Margarette Macaron Novels & Stories

It fits perfectly. Nathaniel: There. Now it is official. Margaret: You should cut a cake. Victoria: We do not have a cake. Margaret: I made one. It is in the kitchen. Nathaniel: You made a cake? Margaret: I have been baking all week. I needed something to do. It kept my mind off things. We go to the kitchen. A small white cake sits on the table. Two layers. White frosting. Tiny silver hearts. Fresh flowers on top.

"Oh! Miss Margaret. Just some cakes nobody wanted." "Why not?" She wrinkled her nose. "Tasted weird. Really bitter." "Who made them?" "Dr. Graham. Said they were good for health or something." She shrugged. "But most people just picked at them and left the rest." I stared at the uneaten desserts, something cold settling in my stomach. "What kind of cakes?" "Herb cakes, I think she called them." "Yeah. Tasted like medicine. Really bitter." She shrugged. "The doctor seemed to know a lot about herbs and stuff though."

You couldn't think about your marriage falling apart while you were concentrating on not burning the shallots. There were eggs. Good butter. A block of Gruyère. Cherry tomatoes, herbs in a small pot on the sill by the window, the kind of fresh herbs that said someone in this household cooked seriously. I found a pan and got to work. --- "Ma!" I turned around. Margaret was standing in the kitchen doorway in her coat, clearly having just arrived, looking at me the way someone looked at a situation they weren't sure they had the authority to stop. "What are you doing?"

Mia muttered. I looked toward Margaret, but she didn't try to peek at me even though I knew she could feel my gaze on her. She was avoiding eye contact with me. She looked really beautiful, the tightly fitted gown she had on that enunciated her curves. But I had never seen her get dressed that way, she would usually wear sweatpants and a t-shirt. A smirk tugged my lips as I watched her, she tilted her head up and our eyes met. She looked away almost immediately. "Yeah, it was all Margaret's idea. She even Okroshka for you." Lexi grinned turning to Margaret. They walked over to the table, Lexi dropped the cake and Margaret did the same with the tray she was holding.

That one little touch was all it took to remind him he wasn’t alone. "I baked some cookies." Margot's voice broke the heaviness as I slowly pulled away from Asher’s embrace. Her tone was soft, as though she knew we all needed a moment to breathe again. Asher glanced at his mom, a faint smile curling his lips. "What kind?" he asked, his voice still a little rough but lighter now. "Chocolate chip," Margot replied with a smile, her fingers brushing the flour off her apron. "With a hint of coconut. Your favorite, remember?"

Alive. Selene’s POV Margaret’s notebook lies open before me, its pages worn with age and ink. I flip through them rapidly, my fingers shaking with urgency. My breakfast sits beside me, untouched. The food grows cold, forgotten. I cannot tear my eyes away from the text. Margaret was a genius. Her work with aromatic cures—Potions that healed both curses and natural diseases—is nothing short of revolutionary. She was ahead of her time. A pioneer. And yet, none of it helps.

Probably nowhere near as romantic as this one considering it was a contract marriage. The lady returned, carrying a silver tray with a porcelain teapot, matching cups, and a plate of freshly baked shortbread cookies. She set it on the table in front of us and then took her seat, “I hope you don’t mind chamomile.” She said. “I’m Margaret by the way. And you two are?” “Mr. and Mrs. Patterson.” I said. “Brayden and Larissa.” Larissa said at the same time. Margaret’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Ah. Let me guess, you two are newlyweds?”

Margaret nodded excitedly, she reveled in the compliment of her art and she couldn’t wait for them to taste the food either. Suddenly, Fredrick emerged from the kitchen with a crate of white wine. Margaret was serving each person a plate of taco spaghetti chattering on happily with Avery. Noah’s jaw dropped when Fredrick dropped four bottles of d’Orsay Champagne on the table. “Margaret, half a million dollars is staring back at me on the dinner table.” “Stop being dramatic!” Margaret retorted. “It is d’Orsay for Christ’s sakes! Are we just going to have d’Orsay for dinner?

Margaret felt a bit guilty at one point and said, "Mrs. Horton, you really don't need to do this just because of Mr. Horton—" "Don't be silly!" Olivia interrupted, lowering her voice. "Margaret, no matter what happens with you and Malcolm, we all recognize your talent in cooking. The people who want to hire you for these banquets? They're only interested because of the meal you made today. And with New Year's Eve coming in just half a month, they're eager for some authentic Maravian flavors. Who wouldn't want that?" In that moment, Margaret felt a sense of satisfaction she had never experienced before, not when she was with Gavin.

Margaret felt that she had to show her appreciation towards Irene. Speaking of cooking bird's nest, Margaret was the one who had taught Loraine. Although Margaret was born into a rich family, she was not the kind of girl who could do nothing. She was a person who could cook and knew how to do housework. During her time with Edric’s father, she often cooked bird's nest soup for her husband.