by Alina Jacobs
Since the dumpling was the start of the dish, I first made the dough. Instead of pastry dough, I was going authentic; in Jane Austen's time they’d used suet, which is animal fat and flour. I rolled out the dough as thin as I dared. Then I chopped up apples and put them on the stove to stew with cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and other spices. I also chopped up a pear and added that with a splash of lemon juice. The filling bubbled away. If it was too moist, the dumpling would be mushy, so I needed it to reduce. I added some cognac then stirred some more and lowered the heat.
I needed to start my ice cream. To make it super creamy, I was going to use liquid nitrogen, which was so cold that it didn't give water crystals a chance to form in the ice cream. I chopped up the pistachios and mixed in the local honey I'd bought.
Anastasia was going around to each station, Zane following her with the camera, filming her as she talked to each contestant.
“And what are you making?” Anastasia asked Amber.
My stepsister had been passing me dirty looks all morning. I knew she was going to try to sabotage me again. At least since she was talking to Anastasia, she couldn't do anything right now. She was saying something inane about the Regency period.
I tried to tune her out and concentrate on the ice cream. I needed everything to be perfect before I made it. The liquid nitrogen could freeze skin instantly. I’d used it in the restaurants where I’d worked and had had safety training. I knew Amber was going to try something while I used it. I was not going to have her freeze one of my fingers off.
“I’m using these oranges for the Smoking Bishop cocktail,” Amber was saying. “See the oranges I charred? Oops! Ha ha! Dropped a couple. Good thing I made extra!”
A Smoking Bishop—now there was a Christmas drink. Owen might actually like it, I thought. It was similar to a mulled wine that used roasted oranges with cloves and had a smoky, masculine taste. Maybe for the Christmas party that I'd hinted about throwing? That reminded me, I needed to run through the checklist of the Quantum Cyber winter festival.
As I measured out the heavy cream, I smelled something acrid burning. Amber had sure screwed up those oranges.
“Oh my God!” Anastasia shouted.
Wildly, I looked around then down. “My dress!” I screamed. The hem of the long dress was in flames, a smoking orange scorching the floor next to it. “Help!” I panicked, searching for a fire extinguisher.
Suddenly, Owen was there. He picked up the pot of water and dumped it all over me.
“Are you all right?” he said, holding me, searching my eyes for pain.
“I'm fine,” I said, refusing to act as shaken as I felt. “I'm a baker. I get burned, no big deal. Though I don't usually have people trying to kill me in the kitchen!” I said, raising my voice at Amber.
“No I didn't!” her eyes glittered with crocodile tears. “We're stepsisters! I would never hurt you.”
54
Owen
I felt sick looking down at Holly’s dress. She was acting unconcerned, but I could tell she was freaked out. I was furious. But almost losing her to the bake-off, of all things, did cement that I definitely wasn't going to survive the rest of my life without her.
“That was close,” Anastasia said.
“Thankfully Owen was here to save the day!” Holly hugged me. She was soaking wet and shivering. I wrapped her in my arms.
“Maybe you should just call it quits.”
“The bake-off must go on. But hey, at least the food’s not ruined!” she quipped, wringing out the dress.
I had been planning to go up to my office and work, but after Holly's narrow escape, I stayed in the studio, my eyes on her the entire time.
Morticia brought her a new dress, and Holly finished the rest of her dessert. I was a little concerned that the stress had affected her when I saw her boiling her apple dumplings. But when they had cooled, she dunked them in a tempura batter and deep-fried them.
“I’m interested to see the finished dessert,” Anu said.
“She doesn't seem all that frazzled for almost burning alive,” I remarked, still concerned that I'd almost lost her.
“Please,” Nick snorted. “The amount of time's I've almost set myself and my kitchen on fire? It's insane.”
“It's all part of being a chef,” Anu told me.
Though she hadn't been part of the fire incident, Jamila seemed the most frazzled.
“She's trying to make an ice,” Anu said. “She doesn't have enough time left for that. It's flavored water that you have to churn.”
Her ice still wasn't quite frozen when it was set before us. Poor Jamila was in tears, and Anu sighed as she looked at the dish.
“It's beautiful,” she said, “but you have to be conscious of the clock. Normally you all are given an entire day, but today I understand that it was only a couple of hours.”
“Add a little alcohol to this and call it a cocktail,” Nick said, slurping a spoonful.
“That is the other thing,” Anu told her. “When things go awry, you have to accept it then readjust. Just be honest with yourself when you miscalculate.”
Holly was next.
“This is exquisite,” Anu said, admiring the dessert. The large deep-fried apple dumpling had been split open like a geode. Nestled inside was a greenish ice cream, cubes of gooseberry gelatin, and a little sphere of a milky custard. It was garnished with a drizzle of a tart red sauce.
“This is so refined yet composed, and the flavors are magnificent.” Anu congratulated her.
“This is how you do ice cream,” Nick said.
I took a bite; it was good, not too sweet. “Refined” was a good word for it.
