Laughing, Tyler jogged to the car, relieved Star of the case and opened the back door. The women definitely needed to sit side by side to solve the issue of their intense discussion.
Stashing the case in the trunk, climbing behind the wheel, adjusting the mirror, his lips stretched to the limit at his passengers. “Your chauffer, my ladies. We shall be at the arena in precisely twelve minutes.”
“Thanks, Ty. Gran, there are only two categories left … plus, the final round. I’d bet my life that they will leave the last round up to us bakers. So, your taffy it will be.”
“Did you bring the apothecary jars, dear? You know how pretty the various colors look on display.”
“Yes, five. Five colors—lime, lemon, orange, peach, and red and white stripe peppermint.”
“Beautiful. Tyler, how are you this morning, dear?”
“Couldn’t be better, Madame. You look well, roses on your cheeks.”
“Oh, Tyler, you are something else. While I’m here, you have to show me your cartoons. Star has raved about them all summer.”
“Happy to, my lady. But first, we must deposit the damsel at the competition. Mademoiselle, here is my handkerchief. Put it in your apron pocket for luck.” Tyler kissed the white linen square, handing it over his head with a wave to Star in the backseat.
“Thanks, Ty.” With a giggle, Star stuffed the handkerchief down the neck of her fresh white blouse.
“Ah, a little laugh, my lady. Your heart is a bit lighter today, I think.”
“You look like an adorable baker doll, Star,” Gran said. “White blouse, short black skirt, black shoes. The frilly apron is perfect. Is this the uniform for all the contestants?”
“No. We choose our outfits. As the producer said, we are amateurs dreaming of the big prize. I think it’s easier for a television audience to tell us apart if we’re not dressed alike.”
“It’s so exciting. I promise, I won’t make a peep. Wouldn’t want to distract you, but the judges better not say anything bad about your baking or they’ll have me to deal with.”
“Gran, the judges give critiques when they taste each product. They can be quite critical.”
“Humph, I’m just saying.”
Tyler turned into the driveway, scanned the parking lot, swung around to the front entrance. “Wow, lots of cars. A semi behind the building—looks like they’re carting in folding chairs. And, look at the TV crew. Star, this is the big time. Mrs. Bloom—”
“Tyler, please call me Mary, although I quite like Madame.”
“Very well, Madame Mary, save me a seat, if you please. Star, text me when you know what time the last bake-off begins—your taffy pull? My parents would like to come, cheer you on. If that’s okay with you?”
“Invite them to join us as early as they like. And, Ty … thanks for the good luck hanky.”
Chapter 43
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COMMOTION FILLED the baking hall.
Movers aligned fifty or so folding chairs in two rows, staggered so everyone could see the action.
The cameramen, who had been filming from the start, were positioned on the sleds making last minute adjustments.
Three cable network crews jockeyed for position on either side of the stage enabling them to swing around to the judges, the host, the bakers. With cameras hoisted on their shoulders, they could easily walk around zooming in and out for the best shot. A cameraman was ready to walk alongside a reporter interviewing the bakers, asking for a snippet of why they entered the competition, their background, and what they would do with the money if they won.
Star’s heart shifted into overdrive as she settled Gran in the front row center, and then strode to her workstation swapping comments with a fiftyish woman competitor behind her. The four workstations were lined up two on either side of the aisle.
Jim and Stephanie entered from the hallway at the back of the stage followed by the two judges.
All were smiling. The cameras rolling.
“Welcome, Bakers.” Jim paused looking over the scene in front of him. Each baker stood in the center of their workspace facing him. “As you can see, we have made some changes since you were last here—fewer stations, chairs for spectators, and more cameras. We are also honored to have some guests … I suspect more of your family and friends will join us later today. A few came early.” Jim nodded to Gran and two others.
