rose on the walls, that the carpet looked like squares of navy and mauve mosaic tile, and the drapes appeared to be raw silk.
Tugging her thoughts back to the conversation, Tara accepted a plate of treats Ashley held out to her.
Hungry from her travels, Tara ate small bites of crustless sandwiches and a raspberry-filled tart. While she savored the food, Ashley discussed Tara’s duties, her work schedule, and expectations once the guests began to arrive the following Monday.
“We’ll have forty adult guests, and six teens whose parents thought immersing them in a month of hands-on history would be a good learning experience.” Ashley giggled. “I would have hated it when I was sixteen, so we’ll see how that goes. Since the teens are from three different families, I hope they will become friends and keep each other entertained. I have a feeling it will be challenging to keep them away from their cell phones for long.”
Tara silently agreed. Most of the teenagers she knew couldn’t go five minutes without their cell phones, let alone eight hours.
“You’ll also be cooking for the staff, and, of course, Wade and me. If I’ve counted correctly, we should have sixty to seventy people a day, give or take a few for days off and the like.” Ashley set down her tea glass and studied Tara a few moments. “You are so lovely, Tara. You truly do put me in mind of a Southern belle with that fair skin, dark hair, and green eyes.”
Tara blushed. “Thank you, Ashley. My mother didn’t give me the middle name of Scarlett without reason.”
Ashley laughed and rose to her feet when Tara set her glass and plate back on the low table between them. “I’m sure you are tired from your trip. Let me show you to your room. As I mentioned, we’d love to have you jump into work starting tomorrow, but if you need a day to rest, we completely understand. We just want you to have ample time to become acclimated to our kitchen before the guests arrive next week.”
“Tomorrow will be fine,” Tara assured her. “I’d like to go through the pastry area and make sure I have all the supplies I need and that the things I shipped have arrived.” Tara followed Ashley down the hall to a corridor that led to a long wing.
“This wing of the house is where all the staff who don’t have accommodations elsewhere stays,” Ashley said. They went up the stairs then Ashley led her to a door at the end of the hall. “Originally, this served as a guest wing, so I hope you’ll find your room adequate.” She opened the door and stepped aside.
Tara moved into the room and clamped her lips together to keep from squealing like her mother would have surely done. The room looked as if it had come straight from the set of Gone with the Wind. Her thoughts went to the scene in Scarlett’s bedroom when Mammy yanked on Scarlett’s corset strings while she held onto the bedpost.
The four-poster bed in this room, complete with a lace canopy and white crocheted coverlet, made Tara hold her hands at her sides to keep from clapping them together like a high-spirited child. “It’s perfect, Ashley. I love everything about this room.”
Ashley nodded in understanding. “I hoped you would. We call this room ‘Tara.’ All of the rooms have names. In fact, we have little brass plates on the wall outside that state the name of each room. If you ever have to locate a specific room, that’s the easiest way to find it.”
Tara grinned. “Thank you, again, Ashley. I promise to do a great job for you and Wade, and your guests.”
“I know you will, lovey. Now, rest up. Dinner is at six. Tonight we’re dining in the kitchen and it is informal, so don’t feel the need to change. Everyone will be dressed casually.” Ashley stepped into the hall. “In case you don’t recall from your last visit how to find the kitchen, just go down the back stairs here then follow the corridor straight into the kitchen. See you later.”
After Ashley closed her door, Tara took a moment to turn in a slow circle, taking in each detail of her room. She could almost picture Mammy standing by the bed tsk-tsking at something Scarlett had done or said.
Full of emotion and exhilaration, she flopped back on the bed, trying to convince herself she wasn’t caught in a dream, but a delightful reality.