by Jana Aston
Yes, I’m totally giving myself a pep talk in the mirror. Heck, I'd high-five my reflection if I thought it would help.
Then I scrunch my nose at my reflection and try to determine if Keller James was serious when he said my scowl was cute. It's not that I thought he was joking, but did he mean cute like a kitten or cute like he'd consider making out with me? Or was he just messing with me?
Normally I'd think cute like a kitten but he did sorta maybe ask me out so I'm not entirely sure. I exhale so loudly my bangs shift so I reach up to straighten them with my fingertips. I took extra care with my hair today because we won't be wearing hair nets when we film, which makes sense. We're trying to make good television, not pass a health code check.
Still, I pulled my hair into a sleek pony tail after ensuring it was stick-straight. I'd prefer it not be hanging in my face when I'm racing against the clock to finish a challenge, but I want to look good.
I check over my outfit again. I'm wearing a vintage-inspired Christmas dress. The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off producers gave us a few guidelines for what to wear for the first day of filming. No logos, obviously. They suggested plaids or repetitive prints like polka dots. It's mostly up to us, so I went with a cute dress. The top is fitted and black, the bottom is red with black polka dots and it swings when I move. I do so now, watching it sway in the mirror.
I'm adorable.
Like a kitten.
I scowl at myself in the mirror again but decide I don't have time to doubt myself now. It wouldn't be prudent anyway, because I'm already on set.
By which I mean I'm hiding in the community center bathroom. The set is just down the hall though. We're filming inside the community center and the set they've created is incredible. Though I've never been on a set before so I suppose I don't have much to compare it to, but it's really cool. They've created a backdrop that looks like a smaller version of Reindeer Falls—a tiny replica of Main Street draped in garlands and decorated like a winter wonderland. The set pantry is stocked with everything a baker could need, along with big glass jars filled with every conceivable gingerbread decoration a girl could dream of. Gum drops and licorice. Peppermints and candy canes. Chocolate kisses and marshmallows and jelly beans and sprinkles in more varieties than I knew existed. Finally, large stainless-steel tables line the room, the front of each decorated for the camera.
It'd be heavenly minus this competing-against-superstars twist.
"Are you giving yourself a pep talk in the mirror?"
It's my sister Noel. She's entered the bathroom with a cup of coffee in her hand and a smirk on her face.
"You shouldn't be back here." I sigh in exasperation. Noel always does whatever she wants. She's the oldest sister and a bit bossy. I'm the youngest sister and excel at following directions.
"I shouldn't? This is a public restroom."
"You're supposed to be in the audience."
"Okay, I love you, Ginger, but ‘audience’ might be an oversell. There's, like, twenty folding chairs set up for friends and family to watch the taping. Mom's saving my seat if it makes you feel better. And she's got a bouquet of flowers for you like this is your first grade dance recital."
"That's so embarrassing," I groan. But also, I really do like flowers so I'm not really going to complain. I loop the official Great Gingerbread Bake-Off apron over my head and tie it off behind my back. It's minty blue and has an embroidered gingerbread man on the chest, along with my name. "How do I look?" I ask spreading my arms wide.
"Extra Gingery, actually."
"Extra Gingery? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Extra adorable."
Sigh.
"Why were you the only one blessed with natural red highlights?" my sister asks, eyeing my hair. "It's so unfair and the blue of that apron is really bringing them out.”
"Unfair? When I spend too much time in the sun I look like I'm related to Strawberry Shortcake and I'm regularly referred to as adorable. You're the pretty one."
"Hmm, that's true. Maybe you were adopted."
This is a long-running joke so I ignore her. I get the red highlights from my dad. My sisters take after my mom.
"Did you see the other competitors?" I ask her. "What do you think my chances are?"
"What do I think your chances are? Am I supposed to predict the baking prowess of the competition just by looking at them?"
"I don't know." I shrug. I mean, I guess not.
"Anyway, I think they're ready to start filming. They sent me in here to look for you."
"Noel! You should have led with that! Am I late?" I start spinning in circles looking for my phone. "What time is it?"
