Chapter 4
Dinner that night was catered — and much-appreciated, as Laurin’s nerves were shot by the next twist in their tree-decorating challenge.
They’d returned from Walmart to find everyone’s trees on their porches, and when Greg complained that his decorations would blow away — confirming Candace’s glitter comment — they were told they’d be locked inside all night and only given a half hour to physically decorate the tree the next day.
The rest of the night and the next morning should be spent crafting their ornaments.
Candace tucked herself away in the tiny third bedroom. She didn’t tell Laurin that he had to stay out, but she made it clear enough by closing the door behind her. When the cameraman came to get footage, she closed him in with her for the filming and inevitable interview.
Laurin didn’t dwell on whatever her issue was, even though it was beginning to weigh on him for reasons beyond the competition.
The supplies she’d purchased and the whirring of the sewing machine behind the door indicated that she had a strong concept as well as the competency and drive to get the job done.
Why, then, was she refusing to communicate with him?
He decided that worrying about Candace was a fruitless endeavor and got to work on the oranges.
Candying them was easy but time-consuming, and with this extra twist, he thought it best if he strung them up for easy hanging.
When the catering crew showed up with dinner, he had four batches cooling, but there were a dozen more to go.
Candace emerged from the spare room looking relaxed and satisfied with herself, if not a tad frizzy.
Candace was known for always being impeccable, so of course it was with no cameras on her that her pretty wool skirt had loose threads snagged into the fibers.
Her pale hair was fluffed in a halo, the strays loosening from the ponytail.
He liked it. She looked good when she wasn’t flawless.
“It smells delicious in here,” she marveled while she grabbed plates from the cabinet, which he liked even more. Maybe he’d see more of this softer, friendlier side of Candace.
“Yeah, I’m hungry, too,” he agreed, holding back his smile.
He popped the lid off the pan to find a simple but tasty and filling meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and Brussels sprouts.
His only complaint was he didn’t think there’d be enough for them both, so he motioned for Candace to take what she wanted before taking whatever was left.
There were snacks in the pantry to round out his meal.
“I meant your oranges.”
Laurin nearly pointed out that this was the nicest thing she’d ever said to him, but then he thought of the cat that used to live under his garden shed. Every time he’d tried to approach it, it hissed and ran off, but it would eat out of his hand when he sat and held the food out long enough.
If he was going to make Candace warm up to him, at least enough for them to survive the cabin together, he suspected he’d have to ply her with little treats.
“Take some more,” he said when he saw she’d gotten a portion no bigger than what he’d put on Vivvy’s Doc McStuffins lunch plate.
Her cheeks pinked up. “I’m good, thanks.”
He left some in the pan in case she changed her mind, noting that she fussed with selecting a drink until he’d already sat down at the table, only afterward grabbing a bottle of water. She headed back toward the spare room with her meal.
“Why don’t you take a break for a couple minutes?” he asked.
She glanced desperately between the table and the spare room a few times before giving up and joining him.
She sat next to him and kept her head down, avoiding eye contact, but he was a patient man.
After five minutes of utter silence, she finally said, “Are you going to dust the oranges with sugar?”
Laurin mentally patted himself on the back. This feral kitty was nudging in closer. “I was going to dip them in syrup again for a more even shine. Do you think I should do crystallized sugar instead? Give some competition to . . . what did you call him? Glitter Greg?”
“I’m more worried about Perfect Patty ragging on those uneven coats.”
“You gave her a nickname, too?”
“Everyone gets a nickname if they do enough of these. None of them are very nice, but you get used to it.” She nearly fell for his ease and looked up at him but quickly darted her blue eyes down to her plate once she saw Laurin looking back at her.
“Even Belle? She’s like America’s grandma.”
Candace grunted. “Give her a couple more days, and you’ll see why we call her Hell’s Belles.”
“How about you?” Laurin couldn’t help asking. After Summer Bakes, there were probably dozens. Conniving Candace. Calamity Candace. Kissing Candace.
