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“The judge who used to be your teacher sounds like she suspects cheating,” Grath remarked as they came to table number nine.
“I don’t think so—she’s just always very strict,” Mattie said distractedly.
She was rapidly going over the inventory of ingredients and equipment her mother had brought for her. Clearly she had been certain that Mattie would give in and join the contest because she had dropped everything off the day before.
“Let’s see,” she muttered to herself. “Butter, flour, pecans, sugar, powdered sugar, vanilla…”
“This seems like a lot of ingredients,” Grath remarked, frowning.
“Not really—pecan sandy snowballs are basically just a kind of shortbread,” Mattie told him. “Only you replace some of the flour with pecan meal—which you grind yourself. The finer you get it, the lighter and fluffier the cookies come out.”
As she spoke, she verified that her mom had, indeed, brought her a mixer and a food processor as well as several large bowls and spoons and some parchment paper and baking pans. There were various other things too, that she probably wouldn’t need—what was she going to do with a rolling pin when these weren’t the cut-out kind of cookies? But her mother always liked to be prepared for every contingency.
“Yup—Mom thought of everything,” she said at last, feeling satisfied.
“I’m glad you’re well equipped,” Grath rumbled. “Do you mind if I find the fresher around here? I don’t think you’re in any danger. Most of the people in her are females and that bastard, Hartsford, is nowhere in sight.”
“The fresher?” Mattie frowned but then she remembered that was what the Kindred called the restroom. “Of course—it’s back in the main lobby by the stairs,” she told him.
“I won’t take long,” Grath promised. “I just drank too much of that bright orange juice your mother served us with breakfast.”
He took another look around, as though making sure Mattie was safe, and then headed off in the direction of the bathrooms.
After he left, Mattie looked around and felt a little surge of excitement. So here she was again—at the Christmas Cookie Bake-off! Andthistime, she might even have a chance to win. After all, Mrs. Kranst had been a tough teacher but she was also very fair—Mattie had gotten out of her class with a solid A.
She could feel the buzz of excitement in the air and someone had turned on the PA system. Christmas music was drifting out of the speakers in the corners, making it feel even more festive.
“Have yourself amerrylittle Christmas,” Mattie sang under her breath. “Let your heart be light…”
She was just getting to work, unwrapping the sticks of butter to dump into the bowl of her mixer, when a familiar voice said in her ear,
“Well—if it isn’t little Fatty-Mattie—back home in Christmasville!”
SEVENTEEN
GRATH
Grath finished using the fresher facilities and washed his hands scrupulously in the sink. There was an extremely inefficient blow dryer on the wall—he only bothered with it a moment before he decided to dry his hands himself by sending more heat to them. This only took seconds and then he was making his way back to the large hall where the Bake-off was being held.
He headed back towards table number nine but before he got there, he saw that Mattie was speaking to another female. She was tall and thin and had long blonde hair—she also looked somewhat familiar. After a moment of scrutinizing her, Grath realized she was one of the skeleton-girls he had seen in the book that had pictures of Madeline’s formative education years.
Amanda Hutchinson—that’s her, I’m sure of it!
His protective instincts rose and he was about to charge in and put himself between Madeline and her old nemesis but he realized in a moment that she wasn’t in any physical danger. He decided to hang back and listen instead, to see what the two females were talking about. Then he could best decide how to approach the situation.
“…can’t believe you’re back in town! Did you come just for the Bake-off?” the female named Amanda asked.
“Not exactly—I’m just here to see family. My mom decided to enter me at the last minute.” Madeline’s voice sounded stiff and the look on her face wasn’t a very happy one.
“Maybe you think you’ll finally have a chance to win since my uncle isn’t a judge anymore, but don’t count on it,Fatty-Mattie,”Amanda sing-songed.
“Don’t call me that,” Madeline said in a low voice.
“Why not? It’s still true, isn’t it?” The skeleton girl gave her a scornful look. “You know, I would have thought you’d have lost weight after high school but IguessI was wrong.”
“I’m happy with my curves,” Madeline said steadily. “And I refuse to let you body shame me like you did in high school.”
“Oh,happy with our curves,are we?” Amanda Hutchinson gave a nasty-sounding laugh. “Well I guess you’re happy allalonethen. I don’t see a ring on your finger,Fatty-Mattie!”
