Ansley's Big Bake Off

by Kaitlyn Pitts

  “I know,” I said. “I will.”

  As Aunt Sam began putting away the groceries, I pulled the small sack of gluten-free all-purpose flour across the counter and took it in both my hands. A gluten-free cake had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. I hoped it would be the right one.

  I’m sure Taylor won’t be making one, anyway, I thought to myself, but I wonder what she will make!

  The next morning, my whole family was up early again. Before we all left for the fair, Dad had us form a circle and hold hands with one another as he prayed, “Father, my family comes before you united in love for one another as you call us to be. We thank you for the abundance of blessings you have poured out upon us as a family and we praise you for your goodness. Today as we accompany Ansley and Lena to the fair, we ask you to help them use their gifts to the best of their abilities and that you accept them as offerings of thanksgiving from them. And let them—and all my girls—have lots of fun today!”

  And the Daniels sisters all said loudly, “Amen!”

  “And please bless Dad,” I added quickly. “He works so hard and has been so good to us. Please continue to give him strength and guidance and love, in Jesus’ name. Amen!”

  And my sisters said even more loudly this time, “Amen!”

  When we got to the tents set up for the cake challenge, we found that there were cameras and lights set up all around the area. There were also long tables for all the competitors to work at and brand-new ovens supplied by a sponsor of Awake with the Lake.

  The cameraman and interviewer from yesterday were also there. The woman was wearing a bright green jacket and skirt that made her really stand out, so she was easy to spot walking around.

  Parents and family were allowed to sit on bleachers off to the side and watch. All the participants in the contest had to submit their recipes and get approval before we were given aprons and chef hats just like at Lynda’s Lovin’ Oven, except this time they were orange, and all said “Awake with the Lake” on them. Then we were led to our stations, where I found myself in the same row as Taylor, who had been assigned to the place on my right. I immediately said “Hi” to her. She jumped and nodded her “hello” back, but didn’t say a word.

  I bet she’s surprised to see me here, I thought. She probably thought when my cinnamon rolls were ruined that I was out of the running.

  The judges came out and introduced themselves. There were a total of five. Each was responsible for a different blue ribbon: Taste, Texture, Originality, Presentation, and Freshness. Our cakes, they told us, would be judged as before, except the Favorite of the Fair would be judged by ordinary fairgoers who, for a window of time, would get to visit the tent and sample tiny bites of our cakes. No one from the bleachers would be allowed to vote!

  Cammie and Kitty looked disgruntled to hear that. I think they at least wanted to taste the cake I made when it was done.

  After the rules were explained, the lady judge who had walked away with three of my blondies started the challenge by shouting, “On your mark, get set . . . Bake Off!”

  All the kids surrounding me pounced on their ingredients and hurriedly got to work. But I knew I had plenty of time to get things done, and I didn’t want to rush myself and make a mistake. So I tried to be as careful and steady as I could. Separating fourteen yolks from egg whites takes some concentration, after all.

  As we worked, the interviewer from the TV station started talking to people in the bleachers. Then, after some time had passed, she began going around to each competitor and asking them questions. I found this a little annoying, since I thought we all needed to focus on our work and felt like she was being kind of distracting. She asked the bakers things like what they were working on and what their hopes and dreams were—and I couldn’t help overhearing some of them.

  In one conversation, I found out that the girl I had seen yesterday walking away with a ribbon that said “Presentation” on it, was named June. And when she described the chocolate-ginger sponge cake she was making, it sounded so delicious that I was sure she would win. Then the interviewer (whose name was Sierra Li) spoke to a boy named Caden who was making a chocolate cake with coffee-flavored frosting and bacon bits sprinkled on it. When Sierra heard about that, she said she definitely wanted to try it when it was done. A pair of sisters (I didn’t know that competitors could be a team) were making a hummingbird cake with bananas, pineapple, and pecans. Sierra practically drooled over each ingredient in that one. After a while, it sounded to me like each cake was as at least as good or better than the last one. Sierra hadn’t even interviewed half of the other contestants before I was sure I wasn’t going to win the competition.

  But what I can do, I told myself, is my best—and . . . have fun, of course! And it was fun mixing the batter and watching it get beautifully light and fluffy. Sweet clouds, I thought with a smile. My cake was in the oven and I was about to make fondant by the time Sierra came to my row. I almost jumped when I heard her voice to my right ask, “Is that fondant you’re using?”

  I turned to tell her that I hadn’t even started making it yet when I saw that she was actually speaking to Taylor, who was bent over little sculptures she was working on.

  Taylor lifted her head. “Yes, it’s fondant.” She lifted the figure she had just completed and held it up to the camera. “They’re unicorns!”

  Chapter 20

  I felt my stomach drop.

  “They’re absolutely adorable!” Sierra cooed.

  “Thank you!” Taylor giggled and went back to concentrating on what she was doing. I could see that she had finished two unicorns and was working on a third. They were as adorable as Sierra said, with wavy manes in rainbow colors and golden swirly horns.

  “So what kind of cake will these little cuties be decorating?”

  Please don’t say an angel food cake! I prayed in my mind. Pleeeeease don’t say an angel food cake!

