Baking for Keeps

by Jessica Gilmore

  Maybe it was time to think about her future instead of assuming everything would just fall into place. Did she want to work at Radio KMCM forever or did she have dreams of something bigger, of expanding her horizons?

  Or did she just want Zac’s approval? She couldn’t close her eyes without seeing him. Without seeing the crack in those granite cheekbones when he allowed himself to smile, without seeing the warmth and approval in his dark eyes she had begun to crave. Twice he had come to her, reached out. She knew he kept to himself, that his friendship was a rare gift. Was she greedy for craving more?

  And what if he wanted the same things she did? What if he liked her beyond friendship and attraction? He hated small towns, she knew that. Disliked the attention and gossip and lack of privacy living in a small town entailed. All the things she loved about Marietta repulsed him. He wanted cities, constant summer, a job that took him from place to place, no real roots, no community. Lacey had lived that way for sixteen years. She never wanted to go back to that again.

  If there was a middle ground she couldn’t see it.

  She looked up as the door opened, her heart speeding up painfully, thumping so loudly it competed with the grandfather clock in the hallway—only for disappointment to lurch its sickening way through her when, instead of Zac’s lean figure, her aunt bustled in. I have to stop behaving like a love-sick teenager, Lacey told herself firmly.

  “Morning, Aunt P.”

  “Morning, Lacey, all ready?” Aunt Priscilla opened up one of the big fridges and poked her head in, humming as she did so. “You and Zac won’t mind if I’m in here while you do your mini bake-off do you? I’ve got the Carter christening cake to do and for insurance reasons I don’t like to do commercial cooking in the house kitchen.”

  “Not at all—we could move if that helps?” Lacey offered but her aunt shook her head.

  “Don’t worry, dear, there’s plenty of space for us all. You know, I have high hopes of Zac this afternoon. The pie works really well and he’s got it down pat. It looks attractive too, which is so important. But then his cookies were much better in practice than he managed in competition. Do you think he suffers from nerves? That could make his hands warm and there is nothing more fatal for pastry.”

  “I don’t think he’s nervous. More of a perfectionist than anything. He’s drawn up spreadsheets again you know. Every moment timed exactly. Cooking by numbers.”

  “Dear Zac,” her aunt said unexpectedly. “What a wonderful addition to the family he is. He fixed the squeaking floorboard in my bathroom you know, and tightened the balustrade. I do like a man who’s handy if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” Lacey cautiously agreed pretending not to see the unsubtle wink. “But he’s not one of the family you know, Aunt P. He’s leaving soon and I don’t think he has any reason to come back to Marietta.”

  “No reason at all?”

  Lacey shook her head, hating the telltale heat stealing across her cheeks. “We’re just friends if that’s what you mean.”

  “You seem to be very good friends. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Lacey—and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s not friendship; at least we didn’t call it that in my day.”

  “Aunt P, he doesn’t want to live in one place, you know that. And I can’t live on the move. What future would we have?”

  “Do you have to decide that now?”

  Lacey stared at her aunt in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re young, Lacey. You don’t need to fall in love with a mortgage and a savings account and a weekly chore list just yet. Why not have some fun before you worry about all that? Zac’s a different man to the one who came here a few weeks ago. I don’t think he finds Marietta so very dreadful now, do you?”

  “Maybe not.”

  “He might not want to settle down here now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never set foot here again. And it would do you good to spread your wings a bit. The station won’t collapse if you take a vacation every now and then, go out of State at the weekend. It wouldn’t be easy to date someone who doesn’t live near you, admittedly, but it’s not impossible. You youngsters with your smartphones and your FaceTime and video calling. Your Aunt Patty was prepared to spend a four-year courtship writing letters on paper no thicker than this.” She brandished a tube of baking parchment at Lacey. “You could see Zac’s face every day thanks to the internet. And other bits too, according to the news.”