Holly beamed.
“It does sort of feel like reading a Jane Austen novel, if that makes any sense,” Anu added. “It's a dessert you can just enjoy exploring.”
Amber was next. “I have a cocktail for you to enjoy with your fried pudding.”
“This is a very strong cocktail,” Nick said, taking a sip.
“Worth almost burning down the studio for?” I asked.
“I’m not sure about this pudding. It's a little bit dry,” Anu said. “You should have seen what Holly did when she reimagined a boiled apple dumpling. This is just boiled fruit bread that you used to make French toast.”
“It's a little off-putting,” Nick said as I picked at it with my fork. “It's dense and dry and a little too eggy.”
Fiona's dessert was nice. She’d made a sugar basket filled with chocolate truffles, candied fruit, and meringue cookies.
“This is whimsical and beautiful,” Anu told her in admiration.
No surprise, but Holly was the winner; Jamila was sent home. I felt like Amber should have been the one to go, but I knew Dana and Gunnar wanted to keep her for the drama. I hung around and waited for Holly to finish with the post-bake-off interviews.
“You don't have any plans,” I told her when she was done.
“Well, actually, I—”
“It's not a question,” I said, taking her by the hand and leading her upstairs.
55
Holly
Once we were back in Owen's condo, I took a shower. I still smelled like burnt fabric and smoky oranges. Though I wanted to spend a lazy, sexy afternoon with Owen, I really needed to do some planning for the Quantum Cyber winter festival; it was in a few days. I wanted to make sure we had all the finishing touches. Too bad Sloane would be there.
Owen had ordered food and had it waiting for me when I came downstairs.
“Wow! The star treatment! I was going to cook, but okay, I'll take it,” I said as I opened the container of cheesy bacon-and-potato soup. There was also a grilled three-cheese sandwich and a creamy Caesar salad.
“It's like all my favorite food groups,” I said, taking my plate to sit on Owen's couch. He followed me and sat down next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder for a second, and he kissed my hair.
“I do actually need to work on your winter festival,” I said,
turning on my tablet. “Especially since you are technically paying me. I feel like I haven't done anything yet except decorate your office with Christmas cheer.”
“You had the Christmas Bake-Off holiday party.”
“That was more Penny's idea.”
“You decorated,” he insisted. “Everyone liked it. My employees are much friendlier now.”
“Copious amounts of free booze and their CEO not acting like a sociopath will do that!”
I hung out with Owen for the rest of the evening. I made him watch Christmas movies with me while I went through the catering menu and the day's programming. I was planning it like a mini conference, where there would be several sessions going on simultaneously. Owen's employees had been submitting topics for panels about various projects they were working on. We were planning to hold the talks in the company’s lecture hall. We would also have people in the atrium of the Quantum Cyber office along with two sessions in the main lobby of the tower. Demonstrations of the more dangerous technology like the human-sized drones would take place out in the park. That was where I was also planning my extra-special surprise.
I also had a holiday feast planned with turkey, beef Wellington, and other traditional dishes. To celebrate the fact that Quantum Cyber was an inclusive company, we also had foods from other religions like potato latkes, challah, along with foods from around the world that people ate in December, such as vitello tonato, mince pie, and Stollen. There was a large catering kitchen in the tower. Fiona and Morticia were going to help me cook.
I sent out the last email then snuggled next to Owen, turning up the volume on the TV as Holiday in Handcuffs started.
“I love this movie,” I said as he wrapped his arms around me. “I watch it several times a year.”
“You watch Christmas movies all year round?” Owen said in confusion.
“Duh, yeah, of course. What else are you supposed to do in July?”
“I don't know. Go outside?”
“No way! Christmas movies all day every day.”
“I think I might jump off the balcony. I can barely stand them in December, let alone all year round.”
“I seriously doubt there's not one single Christmas movie you like,” I said, shoving him playfully. He hauled me onto his lap, making me squeak. I kissed him and smiled. “We're going to watch one next that you'll love. It's called Bad Santa.”
“If I'd known it was going to take you away from me, I'd have never asked you to help with the TechBiz competition,” Owen said, pinning me to the front door and kissing me.
“I have to make cupcakes,” I said against his mouth, “and a crap ton of food.”
“No you don't. Just have it catered. The grocery store caters, and they have cupcakes.”
“What kind of baker would I be if I bought cupcakes?” I demanded as Owen finally opened the door for me. “If you're good, maybe I'll bring you a cupcake,” I called over my shoulder.
I pulled out my phone in the elevator.
Morticia: These cupcakes are about to be not happening if you don't hurry up.
Holly: Once you land your own dream guy, you'll understand.
Morticia: Never.
My friend was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, when I walked into the penthouse.
“You need to do something with your stepsister. She's in there being weird,” Morticia said.
“Hard pass,” I said. “She's trying to ruin me in the bake-off.”
