“Ansley!” Lena called from the other side.
“Lena,” Dad said, “How about you just take Austin out of here?”
I could hear Lena grunt as she tried to convince Austin that his cinnamon-y treat was finished. “Come on, boy. You ate it all. Now you’re going to have to work it off.”
“Come on, Zette,” Aunt Sam said. “Come on, girl.”
I heard a car pull up on our other side and its doors pop open. “We saw what happened,” Hunni’s voice floated into my left ear. “It was terrible! Poor Ansley!”
“She’s very upset,” I heard Dad say. “She worked so hard on those cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh!” Krista exclaimed. “And those are so good.”
“Yeah,” Kitty agreed sadly from somewhere behind the car. “Too bad the judges won’t ever know just how good.”
They’ll never know, I thought, with a sinking heart. They’ll never kn—I popped my head up. Wait a minute.
I scrambled back out of the car.
“Dad! Dad!” I was so excited that my hands were moving in the air like I was trying to pull the words out of my mouth. “Take me home!”
“I understand, sweetie, but your sisters . . .”
“I can take her back,” Aunt Sam said. “Oh, I wish we had thought to bring both cars!”
“I can do it,” Hunni said. “I can drive you both back, if you want. Then if Ansley wants to return to the fair, you can drive back in your own car,” she told Aunt Sam.
“Oh, I’ll want to come back,” I broke in. “In fact, I’ll need to—with my entry for the second challenge!”
My friends and family stared at me, looking stunned to see the smile on my face instead of tears in my eyes.
“I know just what I’m going to bake too,” I said, rubbing my hands together eagerly. “Blondies . . . with a twist.”
Chapter 18
Okay,” I said as I looked over my ingredients and my large mixing bowl on the kitchen counter. “I know it’s a great idea, but how do I make it? How do I create a combination cinnamon roll-blondie? A ‘cinnamondie!’” I giggled nervously. “Well, let me just start mixing the blondie ingredients.” I looked up at my aunt. “You’re taping this, right?”
She gave me a thumbs-up as she watched me on the screen of her smart phone.
“Good. Okay. I know what I’ll do. Since I can’t roll up blondie dough in a swirl like a cinnamon roll, I can swirl cinnamon filling into the blondie batter! Yes!” I jumped up and down in place. “And then when the blondies are done, I’ll drizzle on the glaze as usual. Oh, this is going to taste awesome.”
“Remember,” my aunt said as she continued to film me, “you can enter up to a dozen blondies in the challenge, but no more.”
“I am making a dozen,” I said.
“Yes, but if you want to taste them, or let your family taste them, maybe you should make more?”
“Good point,” I said, getting a second mixing bowl out of one of the cabinets. “I think I’ll double the recipe. I have the feeling we’re all going to enjoy these. Not to mention, maybe I’ll need a backup batch, just in case something happens to the first one!”
“Now you’re cooking with gas!” Aunt Sam said approvingly.
“Literally!” we said together.
I had a lot of fun racing the clock as I created my cinnamondies. And when both batches were done, Aunt Sam and I tasted a sample from each in case we found one batch better than the other.
My aunt closed her eyes after taking a bite from the first batch. “Mmmm! That’s heaven!”
I took a bite from the second. “So’s this one!”
It wasn’t easy to choose which batch to enter—they were both so good. In the end, we decided it didn’t really matter which. So once we chose one, I sliced it up into bars and packed them up securely—first in wax paper, then in aluminum foil, and finally in a sealed container. I wasn’t going to go through a doggie disaster again!
When Aunt Sam and I returned to the Bake Off area, there was a long line of people waiting to enter their dishes into the second challenge. As we inched our way toward the sign-in tent, I gripped my blondies as if my life depended on them getting to the tent. I kept my eyes closed most of the time and prayed hard. Please God, don’t let anything happen to these blondies. Let me enter them into the contest. Whether I win or lose is not up to me, but I at least want to have a chance! Then, feeling Aunt Sam nudge me, I opened my eyes.
