Chapter 45
chapter
forty-five
MAREN
“This is the exact recipe I entered in the bake-off twenty years ago.” Annabelle juts her chin high and interlocks her fingers together at her navel. “It’s been in my family for generations.”
Some of the other ladies down the row ooh and ahh.
In front of us, the five judges mumble to one another in hushed tones, shuffling papers as they make notes after every bite of Annabelle’s southern tea cakes.
She’s been going on about this recipe ever since we lined up, but I’ve heard her talking about it long before today. She’s mentioned these cookies every time she’s visited my coffee truck—ever since news of the bake-off hit the town.
Annabelle stands tall three entrants away, with her silver-kissed hair twisted at the nape of her neck and the top teased to the heavens.
It’s probable that she made a special salon appointment for today, and I respect it.
The polished look of her almost makes me self-conscious of my last-minute outfit choice, the wild strands of my hair neither straightened nor curled—just there—and the crusted mascara in the corners of my eyes from sweating all morning by the oven and from Teagan’s disappearance.
I don’t look like a winner, by any means. I look and feel more like a sleep-deprived college student during the week of finals.
But when I peer through the gaps between the judges, I lock eyes with Nate. His smile is easy, and it brightens his entire demeanor. It naturally lights me on fire, especially with the dimple popping like it is.
It’s okay if I don’t win this contest. My self-worth is not tied to it, but with Nate and my friends cheering me on, I already feel like I’ve won.
Still, when Principal Weathers and the rest of the judges—many of whom I’ve known since I could walk—pick up my cookies, I hold my breath, nonetheless. It’s nerve-racking to be judged like this, any way I look at it.
Caroline paces in front of the judges, her steps far too graceful in such high heels. As the MC, she announces me as the next contestant and offers me a wink.
Cheyenne reaches over and squeezes my upper arm. “Good luck, babe.”
I pat her hand and thank her, my voice strained through the thickness of my throat.
Each judge smiles as they turn over the lavender Linzer cookies with caramel filling. They admire the leaf cutouts and hesitate to take a bite as if they’re afraid to ruin the design.
They finally dig in like they’d rehearsed the steps—study, bite, swallow. After eight other contestants, I imagine the judges probably have synced up their tasting process by now.
Wanda—my former Home Ec teacher—nods as she chews, and I lean forward, wishing there was something in front of me to lean on. Why don’t we get a chair? This is incredibly unsettling.
I stalk every movement my old teacher makes, following each bob of her throat like a psychopath. I’ve never cared so much about a person eating.
I don’t realize how hard I’m biting my lip until Cheyenne squeezes my arm again.
I release my bottom lip and run my tongue over the spot my teeth dug into to confirm there’s no blood, thankfully. Then I deeply inhale, and the sweet smells of fall warm me from the inside out. Cinnamon, pumpkin spice, and baked apples fill the air, and the scents cling to my oversized sweater.
I wrap my arms around myself as if to keep the smell there.
Soft music echoes from the various speakers set up around the square, low chatter from nearby vendors hums over us, and a few birds flap their wings, chirping as they dip and soar over the Thanksgiving festivities.
Kids with powdered sugar dusting their cheeks chase each other through the crowd. Teagan rushes after another girl with what appears to be caramel on her chin. Teagan’s yellow ribbon flings sideways from where it’s pinned over her heart.
The young girl did good. She got so many compliments from the judges and her friends. When her name was called for third place, complete with a ribbon and a gift card to Quinton’s, she smiled so big and brightly.
Her fan club cheered as loud as we might had we been at a pro football game, to the point where all heads turned toward us.
As the judges move on to Cheyenne’s cookie, I say, “Nice work with stenciling the leaf on your sugar cookies. That is not easy.”
“No, it wasn’t, but it was fun.” She shrugs. Her calm and collected energy is a far cry from my own erratic one.
The shutter of a camera goes off to my left, drawing my attention.
Nate stands on the sidelines, his camera hovering over his face as he captures shots of us, then the judges.
The Chamber of Commerce recruited him as the official event photographer for the day, and he was so happy to do it.
He’s talked about it for days like he’s been commissioned to take photos for the royal family.
“I’m excited to be part of such a big day for this town,” he’d said after he accepted the job.
And I’d smiled. I knew exactly what he meant.
Being a contestant for the re-launch of the annual Thanksgiving Bake-Off makes me feel special too. We’re cementing ourselves in Sapphire Creek history, and Nate and I are doing it together, with our families too. How can it not be special?
There’s one contestant left, and the judges breeze through it. They place their pens down practically at the same time. The rest of the contestants and I are frozen next to one another, suspended in the tense silence as we await the results.
I peek over at Nate again, who tilts his camera to the side so I can see his reassuring smile. It somewhat grounds me yet again, but the suspense has me in a chokehold.
This is it.
This is the moment I find out if I’ll be able to make the repairs and improvements to my livelihood sooner rather than later—and without the strain of yet another loan.
This might be a silly little cookie contest for the likes of Annabelle and her warped sense of pride, but the outcome of today could change my life.
I don’t know what’s sweating more—my palms or my ass.
The judges continue murmuring to one another as Principal Weathers brushes crumbs off his sweater vest, and Wanda dabs at her red lips with a napkin.
After what feels like an eternity, Wanda hands Caroline a folded sheet of paper, which she holds high. “The votes are in, Sapphire Creek!”
Applause erupts from the crowd, and my lungs practically collapse like a card tower.
“As a reminder, the cookies were each judged on overall taste, presentation, and innovation.” Caroline faces us with a wide, genuine smile.
“And before we announce the winners, I just want to say to all the contestants—congratulations and thank you for being here. Every entry looks amazing, and you should be so proud of yourselves.” She spins toward the crowd.