  “Lemon poppy seed,” Taylor said, “with cream cheese frosting. It’s my mom’s—was my mom’s—favorite.”

  “Oh . . . yes,” Sierra’s big smile fell away as she pressed her lips together to show sympathy. “I was sorry to hear that you lost your mother this summer. How are you doing?”

  I frowned. Sierra is obviously confusing Taylor with me.

  But Taylor shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Do you find that baking helps when you feel sad?”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling down at the unicorn that seemed to magically appear between her fluttering hands. “And art too.”

  After Sierra observed Taylor at work for a few minutes, she said, “You’re really good at that, Taylor. Perhaps you should go into the cake decorating business professionally when you grow up.”

  Taylor pointed to her grandmother in the stands. “Well, my grandmother does have a bakery. She says she’ll give it to me once I graduate. She was going to leave it to my mom, but . . . you know.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Taylor had lost her mom like I had. And very recently too.

  Sierra caught me watching them. “And you’re Ansley, right?”

  The camera and spotlight turned toward me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And are you going to make something with fondant too?”

  I shook my head and slid the bag of marshmallows I was going to use to make the fondant away from view. Not anymore, I’m not.

  I saw Taylor hunch her shoulders as she stole a glance at me and began making another unicorn.

  “And what kind of cake are you making?” Sierra asked me.

  “Angel food,” I said. “Gluten-free, actually, so my friend Guadalupe can have some—and maybe other people at this fair who can’t eat the other cakes.”

  “How thoughtful of you. And smart. It’s an option that the others haven’t thought of. More people will be able to sample your cake that way.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “Of course, people will have to find out that the cake is even here before they can try it!”

&nb
sp; Sierra chuckled. “That’s true. Still, I think it’s good of you to think of others and their special needs when you’re in the middle of trying to win a contest. Especially when you don’t have those same needs. You don’t have a gluten allergy, do you?”

  I inhaled deeply, taking in the smells of all the baking cakes around me—and the faint smell of burnt crust. “No, I don’t,” I admitted.

  “Your dad is impressed too. I spoke with him earlier—as well as all your sisters. They are all proud of you for both making it into this competition and for thinking of your friend. You have a very supportive family.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “It’s good that you all have each other to lean on since you’re all going through something so very much like what Taylor’s going through.”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Taylor freeze in place.

  “Was angel food your mother’s favorite cake?” Sierra went on.

  “No,” I said, noticing the burnt smell getting a little stronger. “But she was the one who taught me how to bake.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’d be as proud of you as the rest of your family is to see how far your baking talents have taken—” Suddenly Sierra sniffed the air. “Something’s burning.”

  “Oh, no!” Taylor cried out. She ran to her oven, threw open the door, and reached in for her cake pan without wearing an oven mitt. Burning herself slightly, she hissed in pain from the sting, ran back to the table to retrieve her mitt, and then went back to the stove. She reminded me of a tennis ball, first flying in one direction and then in the opposite direction and back again. When she finally got her cake out of the oven, it was too late. The top and edges were brown and crispy. She burst into tears.

  The cameraman, who had been recording the whole drama, moved in closer.

  “Taylor!” I ran over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Please, get that thing away from her,” I told the cameraman. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”

  Sierra waved at the cameraman to back up a bit, and they gave Taylor some space as she sank into a nearby chair. “I can’t believe I let that happen! It’s completely ruined!”

  I squatted down so that I could look up into her crumpled face. “I’m sorry that happened, Taylor. I’m really sorry.” I felt so bad for her. I wished I could make it better.

  “You’re sorry?” Taylor blinked down at me. “I’m the one who’s sorry! I’m the one who—who—” And suddenly I knew we weren’t talking about cakes anymore. “Is it true?” she asked with a sniff. “Did you really lose your mom too?”

  I felt my eyes grow wet. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know,” Taylor said.

  “I didn’t know about your mom, either.”

  “Don’t you miss her?” Taylor’s voice broke a little.

  “All the time. Every minute,” I admitted.

  “Then . . . how can you smile all the time?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe because I have the gift of joy.”

  Taylor looked confused.

  “Dad says it’s from the Holy Spirit,” I explained. “But I also smile because my family and I talk about her a lot and remember the good times we had with her. There are a lot of good times to remember. Can you do that with memories of your mom?”

  Taylor sniffed again, but the tiniest of smiles twitched at the ends of her mouth. “Yes. But you’re so lucky. You have a lot of people you can talk to and who understand. I only have Grandma.”

  “You also have Krista,” I reminded her. “She’s your best friend. I’m sure she listens to you.”

  “She does, but she doesn’t always understand. I don’t think she likes it when I’m sad.”

  “Well . . . now you have me too. You can always talk to me. You know I’ll understand. And it’s okay to be sad, you know. It’s okay to cry.”

  Taylor nodded. “That’s what my counselor always says.”

  “And, of course, I know I’ll see my mom again someday. And you’ll see yours. That’s the best part!”

  “Do you really believe that?” Taylor’s voice grew high and hopeful.

  “Oh, yes. I do. I really do.” The timer on my oven went off. “Oh!” I jumped up.