“Network and cable stations are present—nothing like a little publicity I always say.” Jim looked to his right, to his left, nodding to ABC’s Orlando affiliate, CBS’s Orlando affiliate, and Brighthouse, a cable provider for central Florida. “We also have a reporter from our local newspaper, The News Journal, Daytona Beach.”
Jim nodded to the reporter.
“Thank you all. I’m sure you will enjoy the drama that is about to unfold, drama with sweet morsels, a nice benefit when you attend a baking contest. You are all invited after the contest to join in a celebration—soft drinks, and to taste the final round of baked goods.
“We had another withdrawal this morning. The contestant who burned her hand yesterday decided she could not compete on the level she felt was required to win.
“Today, the final day, you will be challenged with the task of completing entries for two episodes. The category for the first episode will be pastries, a French pastry. The second will be your choice, but something sweet, enough for fifty people to sample. If we have more than fifty guests, we will cut the products into smaller pieces so everyone has a taste. You will have two and a half hours for each category, a forty-five minute break between.
“After the grand prize is awarded, refreshments will be served, and reporters will be given a chance to interview the winner. To make it to the finals—Stephanie and I believe you are all winners.
“Declared a winner or not, with the media attention, the display of your baking talent, we believe that doors will open to you for a future in baking if you choose that path.
“So, without further adieu … bakers, pastry is the category.
“Let the baking begin.”
Chapter 44
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STAR THREW A SMILE Gran’s way then opened her little metal recipe binder. They had discussed her final entry late into the night and had decided if the category was pastry, Star would prepare Buche-de Noel, the Christmas log. A pastry the two of them baked on numerous Christmas holidays as far back as Star could remember, the pastry serving as the their table’s centerpiece.
After Christmas dinner, after the dishes were cleared away, Gran would cut the log, gently sliding each piece onto a china plate. Star, one by one, set a plate in front of each family member. She would then take her place next to Gran, and Gran would take the first bite to see if it was worthy of eating. Of course, it always was.
Star loved the tradition.
She set to work, first baking a thin sponge cake, rolled the cake into a cylinder, icing it to resemble a Yule log. Next she prepared the Marzipan, rolling the dough into sheets, and then separating the sheets into smaller batches to add coloring: green holly leaves, red holly berries, and dough colored mushrooms with a smudge of cocoa powder. Placing the little decorations, leaves and berries on the log, and mushrooms spaced here and there against the log, Star glanced at Gran, sharing a smile and many memories.
Star finished with a few minutes to spare.
The judges stopped at the end of each baker’s counter discussing the presentation, the taste, the quality, then moved to the front of the hall.
There was no contest. Star came in first in the pastry category.
Jim declared a forty-five minute break as additional guests entered the hall, Tyler scooting in behind them. Stepping quickly, he brought a take-out sandwich and a large coffee to Star and a sandwich and smaller coffee to Gran. Star didn’t think she could eat, but at Gran’s urging tried a bit of ham and cheese devouring it with several bites. She was hungry after all.
Manny, Liz, and Jane sauntered in and Tyler
manned-up introducing everyone to Mary, Star’s grandmother. Behind several other guests and family members of the bakers, Star spotted Benny and the Butterworth sisters. Batting her eyes to keep the tears at bay, she quickly went to greet them, grasping the handles of Benny’s wheelchair, guiding him to the outside edge of her workstation. “You’re going to be my guardian angel, Benny,” she whispered in his ear.
Benny chuckled. “I didn’t know a man could be an angel.”
“You’re an exception, my friend. Thank you so much for coming,” she said giving him a hug and a kiss on his rosy cheek.
Gran hustled up to her granddaughter. “And who is this handsome gentleman,” she asked.
“Gran, meet Benny. Benny and I met the first time I went into the diner. You might say we came in together. Benny, this is my Gran.”
Gran shook Benny’s hand then turned to Star. “How about we saw up that log, give your friends a chance to sample your baking?”
