by Mary Morgan
“Hey, are you listening to me?”
Eve blinked, focusing on her friend. “Sorry, deep in thoughts.”
“These pecans taste like they’ve been soaking in rum.”
“Maple rum,” corrected Eve.
“Mmm…delish!” Tina licked her fingers. “You do realize you’ll have to be in here early tomorrow morning.”
“Yes,” she grumbled. “Looks like a three a.m. wake-up call for me. At least it will be quiet.”
Tina put an arm around her shoulder. “I wish I could help you.”
“Rules are rules.” Eve patted her friend’s hand. “I still don’t know why you didn’t enter the contest.”
Tina arched a brow. “Because I bake and cook for fun. And if anyone had done to me what those two women did to you, they would have to remove all sharp objects from the kitchen.” She pulled another piece of bread from the loaf and popped it into her mouth.
Laughing, Eve started to clean up her area of the kitchen. “Thank goodness Helen shut-down the place for a few days. Can you imagine us all working and trying to cater to the customers?”
“Here, let me help,” said Tina between bites of bread. “Hand me the bowls.”
“You’re a sweetheart,” remarked Eve as she wiped down the counters.
“It’s payback for everything you’ve done for me. Let me remind you once again, if you had not persuaded Helen with a taste of my peach and brandy tarts, I don’t believe I could have gotten this job.” She held out her arms. “One look at my tats and Helen would have closed the door in my face.”
Eve giggled. “But they’re all food related.” She lightly touched the tattoo of a rolling pin along the inside of Tina’s forearm. “I’ll never forget when she did agree to hire you—sight unseen, and then you appeared the next day.”
“Her eyes bugged out.”
“Her mouth opened in shock, too,” added Eve.
Both women burst out laughing.
“A great photo moment lost,” snickered Tina.
“But a promise was a promise, and we needed someone like you.” Eve picked up a towel and started drying dishes. “Helen was desperate. It was only me and Misty. We couldn’t count on her to do anything except take customers to their tables. Even that was beneath her.”
Tina let out a groan. “Yikes. Please do not mention Misty’s name in my presence. The woman had a crush on me. She followed me everywhere.”
“She had a love affair for your baking—your talent, that’s all.” Eve swatted her friend with the towel. “You could have been kinder.”
“I’m not a good teacher. Don’t have the patience.”
Eve smirked. “You don’t with anyone. But one day, my friend, you will have to learn. You have a lot to offer.”
Her friend sighed. “So you keep saying.”
Scanning the kitchen one last time, Eve folded the towel and removed her apron. “I’m going to have to pay attention tomorrow. I don’t want anything or anyone ruining my chances of winning this contest.”
“I’ll keep an eye on the pit bulls, Sally and Linda, for you.”
Eve embraced her friend. “You’re the best. Though, leave your mace in the car.”
****
When the sun glinted through the windows of the Blushing Rose Bakery, Eve felt a tremor of unease slither down her back. Telling herself it was simply nerves, she tried to focus on what Helen was saying in her usual shrill voice to the crowd gathered around them. The four judges stood off to the side, each clutching a glass of champagne. There were also six contestants all listening with rapt attention, including her. Although Eve’s stomach was already in knots, she wanted to get the introductions over with—so the baking could commence.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the wall for support. She’d hardly had any sleep after she returned home last night. Still seething over the debacle caused by Sally and Linda, she’d wound up with a headache the moment her head hit the pillow.
“This is all so exciting,” whispered Melinda, one of the contestants. She nudged Eve. “Isn’t that Chef Austen from the show, Bake for all Seasons?”
Eve nodded. “I love the show. My favorite was the one she did live in Scotland.”
Melinda leaned to the side. “Didn’t they film it at a real castle?”
“Yes. It was spectacular,” Eve uttered softly. “I have it on tape.”
“Gosh, I wish I could remember the name.”
“Castle Creag.”
