I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
“Hello, finalists,” Martin said.
She smiled and said, “Hello.”
“Are you ready for the final round of Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off?”
“Yes, sir.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if whoever was in the other kitchen just tossed their white flour sack towel into the air and said, “Nope. Think I’m done.” And then Martin awarded me the winner without the next grueling eight-hour task?
“I thought so,” he said.
A girl can dream.
“Here are the guidelines.” As Martin began to explain, two men in black chef jackets wheeled in a whiteboard with the details printed on it. “You’ll have eight hours. Each of you has been assigned an assistant. Your assistant is an accomplished sous chef from our own Four Square Restaurant here in Manhattan. They’re here to assistant you in any way you see fit.”
Kelly heard the door open to the studio, and in walked a young man in a white chef’s coat. “Hi, Thank you so much. I’m Kelly.”
“I know. I’ve been watching you. I’m excited to be here to help. I’m Randy.”
“So nice to meet you. Thank you.”
“The dimensions of your entry,” Martin continued, “from the table to the top of whatever is tallest on your masterpiece can be no shorter than twenty-three inches, and no taller than forty-seven inches. Any original recipe will do, so bring out a twist. You’ll display your whole entry as one. Afterward, we’ll pull eight servings. Six for the judges—our three judges from the previous rounds and three celebrity judges. One serving for me, in case of a tie, and one piece for the competition to try.”
Kelly was already doing the math in her head. She knew from experience that her multi-layer cakes she made every day of the week measured a whopping eight inches tall. The height was what everyone commented on, and no matter how thin you sliced that cake the customer felt like they’d gotten a whopper of a piece. She’d need three of those to get to the minimum height.
Was taller better? Probably more impressive.
“The theme this Valentine’s Day is…”
A drum roll vibrated through the studios.
“Marry Me.”
The audience applauded, and through it all Kelly heard a laugh that reminded her of Andrew’s. She shook the interrupting thought. Surely it was the Marry Me theme taunting her memory, since Andrew was the only man to ever say those two words to her. Her nose tickled, and for a fleeting second she thought she might tear up. He’s in town. Is it possible he’d come to see the show being taped live? He’d be shocked to see me standing here on stage.
Until recently she thought she was living their dream, but now seeing him again, in her kitchen, in her house, then here on the street in New York—it was like he’d been the missing piece all along.
The clock that rose above the white board at the front of her kitchen lit up.
08:00:00
And then it began to count down.
She turned to Randy. “I have to win this.”
For all the moments she’d ever missed Andrew. For the money to put aside to help keep Main Street Cafe a part of Bailey’s Fork. She’d buy it and figure out how to make it all work. Her team could keep The Cake Factory going. She could hire a chef to run the cafe if she had to. Or maybe just expand the factory into the old Main Street Cafe space and serve light fare during the lunch hour. But now wasn’t the time to waste brain cells on that.
Kelly turned to Randy. “There are five hundred ideas rolling through my head right now.”
He smiled. “You’ll impress them no matter what you do. I’d suggest you create the cake proposal you’d want. Start with one decorative factor, and let it go from there.”
“A Tiffany blue ring box. It seems like the most romantic thing in the whole world to me. You see that blue box and you know it’s special.”
“Yeah. I’m still saving for one of those. My girl thinks the same thing. Okay. What is your knock-’em-dead cake?”
“Oh gosh, traditional wedding cake is amazing, but if I were making this for me, I’d go with my favorite recipe. One I created myself over weeks and weeks of practice to come up with the right balance of flavors. Triple-Layer Honey Almond Cake with Berries.”
“I think I just drooled.”
“It’s so good, plus it’s a nice upgrade from the traditional almond cake.” He’d unstuck her flow. She started sketching out the design on the parchment. “We alternate a light, fluffy mascarpone crème fraiche with fondant-covered cake layers. So, four layers, and the ring box topper.”
He ran his finger along the sketch. “Fondant at the bottom, then whipped, fondant, whipped, and the ring box?”
“Yes.”
“I like it.”
“We’ll do an edible white chocolate card hanging from the box with Will You Marry Me? in red with interlocking hearts to tie in the Valentine’s Day part of this theme.”
She held the pencil to her lips. “Oh. I know! Then conversation hearts in Tiffany blue, white, pink, and yellow with YES on every one of them, like he’s stacking the deck.”
“Clever. I like it.” He nodded and got right to work. “I’m great with modeling chocolate. Want me to make the box?”
“Yes. Larger than life—let’s make it about six inches. We’ll make the ring too. We can do edible sugar glass for the big diamond. I’ll get the cakes going.”
In a flurry of activity, and a mist of flour, the final round was under way.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Andrew was nearly in analysis paralysis, trying to decide which of the fancy recipes he’d mastered over the years he should bring to the table.
Andrew’s helper, Victoria, stood by as he rattled off different cake ideas. “We could do a pink champagne cake with a raspberry mousse. That would be easy to pull in Valentine’s Day colors.” Then he jotted down three more. “Oh, or a salted caramel toffee crunch cake. We could
