Chapter 9
The other contestants exchanged looks when Laurin and Candace returned an hour later in a golf cart Laurin drove himself.
They’d had some trouble getting back — the woods were even denser than Laurin realized as he’d entered them — and Candace had gone catatonic and splotchy purple in the face by then.
Laurin knew full well how raw she felt; he’d lost himself to a bottle for several months after the best doctors in the world had given up on his knee.
They lucked out finding an abandoned golf cart with the keys in the ignition when they’d gotten back to the campground, and Laurin took it as a sign, borrowing it to take them back to the cabin. He took care of Candace as much as she let him, cleaning her knuckles and wrapping them in clean gauze.
She stopped him at dusting off leaves that clung to her sweater, and he excused himself to put on a clean shirt. She was back to a full scowl by the time they loaded into the golf cart again, but he saw through that now.
Despite the looks from the contestants, who were quick to notice his new shirt and her wrapped hand, the production crew acknowledged nothing. Deliberation must have gone on longer than expected, but everyone knew Greg was going home. That meant the delay had been over the winner.
That irritated Laurin slightly. There was no mystery that the top bakers were Candace and Belle, and Candace’s were better. He’d tried all of hers and two of Belle’s, and there was no way Belle’s refrigerator cookie was good enough to close the gap.
The bourbon in the turtles was all flavor and no burn.
He had no idea how Candace had managed to cook off the alcohol so well, and she’d already made it clear in her interview that she wasn’t telling.
And the strawberry cookies were absolutely the science she claimed they were.
Laurin had always been impressed with the recipes she came up with, but to actually taste them?
She put his mother to shame.
When they were led back in, it was to a row of stools in front of the work stations.
They were told where to sit, and Laurin was between Greg and Candace.
The judges came out from the pop-up tent where deliberation was filmed, and by the time everyone was set to start rolling again, most contestants were holding hands.
Not Candace, though. Nope, Candace had her right arm across her chest, her damaged hand tucked away to prop up the other arm so she could chew on her nail. It was a signature move of hers, one fans of the show were forever commenting about on social media.
Why does Candace always look like she just can’t with this right now? #Food2LoveBakeOff
“Candace,” Mike chirped over the loudspeaker. “Can you put your hands in your lap?”
Several people on set, contestants and crew alike, glanced over to see what horrible thing she was doing with her hands, and they were all bewildered by Candace just being Candace.
She glanced at Laurin and then Harper on her other side before doing as she was told, still careful to hide her right under her left.
“Great. And can you cross your ankles the other way?”
This elicited a stink-eye from her, but it was focused more at the cosmos than any tangible representation of the director.
She followed the command, swapping the cross and the tilt of her knees.
The shift caused her whole body to turn slightly toward Laurin and the center of the row, so he guessed it was to get a better angle from her on camera.
“Great, thanks. Greg, don’t hold Laurin’s hand.”
Laurin wasn’t going to say anything, but yeah, that was a little weird for him. He was more used to supporting teammates with high fives and firm pats on the back. Hugs at amazing victories only.
Kate and Jannie gave their intros. Lacey and Dorothy made a big speech about how difficult it had been to decide and how impressed they were with everyone’s cookies.
The jabs at the lowest-scoring contestants were gently thrown, which was great because Laurin was worried Greg might start blubbering and then he’d have to take the guy’s hand, for sure.
The hosts started the breakdown of the rankings at the middle, informing Laurin, Mark, Zara, and Patty that they’d all done well, and they may not have presented the best cookies, but they should be proud of what they did create.
Laurin was more than happy with that. He had gone into the challenge expecting to be in the bottom two.
He glanced at Candace to see if she would at least have a smug expression of victory on her face, something to acknowledge how much she had helped him, but there was nothing except a sigh and a longing gaze at her nails.
Her prickly exterior may have cracked slightly this afternoon, but she was in no way hulled by it.
And what had her outburst before attacking the tree even meant?
It wasn’t two consenting adults? Was she really implying that Lucas had sexually harassed her?
Assaulted her, even? Laurin wasn’t an idiot or naive about the world.
He knew how often men got inappropriate with women.
But there was no way that would happen here with all the witnesses and cameras.
There would have been plenty of evidence if she’d protested his advances.
“Two of you absolutely outshone the rest,” Dorothy said. “Belle, your mocha chews certainly woke up my taste buds, and the honey gooey bars brought me right back to quiet evenings sipping green tea on my porch. The caramel lattice on your chocolate shortbread was flawlessly elegant.”
“Candace,” Lacey said. “I gotta admit I’ve been hoping for an opportunity to try some of your pastries for ages, and you did not disappoint.
That was one of the best uses of alcohol in a sweet I’ve ever experienced.
That’s the turtle. Was there alcohol in the strawberry and champagne sandwiches?
We debated about that for ages and wrote it off as a mystery — a good one. ”
“I suppose it should remain a mystery then,” Candace said quietly.