“Good idea. There are paper plates, napkins, and I think I some plastic forks …”
Gran took her traditional place in front of the log, placed a small piece on each plate, and Star delivered pieces to her well-wishers and others until the log was gone.
The additional people filling the hall, laughing, chattering, sampling the baker’s products provided a delightful scene captured by all the cameras. Reporters interviewed family members, jotting down background stories on each of the contestants.
The forty-five minute break was extended to an hour and fifteen minutes.
Chapter 45
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“JIM, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, get over here.” Stephanie stood in the back hallway grabbing his arm as he strolled by with an empty plate, licking his lips as he popped the last piece of a Marzipan mushroom in his mouth. She pulled him into an empty room that in its history had been a storeroom.
“What’s wrong? Did you try—”
“We’re dead!”
“What do you mean we’re dead?”
“Oh, I don’t know … like in broke, no contract, not one network wants us, kinda like we’re skewered … hung out to dry.”
“Okay with the metaphors. I’ll ask you again and please, specifics this time. What happened?”
“Our agent called. Our last chance for a contract came in negative. He tried them all again, anyone who had shown interest. The networks, the cable outlets, free lancers—all said no. What are we going to do?” Stephanie paced the dusty room, looked out a grimy window, hands planted on her hips.
Jim, fingers laced behind his neck, blew out a long blast of air. How had it come to this? He knew he had a good reality series. The series was perfect for television, but his timing was bad. Down economy. Networks were not about to take a chance on something new. Hell, they weren’t going to gamble on some new producer out of the blue. They were staying with what they knew, something tried and true, a producer with a track record of creating winners.
“So, Jim … hello … Stephanie to Jim. I asked you, what are we going to do?”
“First, we say nothing until the winner is named. We tell the winner we’ll talk after everyone is gone—the judges, the camera guys, the rental van. The reporters don’t have to know. They have their story. The rental company will pick up everything as per the agreement. All the equipment will be loaded into the semi parked out back. They’ve been given instructions to pack up everything else dropping it off at a church in Port Orange—a donation. What the church can’t use they’re free to hold a fundraiser. Whatever. I just want it gone. The crew will get their checks in the mail. If they balk, we tell them that in the excitement we didn’t get their checks cut.”
“Yeah? And the winner?”
“We tell the winner the truth, God knows we tried. There is no money. We’ll write up a note that we owe the money. That’s show business, Steph. Sometimes the show closes before it opens. Come on, let’s finish the production. Remember, we still have a great show…maybe someday…” Jim threw his hands in the air, marched down the hall, marched into the makeshift studio.
All eyes were trained on the host—the bakers, the guests, the cameras, the reporters.
Chapter 46
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JIM MARCHED TO the center of the stage, snatched up the microphone, and addressed the audience.
“Well, here we are. The final bake-off. The final episode. What a journey it’s been.”
He looked around. Great crowd.
“Okay, What do you say? Shall we get on with it?”
A chorus yelled out, “YES!”
Jim smiled, took a deep breath. “Remember, you are all invited to stay for refreshments, congratulate the winner, and wish all the competitors good luck.
“Bakers, are you ready?”
Again the chorus, “YES!”
“Something sweet … your choice.
“Bakers, let the baking begin.”
Wanda and Charlie, along with Tyler’s parents, quietly entered the hall, saw Tyler, waved at him, and joined Star’s cheering section.
With images of Tyler in his mom’s kitchen, Star smiled at him, at his mom and dad. They nodded in return sharing her thoughts. Ty was dying to tell her his news, but not now. This was Star’s big moment.
Gran’s taffy was her ace in the hole.
If she didn’t come in number one with this, then she would have given it her all, and she could walk away knowing she had done her best.
Benny didn’t say a word, his eyes following every move Star made. Nodding encouragement if she looked his way, his face lighting up when she pulled and pulled the taffy to reach the consistency where she could separate the large band into separate portions. He was still grinning when she added the flavorings turning the taffy lemon yellow, lime green, but the red and white strip was pure magic.