Melinda tapped a finger to her chin. “I know exactly what I would do if I won the prize money.”
Eve glanced at her friend. “Let me guess. A honeymoon in Scotland?”
Smiling, Melinda added, “With a side trip to Castle Creag. Gosh, Kurt would love to go, too. He’s been talking about his own Scottish heritage for years. This would be a perfect gift for him.”
“For you, too,” added Eve.
“But first, I have to win the contest.”
“You’re so correct, my friend. I’m making my famous loaves of cinnamon bread and eggnog scones.”
Melinda rolled her eyes. “I’m doomed.”
Eve covered her mouth to stop the laughter from bubbling forth. Quickly recovering after getting the evil-eyed look from Helen, she stepped closer to her friend and lowered her head. “With what you’re planning today, I should be the one believing I have no chance in winning.”
Melinda winked. “Let the games begin.”
For a brief moment, Eve truly wished Melinda would be the one to win the prize money. Yet, she needed it a bit more than her friend did. As they hugged one another and wished the other good luck, Eve said a silent prayer today would be her day to shine.
While Eve walked to her work area, Linda bumped into her. “Oh, you’re still here?”
She held up her wooden spoon. “Damn straight!”
Linda’s eyes went wide at Eve’s declaration, and she quickly moved away.
“About time you took the lead with snappish comments,” replied Tina as she walked up alongside Eve and handed her a steaming cup of tea.
“It simply flew out of my mouth.” She took a sip and sighed. “You’re a sweetheart. I needed this.”
Tina embraced her. “All the best!”
“Thanks. I’m ready.” Shooing her away, Eve added, “And keep an eye on the wicked witches.”
Tina saluted her and walked away.
When Eve settled into the task of making her first items, the soothing sound of classical music combined with the smells and sounds of baking lured her into a state of bliss. Nothing calmed her nerves more than baking in a kitchen. It was her haven, particularly after the death of her parents and being placed with an elderly aunt when she was ten. Aunt Ginger taught her culinary secrets that had been passed down from generation to generation. Her first memories were of standing on a chair in her aunt’s large kitchen and dusting flour onto the cutting board in preparation for rolling out cookies.
Though her aunt had died several years ago, Eve often felt her presence when she was baking. Watch over me, Aunt Ginger. Guide my hands and thoughts. Let my love infuse the baking as you taught me.
Humming a familiar tune, Eve blocked out the other contestants and focused on her own tasks, reveling in the feel of the bread in her hands and her own memories.
Hours swiftly flew by and when Eve removed the last batch of eggnog scones from the oven, she sighed in utter contentment. Plating the scones on a silver tray that belonged to her aunt, Eve set them to the side of her beautifully baked cinnamon breads. With two minutes left, she wiped her hands on her apron and stood back.
Looking around the massive kitchen, she gave a small wave to her friend, Melinda. When the buzzer rang signaling the baking time had ended, she waited for the judges to come to her station. Since Eve was the last one they would visit, this gave her a chance to watch as the judges sampled the other’s fare.
Of course, they each gave nods of approval on her two rivals, Linda and Sally, but no
t overtly and Eve felt hopeful.
As they stood in front of Melinda’s table, the judges all started to cough. Helen snapped her fingers at one of the employees to fetch some water. Immediately, her friend uttered an apology, trying her best to explain.
Eve quickly stole a glance at Linda who was snickering and whispering to Sally.
Gritting her teeth, she stormed over to her friend’s side. “Is something wrong?”
“This is none of your concern, Eve. Please return to your station,” ordered Helen.
Melinda wiped away the tears starting to fall down her cheeks. “Salt,” she burst out. “Someone put salt in my sugar canister.”
Helen cut her off with a wave of her hand. “You are responsible for bringing in your own items. The rules are clear. The Blushing Rose Bakery would provide all the necessary staple ingredients. We are not to be blamed if you chose to bring in your own sugar.”
“It was vanilla sugar,” argued Melinda.