Everyone else surely took this as a snippy comeback, but Laurin saw her left hand tighten over her right. He doubted she had more of a voice than that whisper.
He covered her hands with his to hide them from the camera. She tensed up but relaxed a moment later. Once Lacey started to talk again, Candace took one hesitant look at Laurin, and he was irrationally pleased with the flush in her cheeks.
“Well, ladies, you put us in a really tough spot.”
“So we based our decision mostly on your presentation.”
Candace went very still.
“You had two very different displays.”
“Yes, one elegant, one whimsical.”
Candace started working hard on her lipstick.
“But in the end, we decided on . . . “
Dorothy exchanged looks before saying in unison, “Congratulations, Belle! You’re this week’s winner!”
Candace snatched her hands away from Laurin and didn’t talk to him for the rest of the night.
The game was rigged. It always had been. The judges got to choose the bottom and top two, but when there was any difficulty deciding the winner or loser, the director decided. Jannie had let that slip to Candace on a mojito-fueled break night, but she’d always figured that anyway.
It hurt to be on this side of it. Like, a lot.
Candace had taken second place plenty of times over the years, always gracefully.
There needed to be a balance among the veterans to keep the fans coming back.
If Perfect Patty won every single candy challenge, the audience would fuss about the show being predictable or stop watching entirely.
But Candace needed this win to prove that she was here on merit and her successful run on the show hadn’t been engineered as a favor from the last director.
That was the nicest way to describe it. Social media was far uglier about it. Candace was sure grandmas were signing up for Reddit just to rant about how much of a floozy she was.
There was another long break between episode recordings — the next episode had to be filmed on Saturday, according to Mark.
This usually meant one thing, and Candace confirmed it the next day when she borrowed a bike from the camp hosts and pedaled up a particularly grueling trail.
When she reached the end of the trail, she found herself overlooking the campground.
There was another loop similar to the one the Bake-Off had taken over, and it was now getting Christmas-ified with the same white gunk that coated their loop.
Most of the activity was obscured by the pavilion roof, but the trucks parked around it looked more like event organizers than film crew.
A celebration was happening there on Saturday, and the Food2Love Bake-Off was catering. Happened every season.
This was bad news for Candace. The judges would be guests of the event, and they always cared more about what stuff looked like than what it tasted like.
The food couldn’t taste bad, of course, but flavor was more of a box to be checked than a range to be graded on when civilians were judging.
Unless there was a disaster, Candace was a prime candidate for elimination.
She worked even harder on avoiding Laurin during the break, packing herself a lunch and snacks in the mess hall every morning before voyaging out into the wilderness, not returning until dusk.
She’d have pitched a tent out there if she weren’t worried about a search party.
At night, she stayed in her room despite the temperature drop, burying herself under a mountain of blankets so she wouldn’t have to sit by Laurin and the friends he’d quickly amassed.
She eavesdropped, though. She couldn’t help it. She was waiting for him to bring up the note she’d penned for him.
Incredibly, she never heard a peep about it, but she was now regretting helping him.
If the judges were ladies, and he got to flash that smile at them?
He’d steal Candace’s place right out from under her.
If they were soccer fans and recognized him, it would be even worse; celebrities were always judged more leniently.
It would have been better if she’d helped Glitter Greg instead and sent Laurin home.
She woke before dawn on Saturday morning, just like she always did, and found the swelling in her right hand had finally subsided.
The knuckles were still raw, but the pain was mostly gone, so she flexed her fingers to warm them up and watched the sunrise from her bedroom window while she sipped a gas station Frappuccino.
Sure, she’d prefer a real cup of coffee, but Laurin was in the kitchen.
Hard pass.
She changed her outfit several times, worrying that no matter how high the collar, everything was too close to the skirt/cardigan/lace bow combination that people now said was “too innocent” and “meant to fool everyone.” In reality, Candace had grown up in boarding schools.
She was over a decade out from school, but her uniform was what she was still most comfortable in.
She settled on a dress instead, a sophisticated but classic lace boatneck in navy adorned with only a thin cream ribbon at the waist. She chose it because it was slightly longer than her skirts, landing right at the knee.
Nothing at all immodest, no chance of someone accusing her of giving the camera a peek up her skirt if she had to get on a ladder.
Unfortunately, the dress didn’t pair well with the stockings her crazy Great-Aunt Miriam liked to knit her — no one else in the family would take the stockings, but Candace adored them — so she slathered a thick coat of foundation on her right leg to hide the tattoo there.
At the front door, she met up with Laurin.
His eyes were as languid as ever in their perusal of her outfit, and Candace’s were quick in equal measure to glare — just so he wouldn’t get any false ideas about the glow she felt in her cheeks at the slow pan of his eyes.
When he realized she’d caught him, he laughed in that easy, unshakable way of his, locked his elbow with hers, and led her to the third challenge.