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Let Them Eat Cake: A Novel (French Twist Book 1), by Sandra Byrd
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Book One in the French Twist Series.
Lexi Stuart is at a critical crossroads. She's done with college but still living at home, ready to launch a career but unable to find a job, and solidly stalled between boyfriends.
When a lighthearted conversation in French with the manager of her favorite bakery turns into a job offer, Lexi accepts. But the actual glamor is minimal: the pay is less than generous, her co-workers are skeptical, her bank account remains vertically-challenged, and her parents are perpetually disappointed. Her only comfort comes from the flirtatious baker she has her eye on-but even may not be who he seems to be!
So when a handsome young executive dashes into the bakery to pick up his high profile company's special order for an important meeting-an order Lexi has flubbed-she loses her compulsion to please. Something inside Lexi clicks. Laissez la révolution commencer! Let the revolution begin!
Instead of trying to fulfill everyone else's expectations for her life, Lexi embarks on an adventure in trusting herself and God with her future-très bon!
This book is written from a lightly Christian worldview.
Audible edition narrated by Sophie Amoss.
- Sales Rank: #148215 in eBooks
- Published on: 2012-12-04
- Released on: 2012-12-04
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
“Let Them Eat Cake is a delicious read! Byrd brings a fresh, insightful approach to women's fiction as she stretches out a welcoming hand to twenty-something readers. Bon Appetit!”
–Robin Jones Gunn, bestselling author of Sisterchicks Say Ooh La La! and The Christy Miller Series
“An engaging tale with as many layers as a croissant…and shaped just as lovingly.”
–Siri L. Mitchell, author of Kissing Adrien
“If a good book were as loaded with calories as a French pastry, this one would have added pounds to my hips. Let Them Eat Cake--a sweet, satisfying story of searching for one's place in life and inviting God along on the journey.”
–Tamara Leigh, Author of Perfecting Kate
“I could not put Let Them Eat Cake down. As a twenty-something myself, I felt as if Lexi and I were old friends. Sandra Byrd had me laughing and crying all the way through the entire book. I can’t wait for the next one.”
–Shannon Kubiak Primicerio author of The Divine Dance and co-author of Life. Now.
“This realistic, slice-of-life story undertakes the challenging decisions Lexi must make about her future–whether she will follow her passion or find a job that pays the bills. Not shying away from tough issues, Sandra Byrd's vivid characters draw readers in and encourage them to follow their dreams.”
–Natasha Neuroth, Internet Product Editor, Christianbook.com
“Sandra Byrd’s Let Them Eat Cake is a rich, creamy delight. The characters ring true and the plot simmers at just the right pace. Try it! You’ll like it!”
–Lyn Cote, author of Blessed Assurance
“Not every novel fills me up and leaves me hungering for more, but Let Them Eat Cake does. Sandra Byrd has created a witty heroine whose search for significance and desire to follow the Lord equals her charming bonhomie. You won’t regret settling down with a plate of French pastries and this delectable adventure!”
–Angela Hunt, author of The Elevator
“Sandra Byrd has a crafted a delicious gem for the twenty-something crowd – and their mothers! Seattle’s artsy downtown adds flair to the story’s overall appeal, as do the gotta-try-‘em recipes. Delightful.”
–Susan Meissner, author of A Seahorse in the Thames
“Lexi Stuart is in search of a place to call home, a man to love, and that elusive word called destiny. This is a fun, realistic story of a twentysomething who isn't afraid to question her faith and other's expectations in order to discover her place in the world.”
–T. Suzanne Eller, international speaker and author of several books, including The Woman I Am Becoming: Embracing the Chase of Identity, Faith, and Destiny
“Sandra Byrd’s protagonist in Let Them Eat Cake is Lexie Stuart, a self-effacing Francophile who narrates the story with a delicious prose, a smattering of French and a grow-as-you-go faith. J’adore Let Them Eat Cake. Merci, Sandra!”
–Leslie Gould, award-winning author of Beyond the Blue and Scrap Everything
“Let Them Eat Cake is a culinary delight. Sandra Byrd creates a lovely atmosphere in this delightful read with a wonderful surprise ending.”