Unfortunately, I had to go through the living room to go upstairs and change before I could start baking. Amber was sitting in the living room scrapbooking. She was cutting out pictures of Owen very carefully then pasting them onto a page. She already had several pictures of herself cut out and was doing some sort of demented scrapbooking Photoshop to make it look like the two of them were together.
“I'm going to pretend you aren't down there seeing him,” she said, looking up at me. “You've been drugging him with all those sweets you give him.”
“I’m not drugging him!” I shouted. “You're delusional. You were always like this when we were teenagers. You were obsessed with the high school quarterback. He kissed you once behind the bleachers, and you were convinced you two were going to get married. Then there was the foreign exchange student who you were convinced was going to take you back to France with him to his château, even though he lived in a cramped apartment with his mom in one of Paris’s outer-ring suburbs. Now you think Owen is your soul mate. I don't even see how. He has never given you the time of day.”
“He's the one keeping me in the bake-off,” my stepsister said dramatically. “It's because he knows we're supposed to be together. He's looking out for me and making sure that I advance to the next round.”
“Are you seriously feeding her delusions?” Morticia said, stomping into the room. “Spoiler, Amber, you're not making it past the next round.”
“I will,” she insisted. “Owen will protect me.”
“I have to make two thousand cupcakes. I literally do not have time for this.”
My stepsister started crying. “I don't understand why you can't just let me be happy.”
When I came back down from changing, Amber was gone.
“She left,” Morticia said when I asked.
“Did she say where? What if she goes after Owen?” I said with concern.
“Owen is a grown man and a large one at that. I'm sure he can handle himself.”
I smiled a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, he is large.”
“Ugh. I did not need to know that,” Morticia said, adding the flour to the batter.
For the themed cupcakes, we were making chocolate cupcakes decorated like elves, white vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting like snowmen, and red velvet cupcakes decorated like reindeer. I'd even found muffin tins that looked like the bottoms of snowmen and reindeer and elves, so the cupcakes would be extra unique and festive.
“These are going to be super cute!” I gushed as I started spooning the batter into the muffin tins. Morticia dumped a bag of confectioners' sugar into a bowl of softened butter for the frosting.
“You know what,” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe we should make some extra. I never did get to lick frosting off of Owen.”
56
Owen
I took Rudolph out for a walk after Holly left then went up to my office.
Workers were already setting up for the winter festival, as Holly called it, checking the sound systems and putting up lecterns. My employees were chattering about the event as well. Walker kept forwarding me emails of the speculation going around about what sort of crazy activity Holly had planned for me.
Christmas was a week away. I wondered what Holly was doing. I knew I wanted her to stay with me. I wondered if it was too early to propose marriage. I'd known her, what, a few weeks? But I figured she might like a Christmas proposal.
“Did you read through that report yet?” Walker asked.
“Uh—”
My COO peered at my screen before I could close it. “Dude, are you seriously looking up engagement rings? It's not for Sloane, is it?” he asked in horror.
“Of course it's not for Sloane!”
“Holly then?” Walker said, sitting across from me. “Dude, you literally just met her.”
“I'm a hundred percent confident in my decision.”
“Have you even talked to her about it?”
“I will.”
“You can't just have the proposal be the first time you tell her you want to spend the rest of your life with her.”
“I know that. I’m not an idiot.”
“I mean sometimes I wonder.”
I glared at him.
Walker sighed. “Beck wants to talk about the quarterly projections soon, don't forget.”
I had settled into reading through the financial projections for the next quarter, which Beck had sent me, when I looked up to see my youngest brothers plastered against the glass.
I opened the door, and M
att and Oliver tumbled inside. My third-youngest brother, Jonathan, waited outside to finish his phone call.
“Owen!” they exclaimed as I hugged them.
“How was the drive?” I asked.
“Would have been nicer with one of your sports cars,” Matt said.
“Don't touch my cars.”
“Well, can you give me a job?” Matt asked. “I’m going to graduate in the summer. I can totally work for you.”
“Why don't you go work for Jonathan's hedge fund?” I asked him.
“No more room at the inn,” Jonathan said, sauntering in and tucking his phone away. “We came by to see Belle but thought we'd bother you first.”
“I'm sure you could find something for Matt to do,” I said to my brother while he rummaged in my desk. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Where are all the cookies?”
“What cookies?”
“Belle said you were dating one of the Great Christmas Bake-Off bakers, and I want cookies.”
“Is she going to come cook?” Oliver asked as I herded them all out of my office to the elevator. “Jack said Chloe was too busy to party plan. She has that new franchise opening up. Jonathan said you and Holly were going to host.”
“I'm not sure,” I admitted as the elevator took us down to the bake-off studio.
Belle was in the studio, arguing with Gunnar about the editing of the latest episode. My sister had been more of a mother to Matt and Oliver than our own mother had been, and they ran to her when they saw her.
“How's the bake-off?” Matt asked.
“Two more episodes, then that's a wrap,” Belle said, patting his hair.
Jonathan opened his mouth. “Are there—”