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“Can’t have a winning cake without frosting,” he said, handing them over. “Save me a slice.”
Maggie shouted a thanks at his back, as she scooped up the frosting with the bigger of the two spatulas. Her hands felt clumsy as she covered the sides. She’d never enjoyed working with the bigger one, but she needed to get the cake frosted. Now. The bottom wasn’t as clean as she’d like, but a decorative frosting edge would cover it.
“Ten minutes,” came the reminder over the loudspeaker and Maggie felt the audience’s energy speed up along with her heart rate. She quickly flipped the edge of her piping bag and filled it, stopping twice to wipe her damp hands on her towel.
She spun the cake and eyed it critically. It wouldn’t be the masterpiece she’d dreamed of, but she still had a fighting chance. She put the star tip next to the cake’s bottom and focused on making identical shells for the edge while revising her plan for the top of the cake. There wasn’t enough time to futz with the faux lattice top, but she had to do something.
“Five minutes.” Hurry, she thought, as she changed her decorating tip. But don’t rush. Maggie bit her lower lip in concentration. Focusing on the task at hand and shushing the voices in her head, telling her she’d blown it. She should have checked to make sure she had everything she needed while the cakes baked instead of watching the crowd and Lucas. It looked like he, Bash, and Cal were having fun, which she usually did while baking. But not now. Not when today determined her future.
The beaded border along the top was done, and she quickly changed to a leaf tip of the same size. If I vary the lengths, the sides will look more interesting, she thought, pleased with her improvisation.
“Two minutes.” Maggie muttered a curse as she tossed out her latest plan. She focused on piping identical leaves, each centered on a bead—or mini-apple in her mind—hoping the consistency would earn her points.
“One minute.” Plenty of time, she coached herself as she eyed the remaining cake. You’ve got this, Lucas’s voice sounded in her head.
“Thirty seconds.” Maggie’s hands shook, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Almost done, she thought, turning the cake for the remaining section.
“Ten seconds.” Maggie piped the last leaf and tossed the pastry bag aside. She wiped her hands on her apron and carefully slid the cake onto the cake stand. Grabbing the towel on her shoulder, Maggie wet a corner, intent on wiping the smudges from the cake stand.
“Time. Contestants, hands in the air and step away.” Maggie stepped back and glared at the smudge, worried that it ruined what was otherwise a decent presentation. Not the masterpiece she’d created in her head, but an attractive cake in a regional baking contest.
Maggie shook hands with the bakers on either side of her. They’d done it before they’d started, but now that they’d been through the same experience together, it felt personal. Before, they’d only felt like competitors, but now, Maggie had a soft spot in her heart and wished them well. But not as well as she hoped for herself.
The ad exec from Seattle, who baked to relax, and the orthodontist from Redmond, who did it to connect with her children, didn’t need to win. They were here for fun and something unique to add to their holiday cards. Their lives wouldn’t change, but hers would. Maggie had to win.
She sagged against her back wall and listened as Cascade City’s mayor introduced the judges: the CEO from QV Flour and Milling, Isaac Miller, and its culinary director, Megan Nile; Jaylin Bacall, a pastry chef from Las Vegas; Kirby Ford, a former television chef from The Food Network, turned restaurateur; and Glenn Reid, the president of the local farmers’ association.
The CEO thanked everyone for participating, thanked the audience, and thanked the fire department for their quick response. As the CEO talked, the host went from station to station, having the competitors draw numbers from a hat to determine the judging order. Seven. Seven’s good, right?
The first competitor made her way to the judging table. Maggie’s nose twitched as she walked by, and her stomach growled. Decadent-looking brownies, which included caramel and walnut pieces. Maggie made a note to contact her for the recipe. She wanted to bake and serve brownies like that when she owned Brewster’s.
The competitor placed the brownies in front of the judges as the host peppered her with questions about her baking history, what was in the brownies, and how she’d come up with the combination. Each judge took a small piece and scrutinized it before taking a small bite. The culinary director cut into the middle of the pan and pulled out a piece. She frowned slightly and showed it to the pastry chef. Underdone, thought Maggie, glad she’d decided on a cake and not on brownies, even though assembly and frosting had nearly been the death of her.
It seemed like the next few competitors fared well, but it was hard to tell. The judges had their poker faces firmly in place. The Tetons defensive team approached the table and a few members of the audience cheered. “And what do we have here?” the restaurateur asked, taking a muffin when they passed the plate to him.
“Power muffins,” the big guy said, and Maggie wondered if this was the teammate they called Oregon.
“We used a mix of QV enriched white flour and whole wheat flour, dried blueberries and cherries from a local farm and nuts from another,” another player said, when it became obvious the judges wanted to know more and the big guy wouldn’t talk. The judges strained to break the muffins, and two of them used knives. Lucas grinned, enjoying his teammates’ misfortune. The judges were silent as they struggled with chewing. The CEO drank half a glass of water.
“Interesting flavor and texture,” the pastry chef said.
“That would be the protein powder, ma’am,” the other player said.
“And do you eat these often?” the culinary director asked.
The big guy scratched his head. “Something like this, but this is the first time we made it like this.” Maggie remembered them arguing shortly after the countdown clock had started.
“So, this is a new recipe, an untested recipe?” the culinary director asked, her surprise and incredulity clear.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Interesting,” said the CEO. The defensive team walked back to their kitchen while the CEO and culinary director poked and prodded the remaining muffins. From their expressions and untouched muffins, it was clear the Tetons’ offensive team had an excellent chance of beating the defense’s doorstops disguised as muffins.
An apple pie was next, and from the judges’ smiles, it was a hit. Or an excellent palate cleanser, Maggie told herself as doubt crept in. Lucas, Cal, and Bash approached the table.
“Tamales,” Lucas said, as the judges served themselves.
“A family recipe?”