Lynda and Taylor Lang were leaving the tent. Taylor had her head held up high as she carried a silver tray with two ribbons dangling from it. One said “Freshness” and the other said “Texture.”
“She’s got two ribbons,” I said grimly. “That means she’ll be in the cake contest tomorrow.”
“Looks like it,” Aunt Sam said as we watched a man holding a camera with the words Awake with the Lake written on its side and a woman holding a microphone jogging after the Langs. The woman was calling out to them to stop for a moment. “And whether you get in the cake contest or not,” Aunt Sam said, “can you at least say you did your best with these blondies?”
“You mean my cinnamondies?” I nudged her back in a joking way.
“Yes. Did you do your best with them?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Just remembering how good they tasted made me want to go back home and devour the other batch that was still there.
“Then that’s what counts. If there’s a ribbon for effort you should certainly get that.” Aunt Sam gave my shoulders a supportive squeeze.
When we got to the front of the line and I gave my name at the table, the lady taking down my information looked up at me in surprise. “Ansley Daniels? Oh! I’m happy to see you! We heard about your accident this morning from your father. I’m so glad to see you’ve come back to give it another try. Good for you!”
“Thanks,” I said, standing up a little straighter. Hearing her say that was almost like getting a ribbon for not giving up.
Once we took care of all the paperwork, left the blondies (in an attractive arrangement) for judging, and left the tent, I dusted my hands together. “Well, that’s that.”
“If you get a ribbon, we won’t know for a couple of hours, so why not have some fun at the fair?” Aunt Sam said, lifting her cell phone up. “Your dad said that he and your sisters are all at the picnic tables nearest to the track.”
When we found them, they were eating hot dogs and ice cream. My sisters had their faces painted and looked a little tired.
“Looks like you’ve all been having fun without me,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“We went on some rides,” Kitty said.
“And got to ride horses,” Cammie added.
“I helped judge the first karaoke contest of the day,” Lena said.
“And we got to make these neat beaded bracelets,” Cammie said, sticking out her arm to show me the blue beads circling her wrist. “We made one for you too.”
Kitty licked her chocolate ice cream cone and pointed to Lena. “She has it.”
Lena took it out of her pocket and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, rolling the pink and purple bracelet onto my wrist. Part of me really wished I had gotten the chance to make my own bracelet. The other part of me was glad that my sisters hadn’t forgotten about me, at least. “I see you all got your faces painted too.”
“We can show you where the face painter is,” Lena said, looking past Aunt Sam to find the booth.
“Your sisters are kind of tired,” Dad said. “We can come back tonight for some more events. They’re having music, a bonfire, that sort of thing. But I think they need a nap after getting up so early. Do you want to stay for a little while with your Aunt Sam and check out the fair?”
“I guess,” I said, tracing zig-zag lines on the grass with the toe of my sneaker. The fair just wouldn’t be as much fun without my sisters.
Suddenly a voice cried out, “Ansley!” and I saw Guadalupe running toward me.
; “I just got here,” she said a little breathlessly when she reached me. Then she looked at Lena, Cammie, and Kitty. “Oh, but you’ve been here a while, haven’t you?”
“No,” I said. “They have, but I haven’t!”
“Oh, good! Then do you wanna hang out with me? I just passed the face-painting booth over there. Look, you can see Nikki and her sisters going there now.”
“Can I, Dad?” I asked.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Aunt Sam said. “We want to hang around for the judging, anyway.”
So Dad let me stay, and I got to have fun with Guadalupe. We had tiaras painted on our foreheads. We participated in a hula-hooping contest, we tried the Ferris wheel, admired all the beautiful flowers in the flower show, we got to paint rocks with inspirational messages (to take home with us), and we even got to mix up and drink smoothies. Guadalupe was lots of fun to hang around with. She was pretty much game for anything. The only sad part about being with her at a fair was that there was a lot of food she couldn’t eat. So much of the food was covered in flour or dough or came in buns. I had never realized how much wheat was in food until I spent a day with someone who couldn’t eat it without getting sick.
