Everyone remembers Scruples, right? Originally published in 1978, it was the first juicy book I ever read (not, however, in 1978). I remember reading about the young Wilhelmina Hunnenwell Winthrop (Honey for short) from an old Bostonian family. I felt sorry for this young girl, motherless and ignored by her father, avoided by her peers. Doted on by Hannah the nursemaid/cook/housekeeper.
This Hannah would spoil her the only way she knew. Through feeding her. Honey realised, as she got older, she didn't have the same sort of family as her local friends. She didn't have the mother and the father – her father was, after all, always working. She just had Hannah. And Hannah would cook her cookies, pies, cakes, a vast array of dishes every single day.
To make up for her lack of mother and siblings, Honey would boast about her monied cousins and relatives. It did not bring her friends. And her cousins never seemed to take to her either. Perhaps sensing this, Hannah just baked for her all the more. She baked for love.
Until, that is, Honey went to Paris. And it all changed.
In Paris, Honey emerged as Billy. She returned to America after one year and went to the Katharine Gibbs School to learn shorthand and typing and found herself a job working for The Ikehorn Enterprises. Where she ended up marrying the billionaire owner himself. And that is where the story really starts...