–Rachel Hauck, author of Diva NashVegas
About the Author
Sandra Byrd is a prolific writer of fiction, including the popular Friends for a Season series for teens, and the bestselling Girls Like You and Secret Sisters series for young girls. She is a regular contributor to national Christian publications. Before she began writing full time, Sandra worked in marketing, sales, and acquisitions for an educational publisher. She and her husband have two children, and make their home in Seattle, Washington.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Chaque personne sait où sa chaussure pince.
Each woman knows where her shoe pinches.
Catbert avoided catching my eye–never a good sign. He prowled the aisles all day but didn’t stop to say hello or ask about my plans for the weekend. My cubicle had recently been expanded by three inches to accommodate my new cellmate, Celine, who silently typed nonstop. The woman was a machine. I tried not to compare the stack of nutrition labels she had robotically processed since eight that morning with my own paltry offering.
I pulled up another document and studied it. Hmm, I wonder why they used an emulsifier in this recipe? I closed my eyes and thought about it. And was this soft wheat?
I heard a cough behind me and quickly opened my eyes. “Should I help you?” Celine asked in French, eyeing the stack I still had to translate.
“Oh…ah…non, merci,” I answered. “I was thinking about the flour.”
“Bon,” she said. She had a smile like sour milk. I’d asked her to lunch when she first joined us. She’d informed me that she didn’t take lunches, and would I please stop burning lavender candles at the desk. Les allergies.
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly five. In order to get my quota done today, I’d have to stay at least another hour. Again. Celine tidied up her station, turned off her Moroccan music, and bid me a stiff good night. Everyone else began to pour from the room like mice from a hole. I typed faster.
I felt, more than saw, him standing behind me.
“Miss Stuart?” Catbert said.
I turned around and looked up. “Yes?”
“Can you come with me?” He nodded toward his glassed-in office overlooking the cubicles.
“Should I finish these labels first?” I asked, cotton-mouthed.
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”
Uh-oh.
I followed him into his office, and we sat across the table from each other. “Your French is really very good,” he said. “You simply don’t translate enough documents in a day to make it worth your time…or ours.”
“I’m just so fascinated by the business,” I said quickly. “I enjoy seeing what’s going into each product.”
He nodded curtly. “But you are not here to evaluate contents, Miss Stuart. You are here to translate.”
“I see,” I said, feeling desperate and hating myself for begging for a job that I loathed. “I can certainly work more quickly.”
He shook his head. “That’s what the thirty-day trial period was for. I wish you the best.” He handed me my final paycheck and a cardboard box for the few items I had at my cubicle. “I’m sorry.”
I nodded and took the paycheck and the box, not trusting myself to speak for fear of releasing the tears. What was I going to do?
I packed up my half-burned lavender candles, got into my car, and drove slowly in order to collect myself before pulling up in front of my parents’ West Seattle house. I’d moved back in a little over a month ago to find a job and save some money for a rental deposit on my own place.
I left my box of cubicle gear in the trunk, stashed like a dead body. I pasted on a smile and walked into the house. My mother was just hanging up the phone and looked exultant.
“Guess what?” she said.
“What?”
“All the permits are in place, and we’re ready to go.”
“How long until your new place is ready to move into?” I asked, trying to dredge up enthusiasm from somewhere deep within.
“Six months,” Mom answered. “No longer.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.
I’d lived for twenty-four years in a family rife with unspoken conversations and unstated expectations. I knew what she meant. “Get a life, Alexandra Stuart. You have until July.”
I went into “my” room–recently the storage room, before that Nate’s room–and closed the door behind me. Dad had stacked my mail, forwarded from my old apartment, on the dresser. I shuffled through the magazine subscription advertisements and a manipulative plea for alumni donations from the college I’d attended just an hour and a half to the north in Bellingham.
No wedding invitations so far this week. God is good. I opened the last envelope.
Not again. I’d been overspending on clothes for a job I hated.