  “Aunt Priscilla!” Lacey couldn’t help laughing. “You are terrible. But I don’t know if that’s what Zac wants. We haven’t even kissed. Twice I thought we might but once I put a stop to it and the second time he walked away as if nothing had happened. And he wants to fix me up with one of the other bachelors. If he wins today then he has two out of the three wins and that’s my forfeit. Does that sound like a man thinking about a relationship to you?”

  “It sounds like a man trying very hard not to think about a relationship. Lacey, honey, don’t you think you should be having this conversation with Zac? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “He could laugh.”

  “He won’t laugh.”

  “He could say no,” Lacey whispered, hating to admit her cowardice.

  “At least you’ll have an answer either way. I think you need some courage, Lacey.”

  “Or to win today so he can’t set me up on a date.”

  “In that case,” her aunt amended, “you need courage and a great deal of luck.”

  *

  Luck was not on Lacey’s side. Despite blind-baking her pastry base it was undercooked and soggy, and the crumble she had so painstakingly rubbed together had clumped into unappetizing rock-like lumps. She grimaced at her webcam, hoping the viewing figures and subsequent donations would be worth this public humiliation. “I wish we kept pigs; at least this wouldn’t be wasted. No human is going to eat this, that’s for sure.”

  She swiveled the webcam to focus over on Zac. He looked completely unruffled, not a hair out of place, cool and crisp in a smart, short-sleeved, red shirt and his usual beautifully cut jeans. His workstation was neat and tidy in direct contrast to Lacey’s, which looked as if she had let an entire day care center’s worth of toddlers loose with a bag of flour. His pie sat smugly in the middle of the counter, the crust a honey gold and the crumble temptingly crisp and even.

  “Just remember,” Lacey reminded any web viewers. “Looks aren’t everything. He could have used salt instead of sugar or over gingered the blackberries. I can still pull this off. Either way there’s fifty dollars going straight to the appeal from whoever loses today—and I hope you’ll all match it. Let’s make my probable humiliation worth it.”

  Lacey didn’t mind another fifty-dollar forfeit, especially as she knew it would prompt her online viewers to donate as well. It was the other forfeit she was less keen on. The one she wasn’t going to share with the public.

  Her date.

  She’d met most of the bachelors now, interviewed five out of the eight for her show, and had chatted to all of them the week before. They all seemed like very nice, worthy men, but there hadn’t been a single spark. Her pulse had remained even, her stomach calm, her heart untouched. But as soon as Zac came near everything changed. Her pulse speeded up to terrifying levels, her stomach swooped as if she were facing a black slope on inadequate skis, and her heart physically ached at the sound of his voice. She could keep her end of the bargain and go out on a date with the bachelor of his choice but she knew it would be no good.

  The only date she wanted to go on was with Zac Malone.

  “Are you ready for us to judge?” Her aunts had been working steadily over at the other end of the kitchen, weaving their usual alchemy and transforming their humble ingredients into a cake worthy of a christening. It was Valentine’s themed and Aunt Patty had been shaping tiny rosebuds and hearts with her clever, deft fingers, to decorate the entire three-tier cake.

  “Um…” Lacey looked down at her pie and wince
d. “I guess. I’m sure it tastes better than it looks.” She’d added lots of sugar after all, and lots of maple syrup. Her blackberries had been sour at the weekend and never say she didn’t learn from her mistakes. She’d upped the ginger as well, to try and stop her pastry being quite so bland. It might be soggy but at least it would have some zing to it. She hoped.

  “Absolutely,” Zac said with enthusiasm, returning Lacey’s glare with a smile as he placed his annoyingly perfect pie next to hers. Her stomach rumbled. His did look and smell fantastic. She should try some, for fairness’ sake.

  The aunts stepped over, forks in hands, and surveyed the pies. Their smiles were proud as they looked at Zac’s, muttering to each other about bake consistency and even spread. They were less proud and a lot more amused when it came to Lacey’s. “It’s supposed to be a crumble topping,” Aunt Patty muttered. “Not a rock-filled landscape.”