But at least she could have the smoothie. After drinking hers, Guadalupe sat down on the grass and pointed across the field. “Hey, do you want to try joining in one of those relay races?”
I plopped down beside her. “Are you kidding? Aren’t you too full from that smoothie?”
Guadalupe sat back a little and stuck out her tongue. “Actually, yeah.”
“I’m not going to get up from here for at least an hour,” I claimed with a groan.
“Actually, we’re going to have to leave soon,” Aunt Sam said with a little groan herself. She had just settled onto a picnic table bench behind us. “You two have one more rehearsal with the Gracelets for tomorrow’s performance, remember? And we have to pick up that leotard so that you can match the other girls.”
“Oh, right!”
“But first, let’s just relax for a few minutes.” Aunt Sam sighed.
I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of the sun on my face for a moment. Then something made me open my eyes in time to see a girl about my age walking past us. She was holding some kind of sealed food container and exclaiming over the blue ribbon on it that had the word “Presentation” written across it.
“Aunt Sam! Look!” I jumped to my feet. “The judging must be over!”
Aunt Samantha looked at her watch. “Must be.”
“Come on!” I waved for her and Guadalupe to follow me. “Let’s go!”
Even though I ran all the way to the tent, when I got to it, I couldn’t go in without backup. So I waited for Aunt Sam and Guadalupe to catch up with me before going inside. “There it is . . . that’s the place I left my blondies,” I said, covering one side of my face as I inched closer to the table. “I can’t look!”
Guadalupe gasped. “Look! Look, Ansley!”
“Go ahead, honey, it’s all right,” Aunt Sam said, gently prying my hand away from my face.
There on the dish (with only six blondies out of twelve on it) next to a place card with my name on it were two ribbons. One read “Taste” and the other read “Freshness.”
A woman wearing a ribbon on her chest that said “Judge” came toward me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry we ate half of them, but after one bite I couldn’t stop myself from eating a whole blondie. My fellow judges all seemed to have the same problem. They were very good, young lady.”
“Thanks!” I gushed.
“I was wondering,” she asked with her hands behind her back like a small child. “Could I take one or two home with me? I’d love for my husband to try one, and I’d like to save another for tomorrow. I bet it would taste wonderful warmed up a bit and with a cup of coffee.”
“Sure! I mean, please do.” I gestured toward the plate and admitted with a chuckle, “I have more at home, anyway.”
“Oh, thank you!” The judge took a napkin and put one, two, three blondies in it. Then, with a wink at me, she walked away. And it looked to me like she was trying to secretly take a bite out of one before she’d even left the tent.
Aunt Sam took my hands in hers just as the cameraman and interviewer from Awake with the Lake came over to us. “You did it, Ansley! You’ve qualified for the cake contest! Congratulations!”
Guadalupe looked longingly at my prize-winning blondies. “I wish I could try them.”
“Do we have permission to record your daughter?” the interviewer asked, even though it was obvious by the light shining in my face that they were already doing that.
“She’s my beloved niece,” Aunt Sam corrected her, “but yes.”
“You’ve qualified for the third baking challenge in the junior division,” the lady said. “How do you feel about that?”
“Excited, I guess,” I said. Trying not to squint at the brightness of the spotlight, I decided to focus on the lipstick stain on the lady’s teeth.
“To win that challenge, you’ll have to whip up a cake that everybody loves.” She went on, “Something worthy to be called ‘Fair Favorite.’ Do you think you’re up to the challenge?”
I swallowed hard. “I think so . . . I hope so . . . I’m gonna try.”
The television woman was tall, and in her high heels, especially so. She bent down to get the microphone even closer to my face and asked brightly, “Do you have any idea what you’re going to make?”
“I didn’t until just now, actually,” I said, flashing a sidelong glance at Guadalupe. “But yes, I do. And it’s going to be a surprise.”
“Hmm. Sounds special,” the TV lady said. “Can you give us even a tiny hint?”
“Nope! You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” I laughed. “But to make it happen . . .” I looked up at Aunt Sam. “I think we’re going to need to go to the store.”