Time was running out.
Star scurried from side to side, lining up the scissors, wax paper, apothecary jars for the final push. Working with one section at a time, pulling it out to about one and a half inches wide, three-quarters of an inch thick, she cut the section into pieces with the scissors, wrapped each piece in wax paper, twisted the ends of the paper to seal, and dropped it into the jar. On to the next piece. The final section was the striped peppermint.
Almost finished.
Jim called out, “Time’s up! Put your entry to the end of the counter for the judges and return to the center of your station.”
Star put the lid on the last jar, lining it up with the others at the end of the counter.
She made it with two seconds to spare.
Wiping her hands on her frilly apron, she turned to Benny handing him a piece of the striped peppermint that he loved. His gnarled fingers reached for her hand, kissed her fingers. “Thank you, Star. You were wonderful. Just look at those jars. I swear they’re twinkling at the judges.”
The judges seemed to take forever, stopping to chat with each competitor, wishing them good luck, and telling them how much they had enjoyed tasting their products. After making the rounds, the judges held a conference in the back room with the producers, finally emerging with their results.
Jim picked up the microphone, looked around at the array of cameras, the guests. Then he turned to the bakers.
“The judges said it was a difficult decision and they appreciated your efforts, and believe you have the talent to pursue a successful career in baking. But, they also felt one of you stood out from the rest, deserving to be the winner of the Florida Amateur Baking Competition … and that baker is … Star Bloom.”
Tyler was the first to reach her, picking her up in a fierce hug, twirling her around. “Congratulations, my little baker girl. Of course, I knew all along you’d pull off a win.” He set her on her feet, gave her a smooch smack on her lips surprising them both. Star, face flushed from her victory, or was it his kiss, beamed at her friend as reporters broke into their personal celebration.
“Wait, wait, Benny. Benny, are you okay? Be careful everybody, th
is man is my special friend. Don’t trample him.”
“I’ve got him, Star,” Tyler said, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair. “We’re going to help ourselves to the refreshments. Right, Benny?”
“Right, Tyler … over there with the Butterworth sisters.”
The melee continued around Star.
Television crews followed their reporters, taking pictures of Star Bloom then of the other finalists. The News Journal Reporter asked a few questions, told her he’d do a follow-up story in a few days.
No one noticed the movers hauling everything, piece by piece, out of the hall. No one noticed the semi-truck rolling out of the parking lot, or the large van loaded with camera gear following the truck.
Finally the chatter died down as the party began to break up. The reporters, cable and network news, along with the reporter from the News Journal, left to submit their stories. Charlie and Wanda left, driving Benny and the Butterworth sisters back to the diner. Liz, Manny, and Jane beamed at Star, shaking their heads, blown away by what their friend had accomplished, and with one last hug left the hall, an apothecary jar of lemon taffy under Jane’s arm.
Tyler’s parents hugged Star, and hoped she’d be over for pizza again soon. They wanted to know all the gory behind-the-scene details. Cindy cradled the jar of lime taffy as she and Tony said goodbye.
Gran gave her granddaughter a hug, whispering in her ear, that they would begin plans to lease the little bakery.
Tyler said he’d wait by the door for her. He thought maybe a little more celebrating would be nice.
Star turned as Jim and Stephanie approached. “Quite a day, Star,” Jim said. “Congratulations.” He looked around for a place to sit, but the hall was bare. “Those men certainly cleared everything out in record time. We don’t even have a chair to sit on. Stephanie and I want to talk to you, to tell you—”
Stephanie jumped in. Jim was such a wimp. “Star the good news is you won the competition. The bad news is that the contract we thought we had to syndicate the show fell through. There is no money. We put up most of the cash to produce the competition. If it’s any consolation to you, we’ lost all that money. We’re broke.”
One Summer: ...at Charlie's Diner (The Baker Girl Book 1) Page 16