Had Dad guessed what this was when he’d stacked the mail? I sat on the bed, lifted the box that held my vase, and rested it on my lap. With the money from my last paycheck I had bought this tiny Chihuly bud vase from a friend who was moving to Spain. I’d always wanted a Chihuly piece, and it was a bargain. If I'd known it was going to be my second-to-final paycheck, of course, I’d have applied it to the final five car payments on my coughing VW.
I set the vase, still carefully swaddled, on the shelf in the corner of the closet. Chihuly would debut in my real apartment. Or maybe in my room at the downtown YWCA shelter. I walked into the hall, shut the bedroom door behind me, and went into the kitchen. My mom stood in front of the stove, wide-checkered apron hugging her postmenopausal curves.
“What time will they be here?” I lifted the lid on the homemade spaghetti sauce my Italian family calls “red gravy.” A thick tomato steam, flecked with dried summer twins, basil and rosemary, rose into the air. Mom chopped fresh mozzarella and dressed it with balsamic vinegar. I could taste the tang on my lips even now.
“About seven. You can use my curling iron if yours isn’t unpacked yet.”
Subtle, Mom.
They say trouble always visits in threes. My hypochondriac lawyer brother, his très successful lawyer fiancée, Leah–who graduated from high school a year after I did–and my outspoken Nonna were coming to dinner. At least Nonna posed no problem to the job conversation.
No, absolutely not true. Nonna was always stirring up trouble. “Can I help with anything? Make some shortbread for dessert?” I asked. “I perfected a new recipe with vanilla beans before Christmas–the cookies I gave away in tins. Everyone said they were great.”
“No thanks, honey. I have it all under control,” Mom said.
“What’s a mother for except to cook for her family?”
“All right. I’m going to run to the mall for a minute,” I said.
Mom nodded absently, tasting the sauce.
When I’d escaped to my car, I sat for a moment and sighed before turning over the motor. I loved my mother, of course, but I missed living on my own. I headed toward the discount Supermall. My cell phone rang, and the caller ID flashed the name of my best friend, Tanya.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Going to the mall.”
“What’s in your wallet?”
I dug it out at a red light. “One hundred and fifty-six dollars, a Tully’s Coffee card, and a creased photo of Greg with a nose ring penciled in.” Greg and I broke up almost a year ago. Everyone said I should be over it.
“No way.” Tanya laughed. “Don’t spend too much.”
“I’m not going to buy a lot,” I said, wincing at how pathetic I sounded. “I just need time to think. And I can use the clothes for job hunting.”
“Job hunting? You have a job.”
“Uh-oh, light’s green. I’ll call you later. Bye!” I hung up.
I parked in front of the Rack. Even if I couldn’t afford Nordstrom, I could afford their remainders discounted at Nordstrom Rack. I tried on a pair of slim black pants that hid the extra pound or two hitchhiking on my hips, and some black pumps with a skinny-yet-sturdy heel. I headed to the register, and the clerk took out a marker.
“Wait,” I said.
The shoes hung in midair. The ten people in line behind me let out a collective, irritated sigh and shifted their feet.
“Yes?”
“Do you have to write that number on the bottom of the shoes?”
“Yes. It’s loss control. Company policy.”
“Can you make it small?” I asked. The clerk wrinkled her nose but wrote it small. Okay. As long as my feet stayed flat on the floor, no one would know my shoes were discount. I paid, left, and drove home. Now that the retail therapy was over, I felt sad again and blinked back tears. But I managed to put on a happy face and get out of the car, wondering what I’d say at dinner if they brought up my job. I couldn’t let on.
Nate, Leah, and Nonna arrived precisely at seven. At the store I’d felt so chic in black pants and a white shirt, but now I felt like a hostess at Bakers Square. Even though I was unhappy living with my parents, it still felt good to be back home and near my crazy friends and family again.
“How are you?” Leah said, hugging me. I hugged her back, warmly. It wasn’t her fault that she was pretty and successful, or that she had graduated a year behind me and was already clerking at a law firm in town, or that, to top it off, she was a Pied Piper to children and small pets everywhere.
“Really good to see you, Leah,” I said, meaning it. Hey, if I never found another job, maybe I could nanny their kids!
