PRAISE FOR
THE COINCIDENCE OF COCONUT CAKE
“Deliciously entertaining! Reichert’s voice is warm and funny in this delightful ode to second chances and the healing power of a meal cooked with love.”
—Meg Donohue, USA Today bestselling author of Dog Crazy and All the Summer Girls
“Reichert takes the cake with this charming tale of food, friendship, and fate.”
—Beth Harbison, New York Times bestselling author of If I Could Turn Back Time
“The Coincidence of Coconut Cake is a delicious story of food, love, and a wink at what people will do to have their cake and eat it, too.”
—Ann Garvin, author of The Dog Year and On Maggie’s Watch
“The Coincidence of Coconut Cake is a read as satisfying as the last bite of dessert after a lovingly prepared meal. The novel is as much a celebration of the Midwest and regional food as it is a love story between chef Lou and food critic Al. I adored Lou and her quirky makeshift family of restaurant customers and co-workers. Their missteps and milestones kept me racing through the chapters.”
—Susan Gloss, author of Vintage
“What a wonderful treat! Delicious descriptions of food and love and Milwaukee (I know! Who knew?). A sweet, endearing read.”
—Megan Mulry, USA Today bestselling author of A Royal Pain
“Reichert whips up the perfect recipe for a deliciously fun read. Combine humor and romance with a dash of drama, then let it simmer. The sprinkle of Wisconsin pride is icing on an already irresistible cake. Warning: Do not read this book hungry!”
—Elizabeth Eulberg, author of The Lonely Hearts Club and Better Off Friends
“Reichert brings sweetness and substance to her scrumptious debut. Sign me up for second helpings!”
—Lisa Patton, bestselling author of Whistlin’ Dixie in a Nor’Easter
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To Grandma Luella,
for showing me the grace of food made with love and igniting my passion for all things coconut.
• • •
To my husband—
may our magnet collection continue to grow.
I think careful cooking is love, don’t you? The loveliest thing you can cook for someone who’s close to you is about as nice a valentine as you can give.
—JULIA CHILD
• CHAPTER ONE •
Lou hoisted up her gown and winced as she tottered across the parking lot. The sparkly four-inch heels had looked so pretty in the box, but they felt like a mortar and pestle grinding each bone in her foot. She missed her green Crocs.
Lou plucked at the tight elastic, squeezing her under the sleek black dress her fiancé, Devlin, had given her. He walked five steps ahead of her, so she scurried to catch up.
“Overstuffed truffle and foie gras sausage,” Lou said.
Devlin’s face crinkled in confusion. “What?”
“It’s a new dish, inspired by how I feel in these clothes. Maybe served over brown butter dumplings . . .” Lou tilted her head, visualizing the newly formed meal. Devlin frowned at her and sighed.
She wilted at the familiar reaction. “I’m sorry. It helps distract me.”
His features softened as he looked at her. “You’ll be fine. You look stunning.”
Lou gave a feeble smile, stepping into the soft, yellow light of the Milwaukee Country Club’s foyer, the cushy patterned carpet springing back with each step. Black-and-white pictures adorned the buttery walls, telling the club’s upper-crust history. Many showed eager young men in white standing behind wealthy gentlemen in funny pants. Hunger for something more burned in the young men’s eyes. Lou understood.
Lou turned toward Devlin, looping her arm through his.
“You didn’t need to ship me off to the salon all day, or spend so much on this dress.” She smoothed the fabric over her hips, the snug undergarments matching the tightness in her stomach. She wore a floor-length, black strapless column of jersey with matching elbow-length gloves—simple, elegant, and too expensive.
“It’s my gift to you. You never pamper yourself.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Get used to it. The future wife of a prominent attorney should enjoy a little spoiling.”
“How am I supposed to top all this for your birthday?”
“For starters, you’ll make your grandmother’s amazing coconut cake. I’ll tell you the rest later.” He winked.
Devlin smiled down at her, and Lou’s breath caught a little in her throat. He looked dashing in his tuxedo. Its classic lines fit his athletic frame, giving him an air of latent power and manliness; the faint smell of cloves lingered around him. His thick, dark hair offset his crystal-blue eyes—her very own Disney prince. He set her bejeweled arm on his and resumed their progress into the crowd. Lou clung to his Italian-wool-clad arm as if it were a life preserver as they wandered through the perfumed and primped throng of attorneys and spouses at the annual firm gala.
The private club swam with glittering women and powerful men. Waiters in white tuxedo jackets swerved through the crowd, delivering twenty-year-old scotch and white wine to thirsty guests. Additional waiters carried trays with appetizers, the obligatory bacon-wrapped water chestnuts and peeled shrimp with cocktail sauce. Lou sighed at the dull offerings, imagining what she could do with this party’s budget.
Devlin steered her toward a group of older men with elegant women by their sides.
“Bill, how are you?” Devlin said, extending his arm toward the largest man. “And you remember my beautiful fiancée, Elizabeth.” All eyes turned to her. Lou gritted her teeth at his introduction.
Bill turned to Devlin and Lou. “We were just talking about the new restaurant critic for the paper, A. W. Wodyski. Have you read his reviews?”
Devlin shook his head. “I’ve heard of him but haven’t had the time to read. The Churman case is taking more time than expected. Any good recommendations?”
“The opposite. He obliterates every restaurant he reviews. But he does it in the most entertaining way. Like Dennis Miller as a restaurant critic.”
“Really?” Lou faked indifference, biting back the real commentary she wanted to share about such arrogance.