Breakfast At Tiffany's Novels & Stories

“Please. Don’t bow. It’s not my thing.” “Yes, ma’am,” they chorus. “What will we be preparing this morning, ma’am?” MaryJane steps forward, smiling sweetly. I blink at the sudden shift in attitude. "Pancakes," I say anyways. "Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast, fresh orange juice—simple American breakfast.” MaryJane’s smile stiffens. “That won’t be possible.” I raise a brow. “Oh? And why not?” “The Fords are accustomed to more refined morning courses,” she says. “A lighter brioche with imported fruit preserves, truffle-infused omelets, smoked salmon canapés, aged cheese selections—”

Triffany woke up early the next day, she checked the time, it was five-thirty, she smiled to herself, this was actually the plan, she washed her teeth, took her bath and dressed up then went downstairs to prepare breakfast for Carlos- a first for her. Well she was only doing this because he had promised to tutor her, naturally she would never do this for him. She prepared a breakfast of egg, saffron, truffles bread, sprinkled buns and gold dust, gull’s egg omelette and a warm rich tea.

Clara walked in with two other maids behind her, they bowed before dropping the tray of food on the bed, the last two bowed and ran off leaving just me and Clara. “Did Tristain order you to bring breakfast to me”. I inquired, looking at the grand style the meals were served. “Yes ma’am, it was an order”. She responded by bowing. “Oh…. Clara can you get me painkillers, my whole body ached”. I said opening up the covered meal one at a time and filled with laughter. He sure knows how to play his game. “Right away ma’am”. Clara responded and rushed off. Breakfast was served in a grand style, at one corner there was scrambled egg, fruit salad, pancakes warm and fluffy with honey dripping down spr

But how could I tell my little sister to be brave if I couldn’t be brave, too? I had just made up my mind when I walked past a French cafe that had amazing macarons. I stopped for a second, wondering if I should give in and buy some (the owner knew my name and my favorite flavors at this point), when I saw a familiar golden head at a table in the corner. And sitting across from Jacob was Tiffany McClain, her smile wide and beautiful.

"Hey, it's okay. I understand, okay? I am the last person you should have to explain anything to. Get that?" She nodded and smiled before throwing her arms around me. We stayed that way for a while before she pulled away. "What do you want to have for breakfast?" I shrugged. "Anything you're having, Scar," "Casserole?" My eyes widened. "What? Are you being for real right now?" She glared at me playfully. "Don't use that against me, please. Can't I have chicken casserole for breakfast?" "You literally talked down on Tiffany's perfect cooking and now, you want to have it for breakfast?"

(Serena) Eventually, I stretch, sit up, and pad barefoot to the balcony. Wow! I’m actually in Paris. The Eiffel Tower is just visible between two buildings, this feels like magic. Out in the small dining room, on the breakfast table, there's a covered tray someone’s delivered. My stomach growls. I lift the cover. Croissants, of course. But also warm pain au chocolat, tartine with butter and jam, soft-boiled eggs, fruit arranged like someone expected royalty.

The wet strands of my hair fell to the sides so I shook my head for the wetness to dry. I changed into clean clothes and then turned to pack the mess I made in the room. I packed everything till the place was clean then I sighed and reached the door. I opened the door and walked to the sitting room. The smell of breakfast permeated the air and I could feel my tummy grumble in an attempt to remind me of how hungry I was. Tiffany was standing right there with a polo shirt on. She held the frying pan and tossed the mixed egg into the pan.

She immediately sat back down, followed by Erland, then two pastry chefs and Amanda came to join and discuss the marketing strategy for the bakery. ... New York, 7 p.m... Tiffany enjoyed dinner with Rosalia and also Erland's sister Zoe. She showed no enthusiasm for eating, constantly thinking about what Erland was doing in Nevada. Suddenly a message came to her phone lying on the table in front of her, and she picked it up and saw a picture message from Robbie. Her chest felt tight when she saw the photo showing Erland and Maelie together coming out of a car in front of a bakery, accompanied by a caption.

ASTON “Tell me everything about last night.” Tiffany demanded at lunch time. She carried a paper bag with the logo of a Chinese place nearby on the front. “I brought food, so you don’t have excuses to get out of taking our entire hour to give me every detail.” I smiled coyly, winding a lock of hair around my finger. “Details about what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Throwing me a mocking glare, she heaved into a chair. “You already forgot I loaned you that smoking hot red dress for your big date?”