  Lacey hadn’t really held out any hope of winning but she conceded the second the pies were sliced. The slicer slid through Zac’s with a satisfying crunch and the piece was extracted cleanly. The pastry was cooked through to the bottom, the berries firm, and the aunts both closed their eyes with a sigh of approval as they sampled it. Lacey’s pie, on the other hand, made more of a squelching sound than a crunch and the piece disintegrated on extraction, a soggy mess oozing runny berries onto the plate. She held the plate up to the webcam. “There you have it. My best effort. That’s got to be worth a donation or two? Aunt Patty, Aunt Patricia, would you like to announce the winner?”

  “We do appreciate the effort you put in, Lacey,” Aunt Priscilla said.

  “Yes, yes. But?”

  “But there are a few problems with your pie,” Aunt Patty said diplomatically.

  “What? Apart from the taste, the look, the consistency, and the fact that it’s not baked?”

  “It’s also over sugared and over gingered and the pastry is both crumbly and undercooked.”

  “And your pie does have a soggy bottom,” Aunt Priscilla chimed in. “Now Zac’s pie is, I have to say, a delight. Crisp, the berries are the right side of tart, the ginger gives it a real zing and the syrup adds a darkly sweet tone. Really very well done, Zac.”

  Lacey fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her wallet, extracting a crisp fifty and holding it up to the camera. “Strike two for me. If you can help out by matching my donation then please, every dollar counts. Tomorrow I’ll be posting all the highlights from today’s Bachelor Bake-Off including the judging, so please make sure you tune in and if you can get to Marietta for four p.m. then you can experience all the excitement for yourself. Through this week I’ll be interviewing the last three bachelors and the Monroe family will be telling me what this fundraising means to them. I’ll also be chatting to Chief Hale about the First Responders’ plans when the house opens so if hunky silver fox fire chiefs are your thing, then Thursday is going to be your day. Thanks for watching.”

  She switched off the camera and turned, freezing when she realized Zac was right behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her face. “How do you do that?”

  “How do I do what?”

  He gestured at the camera. “Be so natural, so chatty.”

  “I don’t know. I just say the first thing I think of.”

  “Isn’t it intimidating, knowing all those people will be watching?”

  “It’s more intimidating to think they won’t be watching and I’m broadcasting to fresh air. Besides, I don’t post any personal stuff; it’s all work. It all makes a difference and that’s exciting.” Lacey looked up at Zac. His eyes had softened, his smile heartbreakingly sweet. She searched his face for mockery or sarcasm but couldn’t see any. Warmth flooded through her. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I won the challenge.”

  “I know.” She waved the fifty-dollar note at him, trying to pretend she was cool and collected and that her pulse wasn’t trying to outdo a runaway train. “Look, penalty right here.”

  “That’s two out of three and that, Lacey Hathaway, makes me the overall winner.”

  How did the usually large kitchen feel so closed in and hot. Lacey glanced over at her aunts but, back at their own station and absorbed in their work, they seemed hazy, like they were in a different universe. All she could see or hear with any clarity was Zac.

  “Double or nothing?” she offered, her voice croaky with nerves.

  “Not this time. I’d hate to watch you crash and burn again.”

  “Okay. Your loss. Marietta really has a lot to offer the discerning traveler.”

  Zac wasn’t to be dissuaded. “You owe me a date. With the bachelor of my choice.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I do.”

  “Tonight.”

  “Tonight?” she almost squeaked. “But how do you know your chosen bachelor will be free? Or that he even wants to have a date with me? Will I be expected to take him out or are we going Dutch?” Had he been talking to the other bachelors about her behind her back? Did they all know about this bet and her sad loveless state? Lacey’s stomach twisted.

  “He is free, he very much wants to have a date with you, and no, you will not be going Dutch. Tonight is his treat. My treat.”

  “You are paying for me to go out with some random man?”