“Let’s give them another round of applause, y’all! ”
Blood roars in my ears, muffling the cheers.
With the piece of paper in front of her—my imminent fate rests in the folds of that paper—Caroline reads aloud, “In third place, and the winner of a brand-new Kitchen Aid mixer, we have Mrs. Anna Grace Brown and her pecan pie cookies!”
Mrs. Brown—the local doctor’s wife—jumps forward, her hair pinned in place much like Annabelle’s, but she’s got far fewer silver strands.
The string of pearls decorating her neck sways as she launches a mini-celebration on the short walk to claim her prize.
She clutches her chest as she accepts a certificate from one of the judges, and she holds it up high, thanking everyone for the recognition.
Two more to go.
The microphone screeches to life again as Caroline moves down the list. “In second place, and the winner of two thousand dollars, is Justine Lemmons and her carrot cake cookies!”
The high school librarian lurches forward, and I meet Addie’s gaze in the crowd. We share a secret smirk, as I recall all the times my friend has complained about Justine’s habit of drinking diluted apple cider vinegar in the teacher’s lounge. It drives Addie nuts, but the woman can bake.
I’ve tried one of her carrot cake cookies before when they were left over from the school. Addie had them at her house, and I couldn’t resist a taste.
They were chewy as hell, and the brown butter cream cheese frosting was what sweet dreams are made of. In a word, her cookies are divine. And they deserve a spot on the winners’ list.
Which only leaves one more prize.
“I can hardly take this suspense,” Cheyenne whispers to me, and the remaining contestants down the line mumble to one another too. I can’t hear what they’re saying over the ringing in my ears.
I could barely make out what Cheyenne said, and she’s standing only a few inches from me.
Caroline’s eyes flash over the next winner, but I try not to make anything of it. I could’ve imagined the subtle flare, but even if I didn’t, there’s no telling what it meant. She’s generally an animated person, so it’s perfectly reasonable for her to—
“Maren Clayton and her lavender Linzer cookies!”
My lips part.
What did she just say?
Caroline waves for me, but my vision blurs. The people around me fade, and I’m suddenly lightheaded.
Thankfully, strong arms wrap around me, and I instinctively melt into them.
Nate.
Nate is here, hugging me and essentially holding me together, because I think I just fucking won.
“You won, Lightning,” he whispers at my temple, as if he knew I needed confirmation that my ears are not playing tricks on me. “You won,” he repeats, and it’s louder this time.
I’m rattled from my trance as more people surround me, congratulating me on a job well done. Addie barrels into me for a bear hug, wedging herself between Nate and me, and Caroline joins us too, slipping a certificate into my hands and hunching over to wrap her arms around my neck.
I’m showered with love from people I care about so deeply, in a town that means the world to me. They make my moment of triumph that much sweeter.
The girls back away, but they don’t flee too far. They make just enough room for Nate to slide back into place in front of me, and he lands a fiercely firm kiss to my mouth. If I weren’t already dizzy, this kiss would have done the trick. It nearly knocks me on my ass.
It wouldn’t even embarrass me to fall backward. Not at this point. I’m too deliriously happy and relieved. I’m flying so high that nothing can touch me.
But then I search for Dixie.
I sweep the crowd for her brown eyes, maybe even a fashionable hat that she works the hell out of. On instinct, I scan the apple cider tent since I know how much she loves the drink this time of year, but a sour feeling pushes aside my previous joy.
She’s not here.
Nate cups my elbow. “What’s going on?” he asks, his question laced with concern.
“Have you seen Dixie?” Maybe I missed her. There are a lot of people, and my head is spinning with everything that’s happened today.
“I haven’t, but I’m sure she’s somewhere around here.
She wouldn’t miss this,” he offers, completely oblivious to our fight.
I haven’t found the right time to tell him yet, and while what he says is kind and appreciated, there’s a big chance she would miss this after the things we said to each other.
Which means she’s still pissed, and I need to talk to her as soon as possible. This can’t keep on forever.
I need my sister. Celebrating right now doesn’t feel complete without her.
“Is she coming over for dinner with everyone tonight?” Nate shifts to peer over his shoulder, likely searching for my sister.
“Not sure.”
His frown hits me square in the chest.
“I’ll text her.” I lean in to distract him—and myself—with a kiss. While it helps, I’m still reeling from Dixie’s absence.
“You sure you’re okay?” Nate dips his forehead to rest on mine, and I breathe him in, latching onto the comforting scent of him. It keeps me from sinking under the weight of disappointment.
I inhale one more whiff of him before I say, “I just want to celebrate.”
“And we will.” He smiles. “For the record, though—I’m not surprised you won. I’m just sorry the rest of the contestants had to go through the stress of it all, when you were clearly unmatched.”
I playfully shove him backward, my giggle erupting slowly at first before gaining momentum and becoming a full-fledged laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“He’s only speaking the truth, though.” Addie nods. “You’re a brilliant little baking ninja.”
“You should have that on a business card.” Nate’s eyes glitter with pride, and Addie once again agrees with him.
With a squeeze of my hand, he says, “Let’s get you an apple cider donut already.”
“You remember how much I love them?”
“Of course.” He wraps his arm around me and leads the way to the Pemberton Farm booth, where they sell one of my favorite fall treats.
Nate saunters like it’s no big deal that he remembered such a detail about me, but to me, it’s huge. Not only is it nice, but it also makes me feel seen.
He sees me. He always has, and it hasn’t changed.
I used to sometimes think that was a bad thing. How could it not be when he could see my flaws?
But the thing about Nate is that he accepts it all. He loves me, anyway.
When I’m with him, I’m the center of his universe. There’s no better feeling than not only being accepted, but also loved like this. It’s something I’ve wanted all my life, and now that I have it, it’s better than I imagined.
And it’s certainly been worth the wait.