Chapter Twelve
Clive was set up for the reception on the Residence’s Second Floor in the family kitchen and dining room. Waiters hustled in and out bearing trays of champagne and canapes: bruschetta with smoked salmon and basil, shrimp stuffed with prosciutto and Stilton cheese, and his little chocolate bouquets.
Each bouquet was made up of five slender Pocky sticks thinner than a pencil and half as long. Three shades of chocolate: dark, milk, and white. Then to complement the white, he’d started with a white chocolate base to make two more: blueberry blue and also apple red. He’d made two separate biscuit doughs: a plain one beneath the first four, plus a maple syrup-honey-flavored core for the fifth red stick. All tied so that they stood together like a thistle bloom, using tiny golden
