Chapter 8
Eight
From the texts of Holly Jo Hadley
and Candace “Candy” Caroline Cane
HOLLY: Tell me it’s not crazy to wear my sexy blue sweater to a baking competition. All my team members are adults. Well, most of them, anyway, and I’m a veteran gingerbread decorator. I can get the job done without making a mess of myself. Right?
CANDY: And why are we wanting to wear our sexy blue sweater with the magical cleavage-enhancing powers to a cheesy competition in the stinky old community hall?
HOLLY: It’s not cheesy! The Gingerbread Jubilee is one of my favorite parts of the holiday season!
CANDY: Even though you lose every year and beat yourself up about it for days after?
HOLLY: I don’t beat myself up. I reflect on where I could have improved. And since last year, I have reflected so thoroughly, I’m totally ready to lead my team to victory. Therefore, I would like to look extra cute when they take my picture for the paper.
CANDY: Lies! You ice cookies on a bed of lies!!
HOLLY: FINE! I want to look sexy for Luke, so he’ll stop trying to resist my charms and lick icing off my lips behind the community center when we’re done cleaning up the mess. Is that what you want to hear?
CANDY: Not what I wanted to hear, no, but I’m a fan of the truth. And the truth is that this man is only here for a few more weeks. You shouldn’t get attached.
HOLLY: The city isn’t that far away…
CANDY: It’s five hours by train.
HOLLY: I could drive…
CANDY: Still three hours, if the traffic isn’t miserable, and the little Honda that could won’t survive two months of that before it breaks down.
If it’s going to work, the cranky billionaire would have to be willing to do his share of travelling.
But it doesn’t look like he can maintain a relationship with a woman who lives three blocks away from him in Manhattan, so…
HOLLY: You’ve been stalking the gossip section.
CANDY: I have. As should you.
HOLLY: I did.
CANDY: Then you know he’s an emotionally constipated workaholic.
HOLLY: I know he hasn’t met the right woman yet. That’s obvious.
CANDY: The one who will make him want to change? Yeah, that’s because she doesn’t exist. Thirty-five-year-old men are already set in their ways. It’s too late for change.
HOLLY: That’s not fair! We’re both in our thirties, and we change all the time.
CANDY: Do we? I mean…I’ve been doing the same thing every day for a long, long time. I’m honestly not sure I’m all that excited about it anymore, but I keep getting up and going through the motions, no matter how many rich people complain about the tiny marshmallows.
HOLLY: You’re just hitting the Christmas burnout wall. It happens every year. You’ll feel better by the time Valentine’s Day rolls around. You always do.
CANDY: You’re probably right. Thanks for the perspective.
HOLLY: You’re welcome. And thank you for yours. I appreciate your honesty, even if we don’t always agree.
CANDY: So, you’re going to pull your heart out of your chest and throw it at the grumpy billionaire like a horny octopus?
HOLLY: Like the very horniest octopus. And I’m going to look hot doing it in my favorite blue sweater. Thank you for telling me that octopi pull their penises off and throw them at their mates, by the way. I can’t see an octopus dish on a menu anymore without thinking of you. And penises.
CANDY: You’re welcome. And it’s not all octopi. Just certain species. Just like all men aren’t beyond transformation. This one might surprise me. I hope he does. You know all I want is for you to be happy.
HOLLY: I do. Love you, lovely.
CANDY: Love you, too. Sending good gingerbread building vibes. Don’t forget to wait until the egg whites are nice and foamy to add the cream of tartar. That’s the secret to the perfect gingerbread icing.
HOLLY: Thank you! Will do. And I’ll send pictures if we win.
CANDY: WHEN you win, you mean.
HOLLY: You’re right. I do.