  “Not a random man. With me. I’m the bachelor, Lacey. I chose me. What do you say?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You won!” Lacey twirled round in celebration. “You actually won. With a perfect score. Ryan Henderson said he would be proud to have made that pie. Proud! And Rachel shook your hand. I can’t believe it. And did you see how much you made at auction? I swear, that pie took more than any real live bachelor ever could. Even George Clooney. Not that he’s a bachelor anymore but when he was.”

  “You’re saying my pie is better than George Clooney?” That was a compliment, right?

  “You made the pie equivalent of George Clooney,” Lacey confirmed. “The judges were practically swooning. You know what this means? Your cake is going to have to be off the charts incredible.”

  Zac shook his head. “Can we not talk about the cake now? Once this auction is over I am not going to as much as look at flour or butter for a year.”

  “No, that can’t be. You have a talent, my friend, and such a talent can’t be squandered. There’s an ancient saying around here. A man who can make a perfect pie and fix a squeaky floorboard is worth his weight in gold.”

  “That’s a strangely specific saying.”

  “Strange coincidence, huh?”

  Zac grinned over at Lacey. She was particularly adorable dressed up for the cold wintry night, with her bobble hat and knitted gloves and thick jacket, her face glowing with the cold. “Very strange. Almost as if you made it up.”

  “Almost. Seriously, Zac, you were cool as a cucumber in there. Not a nerve to be seen. Very impressive.”

  “I was calm. I had already won you see.”

  “You had?” She wrinkled her nose. “You bribed the judges?”

  “No. This morning. I won a date. This afternoon was just gravy.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks were even pinker as she took in his words. “Okay. Although to be honest, beating me was probably never in doubt.”

  “Not really,” he admitted and laughed as Lacey swatted him indignantly.

  “So, what are we doing on this date? Do I need to go home and change?”

  “No, I don’t think so. You’re going to give me that tour of Marietta you’ve been promising me. Show me your town, Lacey, show me why it’s so special. Whatever you want. I’ll pay but you choose.”

  “Ice-skating and sleigh rides and hot chocolate in the snow?”

  “If that’s what you want, I’m in your hands.”

  She looked at him speculatively. “You may regret those words. Come on then, we have a town to explore.”

  It was no surprise that Lacey led him straight to the sleigh hire stop on Main Street. Zac usually rolled his eyes when
he passed it, the sweetness of a sleigh stop jarring him every time. But tonight with the snow and the stars and an excited Lacey the idea didn’t seem so overly quaint after all. It felt right.

  Two brown horses were stamping and pawing at the snow and Zac eyed them uneasily. “They’re docile as anything,” the driver said cheerfully. Zac admittedly knew very little about horses but the last word he would have used to describe either animal was docile. Lacey had no such qualms, heading straight to their heads to blow warm air onto their noses, feed them mints, and whisper love words into their ears.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “Just to Miracle Lake. Will that be okay?”

  “Sure. Business is brisk tonight, it being the weekend before Valentine’s Day.” He winked knowingly at Zac. “I’m expecting several proposals in the back of that sleigh this weekend.”

  “How lovely.” Lacey climbed into the old-fashioned carriage, the padded bench seat comfortably accommodating two. “Does it ever get old, listening to proposals? Or is each one perfect?”

  “There’s nothing nicer than sharing that moment,” the driver confirmed, shaking out the folded blankets and handing them to Zac. Zac climbed in beside Lacey and adjusted the blankets over them. It was curiously intimate being together under the same throws, for all they were in the open air and in public.

  “Do any stay with you?” Lacey asked, pulling the faux fur rug a little tighter.

  “The best are the impromptu ones. I’ve heard poems and carefully prepared speeches and seen men put on special music, and present their girlfriend with flowers and chocolates. This summer there were at least two flash mobs, which I really prefer not to have to deal with because they spook the horses. But the ones that seem the most romantic to me are the ones where he simply says he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life without her. They usually bring a tear to my eye.” He swung himself into his seat and clicked to his horses who tossed back their heads, the sleigh bells ringing as they did so.