  “You’d better get that before your cake is ruined too,” Taylor said, sounding sad again. She got up out of her chair and began to undo her apron.

  “Taylor,” I said, as I headed over to my oven. “Do you . . . do you want to help me finish this cake? Maybe we can enter it together as a team. You can make the frosting, and even spread it on the cake, if you want. And decorate it with your unicorns! Do you want to?”

  Taylor’s mouth formed an “o” at the thought. “Can we even do that? I mean, won’t we be disqualified or something?”

  “Well, those two sisters over there are working together,” I said as I carefully placed my cake upside down on its cooling rack.

  Taylor looked tempted for a moment, then she shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble or kicked out of the contest or anything.”

  I waved my hand. “I don’t care about that,” I said, and I meant it. Suddenly, being kind to Taylor when she most needed it seemed way more important than winning a ribbon or a trophy. And making a cake with her (and her fondant unicorns!) seemed a lot more fun than getting on a TV show too. “Come on! I bet you can make a really fluffy icing. It would make the perfect clouds for your unicorns to prance around. And it would still be gluten-free . . .”

  Taylor’s eyes danced as she tied her apron more firmly around her waist. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

  The judges allowed us to become a team, but warned us we might run into a problem if we won. “Who would keep the trophy?” they asked.

  Taylor and I didn’t have the answer to that. But the question made me kind of hope we didn’t win after all.

  When Taylor finished decorating the cake, it looked super cute. She made five unicorns altogether, but instead of putting them on top of the cake and weighing down the fluff, she put them around the cake, sort of like the carousel idea I had the night before. “This unicorn is me,” she said, “this one is you. This one is Guadalupe, this one is Krista, and this last one is Nikki.”

  “Nikki!” I said. I began to untie my apron with shaking hands. “I’ve got to perform with her and Guadalupe with the Gracelets soon! Let’s hand this cake in because I’ve got to run. And I know you don’t like gymnastics much, but I think you should come and watch because of what will happen afterwards. There’s going to be a cool, secret surprise!”

  “Actually, I think gymnastics is okay.” Taylor looked a little embarrassed.

  I smiled. “Go get Krista, and head over to the bandstand. She’ll like the surprise too.”

  “Okay!”

  The Gracelets performance was just part of a longer performance piece where different groups of gymnasts from Grace-n-Power each had time to show off their skills and publicize the work of the gym. Nikki, Guadalupe, and the other Gracelets did an awesome job with their ribbon routine, and each time I made a tumbling pass I could hear the unmistakable hoots and whistles from my personal cheering section of family and friends.

  Nikki, Guadalupe, and I found Taylor and Krista in the audience afterwards. “Wait until you see this!” I told them as Lena’s choir assembled on the stage. They performed a beautiful arrangement of Mallory Winston’s song, “Forever Grateful,” and once they got to the last stanza, Mallory herself came out onstage and joined in! The crowd roared their welcome. The choir looked shocked, but they managed to continue without missing a beat, and by the end, Mallory, the choir, and the audience were all singing together.

  Then, before Mallory and Lena sang their duet, Mallory introduced the song saying, “This next song is my newest single, and it’s dedicated to the memory of a very special lady, Mrs. Eva Daniels. She was the mother of Lena, who is my singing partner tonight, and who starred with me in Above the Waters a few years back. Mrs. Daniels was a great woman of faith whose love for her family and
example to her daughters impressed me very much when I met her. She is with the Lord now, but we all look forward to the day when we can meet her again in the ‘Happy Reunion . . .’”

  They sang it twice, so that by the second time the audience could sing along to some of the chorus. I could see that a lot of people were touched by the lyrics. Taylor and I weren’t the only ones who had lost people we loved, and the song comforted them and gave them hope. I particularly liked a part that went:

  We’ll sit together at the table

  Down from the first up to the least

  And all partake together

  Of the Bridegroom’s happy feast.

  It made me picture heaven as one big party, and I imagined my mom and Taylor’s mom as two friends, sitting side by side, clinking their drinking glasses together as part of the celebration.

  When the performance was over, Dad ushered us away from the bandstand and toward the Bake Off tents. “Okay, girls,” he said. “I think it’s time for the judging.”

  When we got back, I was almost too nervous to look again, but Taylor grabbed my arm and brought me over to our presentation station. There, next to what was left of the cake, we found three blue ribbons! One for “Taste,” one for “Presentation,” and one for “Originality.”

  “Look at all the ribbons you got!” said Taylor, who was still holding on to my arm and jumping up and down.

  “You mean we got,” I corrected her.

  Then it was finally time for the “Favorite of the Fair” announcement. Taylor squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers. I closed my eyes too, but when I did, I realized I didn’t really want to win anymore. I found instead that becoming friends with Taylor, performing with Grace-n-Power, and enjoying Mallory’s surprise duet with Lena had all contributed to putting a joy in my heart that was even bigger than the trophy that would go to the winner.

  “And the trophy goes to . . .” the announcer paused. Then, “Dagny Roberts and her triple layer red velvet cake!”

  As Dagny’s family and friends cheered, Taylor and I looked at one another.