“Scout’s promise.” Sara raised her fingers in a Girl Scout salute.
“Excellent. We’ll get this camera put away before we have to swear anyone else to silence, and our gal Jennifer here will go through all the details of the Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off with you. You’ll have to sign a non-disclosure and be ready to fly out to the studio kitchens on February seventh.”
Kelly blanched. “That’s so soon.”
“A problem?” Martin swiveled his head toward Jennifer.
“Of course not,” Kelly and Sara sang out in unison.
They both sucked in a breath at the same time. That wasn’t that far off. “How long will I be gone?” Kelly asked.
“Depends on how good you are.” Martin’s laugh had an evil undertone. “If you win, we’ll hold you for a few extra days to do some promo. You’ll be back by the eighteenth at the very latest. Call it ten days.”
“Let me get y’all something to snack on while Kelly signs those papers.” Sara ran behind the counter and started pulling dessert plates and forks out.
“This is a dream come true,” Kelly said. “Who nominated me?”
“Can’t say, but it was good timing. This year’s special Valentine’s Day edition has some major sponsors, and the prize money has doubled. We’ll film all of the episodes up until the finale. The finale will be filmed in front of a live studio audience on Valentine’s Day. First time we’ve ever done that. It’s brilliant, if I do say so myself. All the episodes will air on Valentine’s Day. Back to back. A full day of programming and interviews with the contestants.”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard half of that. All that was echoing in her brain was, Martin Schlipshel is in my bakery! “Call me Martin.”
“Is there anyone who might be expecting to spend Valentine’s Day with you whom we need to find a way to get to New York?”
Her laugh was almost too loud. “No. No plans on Valentine’s Day other than baking, and my team here can handle all of that.”
“Surprising. You’re such a lovely and smart woman,” Martin said.
That was awkward. As if being alone on Valentine’s Day wasn’t bad enough, announcing it kind of sucked. It was like he was looking for her big flaw. “Thank you,” she said, trying to sound polite.
“The network is so excited about this. We’ll be choosing the winner of the one-hundred-thousand-dollar prize before a live audience.”
“One hundred…thousand?”
Martin waved his hands in the air. “You’re in the big time now, lady. Enjoy every minute of it. I’ll let Jennifer go through all the details with you.”
Sara raised her tongs in the air like a dancing lobster in front of the pastry case. “What can I get for you? Everything was just baked this morning.”
Martin rubbed his hand across his chin as he stared into the case. “Do you have any of the four-layer caramel and coffee cake with mascarpone?” He smacked his lips. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it, and I had the mail-order one. I can only imagine how good it’ll be fresh.”
“You don’t have to imagine.” Sarah pulled the cake out of the case and sliced a generous piece, serving it up on a china dessert plate. “Coffee? Milk?”
“Coffee would be delightful. We’ll just tuck ourselves in that corner over there to keep things on the down-low,” Martin said.
As Kelly led Jennifer over to her office to get the papers signed, she watched Martin, long and lanky, scurry like a giant rat to the corner to devour his cake. It was almost comical.
And all this before seven in the morning. TGIF for sure.
Chapter Thirteen
Andrew climbed out of bed and wandered out to the kitchen for water. Mom had left a note on the counter.
I’m playing bridge this morning.
Be back before lunch.
So glad you’re here.
Love, Mom
The clock in the kitchen read 10:05. He’d slept hard last night. He opened the refrigerator still half in a daze, just like when he’d been back in school.
Only, one glance into the refrigerator brought him back to reality. Where the whole milk used to be was now soymilk, and fake butter. At least the eggs looked normal.
He got lucky with ready-packaged salad spinach that looked halfway decent in the bottom drawer, but the cheese was low-calorie. Will it even melt? He read the ingredients. Cheese food? He tossed it back in the fridge. The bacon was pre-cooked. It would have to do.
A little more scrounging turned up a jackpot. Someone must have sent them a gift basket for the holidays, because he found a few packs of still-sealed designer cheeses. A reserve apple smoked cheddar and a Sicilian jack cheese. He could work with that.
He texted Dawn.
Good morning, sis. Can I cook you breakfast? Mom’s at bridge.
Was just going to call you, she texted back. Just finished a yoga class. Sweaty but on my way.
Funny how much being home made him realize he missed spending time with Dawn. That “out of sight, out of mind” thing was true.
Gathering ingredients, he set them on the counter and then grabbed bowls and utensils. Right where they’d always been. He walked into the pantry, and sure enough, the potatoes and onions were right in the old wooden bin Granddad had made for Mom when Andrew had only been six or seven. He remembered because when he saw it he’d thought it was a laying box for the chickens he and Dawn were raising. He’d been so disappointed when they’d told him what it really was.
He sliced two potatoes and some onion and tossed them in olive oil with some spices, then fired up the gas stove. The cast iron skillet sputtered and sizzled as he browned the home fries.
By the time his sister got there, the room was filled with the savory scents of sage, rosemary, thyme, and bacon. He salted and wilted the spinach in a separate pan.
“I come bearing gifts,” Dawn said. She plunked a thermos on the counter then raised a carton of half and half in the air like