Eve handed her friend a box of tissues. “Obviously, someone tampered with the sugar.”
“I will not have you making false accusations,” Helen hissed at Eve. “Again, I must state the rules were very clear. Besides, you could have reached for the salt canister instead of sugar in a misstep.”
“How dare you suggest such a thing,” said a shocked Eve.
Melinda placed a hand on her arm. “Forget it. It’s over. Let it go.”
Eve looked at Helen and the other judges. Shaking her head, she turned to embrace Melinda. “I’m sorry.”
Regaining her composure, Eve walked back to her station and waited for the judges to move along to the rest of the others before coming to her table. All the time, her heart ached for her friend.
When the judges stood in front of her, Eve sliced the bread for each to sample and stood back. Between nods and smiles, they quickly jotted down their notes. The best nod to her baking came when several asked for seconds and Eve rejoiced, since they had not done so with the others.
Eve watched as the judges retreated to Helen’s office to discuss and make a decision. Grabbing a chair, she no sooner sat down when Tina appeared at her side.
“What happened?”
Sighing, Eve pushed aside one of her braids. “Apparently, someone tampered with Melinda’s vanilla sugar and added salt.”
“Son of a…I swear if one of those wicked witches wins, I’m going to take up knife throwing, and they’ll be my first victims.”
“It’s horrible,” mumbled Eve, flicking away the crumbs on her table.
“She really needed this money. Kurt recently lost his job and they had drained their savings for the wedding,” Tina added.
“No,” gasped Eve, glancing at Melinda. “She never said a word.”
The door to Helen’s office opened and everyone emerged.
“That’s my cue to leave. Keeping my fingers crossed you’re the winner.” Tina fled to the other side of the room.
Helen cleared her throat. “I would like to thank all my lovely guest judges for honoring The Blushing Rose Bakery’s First Annual Bake-Off with their support and time.” She turned to Chef Austen. “If you would do the honors of announcing the winner.”
Eve stood and held her breath.
“Thank you,” stated Chef Austen. “It was a difficult decision, but in the end, most of us agreed that Eve Brannigan’s Cinnamon Bread with Pecans and Eggnog Scones were the winner.”
The kitchen exploded into a hearty round of applause and shouts—mainly from Tina, but when Eve looked at Melinda, she saw her friend giving her a two thumbs up through her tears.
“Thank you,” she managed to say as Chef Austen handed her a trophy and a check for five thousand dollars.
Her smile faltered, as the other judges made their way to congratulate Eve. How could she rejoice when in her heart the win was marred with a tragedy? Linda and Sally had already left, not bothering to clean their area. It was evident they had spoiled Melinda’s chances at winning.
Although, it could have been Eve today.
Nodding and smiling at those in passing, Eve made her way to Melinda. “Why didn’t you tell me about Kurt?”
Melinda shrugged as she cleaned her table. “Because, my friend, you would have tried to help in some way. You’ve done so much already with helping us out with our wedding.”
“This is not fair. First Kurt loses his job and now this sabotage.”
“It will be all right.”
“Yes, it will.” Reaching into her pocket, Eve slapped the check onto the counter and endorsed it over to Melinda. “Take your trip to Scotland.”
Melinda backed away. “I will not take your prize money.”
“It’s my gift to you and Kurt. I was going to use it to get you a fabulous gift and now it’s even a better one.”
“I…can’t,” she sobbed. “You need a car.”
“No worries. I got the loan the other day,” lied Eve.
“That’s wonderful, but I still can’t accept this generous gift.”
Eve placed her hand on her hip. “I just signed it over to you, so please take it.” Smiling she added, “At least I won, which was more important.”
Melinda brushed her fingers over the check. “We really could use the money,” she uttered softly.
“Great, but let’s keep it between us.”
“I love you, Eve,” said Melinda, hugging her fiercely.
“Love you, too,” replied Eve.