“Hey, sis,” Nate ruffled my hair, the same rich dark brown as his. But I scored the blue eyes and dimples, for which I offer a hearty thanks to all recessive genes eve...
Most helpful customer reviews
76 of 77 people found the following review helpful.
A delicious treat for fiction lovers
By Cindy Swanson
I liked this book so much, I scarfed in down almost as fast as I would a piece of my mom's legendary brownie chocolate cake.
While I've enjoyed some Christian "chick lit" lately, some of it can veer into the self-consciously cute and trying a little too hard to be funny zone. Not this book. Sandra Byrd's humor is wryly amusing instead of broadly slapstick, her protagonist's interaction with God believable instead of goofy.
The story is Alexandra "Lexi" Stuart, a 20-something who is having trouble getting her career bearings in a post-college world. When yet another job falls through, this Francophile decides to follow her heart and work for a much smaller paycheck in a French bakery.
Her adventures at the bakery, her attraction to two very different guys, and her steps back to a relationship with God, make for some of the most enjoyable reading I've done in a while. Lexi is an appealing character, and by the time the story wraps up, you feel you've made a friend--and if you're like me, you'll applaud her choice at the end of the book.
After reading this, I handed it off to my 20-year-old daughter, who also devoured it (appropos word for a book largely about food!) in one weekend. While this tale of a "quarterlife crisis" will go over very well with twenty-somethings, age won't matter when it comes to enjoying this book. It's a good story, told with humor and verve, and pages turn effortlessly.
P.S. I really liked the way actual images were interspersed in the copy, such as those of e-mails, application forms, classifieds, personal notes, etc. And the recipes! I'll definitely be trying "Boyfriend Bait Stroganoff."
43 of 44 people found the following review helpful.
Fun read and recipes too
By Barbara Warren
It's tough being the only failure in your upwardly motivated family. Lexi Stuart has just been fired from a job she hated, but she is afraid to tell her parents. Broke, unemployed, between boyfriends, and about to become homeless, she's between the proverbial brick and a cement block. She finally lands a job working the counter in a gourmet bakery. The pay is barely above poverty level, her fellow employee is snippy, and her parents are disappointed in her career choice. To make matters worse, her brother and his fiance are doing great--no problems, good paying jobs, no clouds on their romantic horizon. Lexi can't help feeling like a failure. She doesn't even feel she fits in at her church anymore. On the up-side, her boss is handsome, and seems attracted to her.
Smart and sassy, Let Them Eat Cake is an enjoyable story about a woman who can't get anything right until she gets right with God. Good Chick-Lit that will keep the reader smiling. And the recipes are good too.
35 of 36 people found the following review helpful.
Loved it!
By Patty MB
What a sweet book (pun intended!).
I hadn't read Sandra Byrd prior to this; I grabbed this book while on vacation a year ago and it's been sitting on the shelf gathering dust. The other day, I needed something to read (hadn't been to the library yet!) and I'm glad that I picked it up finally.
This little gem is about Lexi, a 20-something single gal who is stuck in a dead-end job, translating for a food company. Lexi spends so much time enjoying what she's reading that she can't make her quotas, so guess what happens? Yep.
She is living at home after the break-up of a relationship; she's got great friends and parents; her brother is engaged to a gal that Lexi adores, too. But she's lost as far as what she wants to do "when she grows up" and her parents are selling their home to move to another, so Lexi has to get on the ball. Quickly! Another factor that Lexi needs to get on the ball with is her relationship with God. Basically, she doesn't have one. Not a good plan, IMO.
I won't spoil the story line. Lexi goes through her growing pains, learning and doing, stumbling once in a while and then recovering. I loved this book! So much that I've ordered the next two books in the series.
Yes, it's written by a Christian author and published by a Christian publishing house. God is mentioned a lot in this book. If you're not into Christian chick lit, then this book isn't for you. But please don't get it, read it and slam it because it's Christian. Read whatever genre you're into. Thank goodness we all have the freedom to choose!
I definitely recommend this to fans of Christian chick lit - of ALL ages!
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