Chapter 19
When Aunt Sam and I came through the door, we were greeted by cheers, barking dogs, and a sign on the wall that said “Congratulations, Ansley!” with drawings of cupcakes and cookies around the letters.
“What’s all this?” I asked. “The cake challenge isn’t even until tomorrow, and I might not even win that!”
“It’s for your ribbons, of course,” Dad said, giving me a hug.
My sisters all followed me to the kitchen counter and watched me take out my new tube pan, mixing bowl, and utensils.
“You have all these already,” Lena said, turning the mixing bowl over and around. “Why did you get more?”
“Because my recipe calls for . . .” I lifted out a small sack of cornstarch from the shopping bag and laid it on the counter, “gluten-free ingredients. I can’t use the stuff that’s touched wheat.”
“Gluten free?” Cammie made a face. “Will it taste any good?”
“Hopefully like sweet clouds,” I said, taking out two cartons of eggs from the bag. “It’s going to be an angel food cake.”
“Are you sure you want to do angel food? It can be kind of plain,” Aunt Sam warned.
“But with the right amount of butter and vanilla, it can be quite tasty,” Dad pointed out.
“Plus,” I said, taking out a carton of strawberries, “I’m going to top it with these and make whipped cream to serve with it.”
“That should be a crowd-pleaser,” Dad said approvingly.
“And with more of the crowd able to eat it,” Lena said, crossing her arms, “more people will be able to like it. You might have a real chance of winning ‘Favorite of the Fair.’”
“That is the idea,” I said. “But I also wanted to make something Guadalupe could eat and enjoy.”
“Are you going to use any frosting?” Kitty asked.
“I’m not sure. The whipped cream might be enough. Or maybe I’ll whip up a light and fluffy version of buttercream frosting for the top only. I haven’t decided yet. I’ll just bring the ingredients and make my decision when I’m there, I guess.” I sighed. “Y
ou know what I really wish? That I could make a unicorn cake. You should have seen the adorable pandas Taylor made with fondant. I can’t do anything like that.”
“Maybe you can stick an upside-down ice cream cone on top of it,” Cammie suggested. “You know, like a horn.”
“Hey! Yeah!” I liked that idea.
“No, honey,” Dad shook his head. “Ice cream cones are made with wheat flour. They are not gluten-free.”
“Oh.” I slumped in my seat.
Undaunted, Cammie thought of something else. “Maybe you can use a unicorn cookie cutter and cut out a unicorn-shaped piece of cake?”
I liked that idea, too, until I remembered that angel food cakes needed to be made in tube pans, and I wouldn’t have a layer to spare.
“You can use the cookie cutter on fondant, though, couldn’t you?” Lena asked, taking the unicorn-shaped cookie cutter from the drawer.
“That might work!” I said. I tried to imagine where I would put the fondant, though. It seemed kind of heavy for the top of the cake. Maybe I can arrange the shapes around the cake? Like a carousel? “I’ll take this cookie cutter with me,” I decided, and Lena slipped it into a plastic baggie for me. “I’ll also have to take ingredients to make fondant. Thanks, Lena and Cammie.”
“What about,” Kitty said, opening a cabinet and taking a small shaker out of it, “using rainbow sprinkles in the batter? That will make your cake more . . . unicorn-ish.” She handed me the small bottle of sprinkles.
“I think you’re right,” I said, shaking up the sprinkles inside the bottle a little. “I’ll bring these too. Thanks!”
“Uh-oh!” Lena looked at the clock on the microwave. “Gotta run! Mallory’s going to video chat with me in Dad’s office, so we can rehearse. She’s even going to let me play the guitar along with her! Talk to you later!” Lena hurried off.
“Maybe we can film her rehearsal!” Cammie said to Kitty, and the two of them followed behind her.
Dad started heating up some pasta for me. “You’ve had a long day,” he said as I climbed onto one of the saddle stools at our kitchen counter. “And you’re going to have another long one tomorrow. You best get to bed early tonight.”
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