Giving her friend one more hug, Eve made her way back to her area and started to clean. Yet, her thoughts turned inward to her own predicament of fixing her car and her neighbor’s heater.
She took a bite of one of the scones and sighed. “Hmm…perhaps there’s another contest I can enter.”
Chapter Three
“Weave together the ribbons of time—from the red, green, silver, and gold.”
Cormac stood on the North Tower rubbing his hands together to ward off the bone chilling air seeping throughout his body. Snow had fallen heavily during the night, and he grimaced when he made his way to the tower and glimpsed the area covered in a thick blanket of white. There would be no traveling to the village today.
He rubbed at his chin in frustration. The morning meal consisted of blackened bread—once again. Furthermore, Cormac would bet his best sword the evening meal would be the same. If he and his men had to endure one more meal of Ina’s vegetable pottage, so thick they had to wash it down with ale, he would take over the kitchens himself. And their precious ale should be savored nae gulped.
“Bloody hell,” he hissed. Glancing up at the gray sky, he shook his head. “Hear my plea, Gods of the skies. I ask ye to hold back more snow until I can make it to the village and return. We are heading into dark days here at my home, and I would wish them to be filled without grumblings from my men. Grant me two days to make it past Wolf Cavern and return with a cook.”
At the sound of approaching footsteps, he glanced to his right and let out a groan. “By the look on your face, Wallace, I deem ye are here to deliver unfavorable news, aye?”
“Sadly, ’tis true. Trouble in the kitchens again.”
“By the hounds of Cuchulainn!” roared Cormac, slamming a hand against the stone wall. “Pray tell it does not involve Ranald and Bran.”
The guard’s mouth twitched. “Nae, another. Tomas.”
“Tomas?” Closing his eyes, he waved his hand outward. “Give me the account.”
“The lad fetched a pail of milk as Ina had ordered. Upon returning, he collided with her in the kitchen, spilling the contents everywhere.”
Cormac slowly opened his eyes. “Dinnae tell me there was another injury?” Forgive me but please, Goddess, let it be the lad and not the cook.
“Ina has done damage to her ankle. She is unable to stand.”
“Lugh’s balls! Is there a curse over Castle Creag?” He started to pace.
“We will have to tend to our own meals,” responded Wallace.
Cormac paused. “Do ye
honestly believe I will let the men wander into the kitchens when they feel the need to fill their stomachs?”
His guard rubbed the back of his neck. “Nae. Not a good plan.”
“Can the lass tend the fire with help?”
“If she stops wailing, aye.”
He sighed. “Is the swelling too much for her to sit?”
Wallace shrugged slightly. “I have not witnessed the lass’s ankle.”
Bracing his hands on the ledge, Cormac gritted his teeth. The hands of fate were dealt and he must comply. “Send John and Gordon to my chambers, and then bring me news of the lass. If she can manage, and the swelling is light, I can have another assist her.”
The guard nodded and departed.
He narrowed his eyes when the first flake of snow landed on his face. “I fear this is going to be a verra long winter.”
Quickly leaving the tower, he made his way to his chambers. Upon entering, his wolfhound lying beside the blazing fire, lifted his head and yawned, stretching his long legs.
Cormac bent down near the animal and rubbed his ears. “Fergus, there are times I wish I was a dog. Ye have all the comforts and nae responsibilities. ’Tis a warm fire for a cold day.”
Fergus thumped his tail in response.
Standing, Cormac went inside his inner chambers and pulled forth a satchel from the trunk by his bed. Retrieving a small fur wrap, he went back to his study and placed the items on a chair along with his cloak and gloves. When he looked up, John stood at the door.
“Ye sent for me, my laird?”
“Aye, John,” replied Cormac, motioning for him to enter. “I have a special task for ye. I am leaving Creag for a few days to travel to one of the villages past Wolf Cavern. Since we have lost another cook, ye are the lone one I can trust to make sure the men are fed, though it will be meager. I dinnae want to return to find the larder empty.”