She surprised him with, “Queen Candace,” although she looked like there was nothing royal about it. “Don’t ask. I’m not going to explain it to you.”
“My teammates called me Friendly Fire,” Laurin said before she could run off.
“This one match, I took a bad blow to my head. Thought I was fine, kept going. A couple minutes later, I got the ball and ran it all the way down the field — the wrong way. My mates were so stunned they didn’t get what was happening to stop me until it was too late.
I scored on my own team. We lost the match because of that.
It was my freshman year, and that nickname stuck with me the whole way through three football clubs.
Some of my best mates call me that to this day.
At first, they were mocking me, but now it’s just camaraderie. ”
He’d gotten her attention, and her pretty eyes had settled on him, sparkling with mirth at the funny story. The corner of her lips even tugged up. Not enough to be a smile, though. In the end, it twisted into a snarl.
“There’s no camaraderie in mine, trust me.” She pushed her seat out too hard but didn’t run off until she’d washed her dishes and tucked the leftovers in the fridge.
She slammed the spare room’s door shut, and he thought that was the last he’d see of her for the evening, but then she peeked out and said, “I’ll help you string the oranges in the morning, if you want,” before closing herself back in.
He’d have her eating out of his hand in time — if they could just survive these challenges.
Candace realized how badly she’d misjudged things at the ten-minute warning.
The horseshoe of cabins had, at its center, a rough pole mounted with a loudspeaker.
It was at eleven that morning, when she and Laurin decided they had done everything that they could to prepare and he was insisting they have a cup of tea, that the loudspeaker came alive.
It was so loud it shook the windows of the cabin, and Candace had to cover her ears to keep them from ringing.
“Contestants! This is Mike. We’re going to open your doors in two min—What?
Okay, three minutes. Jannie and Kate are set up out front here, cameras are ready to go live.
Everything is automated in your cabins, so when we start filming, the screens mounted above your doors will air the main camera feed.
You don’t have to turn them on or . . . okay, you do have to turn them on.
Now. Go turn them on. If you can give us a thumbs-up at your window so we know it’s on.
Don’t touch the glass . . . uh, crew, ah, crew guy.
You, over there by Cabin #3. Yeah, see what they’re freaking out about.
We have cameras on each of your porches, so when the door opens, I need everyone to rush outside holding a bunch of supplies.
We need a big open here since, ha! The footage from the store sucked. ”
Candace was glad Lucas Barrett wasn’t producing this season. She didn’t know if she’d have been able to do it if he was. But seriously, where did they find this Mike guy? She’d have to drill Jannie about it later.
“So we’re gonna need a lot more energy from you guys today.
Just explode right out and get on those trees!
We’re starting the timer at—you ladies good?
Hey, crew guy? Your walkie, yeah? You got .
. . oh. Hey everyone, there’s remotes for your TVs on the windowsill.
We’re gonna put the timer at twenty-five minutes when you come out, but you have thirty minutes.
At the twenty-five mark, we’re going to take testimonials, and then we’ll do the last five.
The judges will be critiquing your toppers before you put them on, so keep those in your cabins with your edible samples. We good? Good, yeah.”
Candace thought they were doing well with their decorations — the tree filled up nicely, and the garlands they’d made tied it together — until they were told they had ten minutes left to decorate.
She stepped out to see if that meant ten on the timer plus the additional five or ten total and got a peek at everyone else’s.
They looked so much better than hers.
Patty and Zara’s could have been an ad for a jeweler.
With its silver bows, gold leaf popcorn balls, and diamond rock candy icicles, all it needed was some felt ring boxes.
Debbie and Stephanie had gone tacky with pink and sea foam green, but the white chocolate shells and pink flamingo cookies made it ready for any Florida condo.
Even Greg and Mark’s monstrosity, so glittery that when the sun hit it, it blinded, showed excellent craftsmanship.
The decorations darkened in a flawless ombre from soft lavender to deep eggplant, the natural green of the tree providing an excellent canvas to showcase the work.