“What are you making?” Viv scooted up to the counter and stuck her finger in the icing bowl. She was always the icing licker of the bunch. “Buttercream,” she confirmed by taste test.

“Your taste buds are correct. This is dacquoise.”

Vivienne examined the layers of cake. “I see frosting and sponge cake.”

“The layers are hazelnut sponge cake, and the icing is espresso-flavored.”

“How do you get the layers to line up so perfectly?”

“Ha! That’s the problem. This is the third time I’m making it this week.”

“It’s beautiful, Tessa. It looks just like the ones in Paris.”

“Thank you.” She forced herself to take the compliment for once. But what she was doing now was a lot more important than baking for stress relief. The recipes she was experimenting with had stakes attached. People dining in Leo’s restaurant would eat them, not just admire how pretty they were on YouTube.

“What do you do with the ones that don’t work out?” Vivienne asked. “I wish gluten didn’t hate me so I could help you with the leftovers.”

“Sometimes I take them to one of the churches to serve at meetings, or if I bring them on a Thursday, Mr. Cartwright drives them to a domestic violence shelter in Indy.”

“You’re always thinking of other people.”

“No, just being practical.” That’s who she was.

Not that she would begrudge her beautiful, sparkling youngest sister her glamorous Parisian life. It was just that Vivienne was a constant reminder of what Tessa’s life wasn’t. But she was too busy to really think about that now.

Tessa smiled. “Thank you for helping out in the bakery while you’re home. I know it’s a chore for you, but I want you to know it’s meant a lot to me to have extra time to practice my desserts.”

“I’m glad I can help in a small way.” Tessa felt Vivienne’s gaze on her as she iced a layer. “Because I haven’t exactly been here to help the family, have I?”

Tessa stopped icing. Vivienne’s blue eyes looked troubled. “You weren’t supposed to be here, Viv. You have a life somewhere else.”

“I was spoiled. I begged to go to Paris. You made sacrifices that enabled me to do that.” Viv’s voice was low and quiet.

Opportunity had knocked for Vivienne, and yes, they’d all sacrificed for her to take it. Although at times the fabulous photos from France had burned straight into Tessa’s soul. “That’s what families do, Viv.”

Vivienne tapped her phone on the worn wooden counter. “I—I just want you to know that everything you did for me wasn’t in vain.”