"You're fine. Let's go."
I follow Noel out of the bathroom and back to the set. I still can't believe this is happening. It's not as if being on a baking show has been my life's ambition, but it's a pretty lucky break they've come to my hometown to film. This is a great opportunity for me.
The Great Gingerbread Bake-Off is scheduled for four episodes. The first three will be filmed this week along with the B-roll. B-roll is supplemental footage that they cut in with the main shot. In a reality show it's basically all the stuff that makes you root for that contestant, such as footage of the contestant doing their day job or interacting with their families. Walking their dog or showing off some bizarre hobby like juggling. This is usually where they nab footage of the contestant speaking directly to the camera while the producer interviews them off camera, questions posed to effectively tug on your heartstrings.
We were each told to clear our entire week for this, but the reality is that eliminations start today. After each challenge someone's gingerbread head will be chopped off. Not literally. I mean at least I don't think so. But who knows what will happen in edits? They might have footage of a gingerbread cookie getting his head chopped off that they'll play along with Christmas music that's been altered to sound more dramatic than it is, building up the suspense about who's going home before they cut to a commercial break.
Whomp whomp. I hate that last commercial break. I'm always so anxious I'll get distracted before the show returns and miss the ending. I swear the dryer buzzer always goes off during that commercial. Or my oven timer. Or I'm so inspired by the episode I'm watching I need to run into my kitchen to see if I have any finely ground almonds on hand.
Anyway, someone is going home today.
Someone I hope very much is not me.
This week we film the elimination episodes and B-roll. Next week is the finale—for whomever makes it. They haven't given us many details on the challenges, just a general idea of what we should expect and the dates we have to be available.
I assume there will be some horrible surprise thrown in at the end too. Something like giving us an hour to make a doghouse from gingerbread. Using one hand, while singing Christmas carols.
That sort of surprise is very popular on the Food Network. It's fine though, because I'm prepared. I know you can't really prepare for a surprise challenge, but I'm ready for the unexpected, is what I mean.
Noel heads back to her folding chair as I scurry to join the other contestants. They're standing in a group as a producer gives some last-minute instructions. I hope I haven't missed anything. I peek over at my parents and give a little wave. Both of my sisters, Noel and Holly, are here, along with my parents, and they're all beaming with pride.
Also, Noel wasn't wrong about the audience. It is just a handful of folding chairs and my family is taking up most of them. I see some other familiar faces. The town mayor is here, and the sheriff. My boss from the Busy Bee Inn, Old Pete. The head of city council and a store owner from Main Street.
This is a real big deal in Reindeer Falls.
The moment the producer is done speaking, a sound tech begins the process of wiring each of us up for filming. It's go time.
I head over to the open pantry they've created along the wall while I wait my turn with the sound tech. I want to take a mental note of what we have avail
able to us, memorize where everything is. It might save me a few seconds later and I've seen enough of these shows to know every second counts. Either that or they're all edited very dramatically to make it seem as though every second counts. But still, it can't hurt.
I'm not alone long though.
Keller joins me the moment I'm alone, a big grin on his stupid gorgeous face.
Trickster.
Go on a hike with me, Ginger. You're cute, Ginger. Tell me about your candied ginger sea salt chocolate-chip cookies, Ginger.
Ugh.
I don't like him. I can't like him.
Still, my heart is racing. There's something about him that I react to, that makes every nerve ending wake up and take notice. Keller James just has it. That undefined something that draws you in. A pull to engage. He exudes confidence and charm as if they're renewable resources with no need to use them sparingly.
He's in dark jeans and a navy sweater. All long-limbed and tall and fit and insanely good-looking. He looks better than the seasonal drink menu at your favorite coffee shop. And so help me, I just want to lean into him so I'll know what it feels like to rest my head on his chest and have his arms wrapped around me. Maybe huff in his scent like a sugar junkie at a candy factory. Tell him all my secrets and give him all my recipes.
What? Ugh, no! See the kind of voodoo powers he has? What am I even thinking? Crazy thoughts, that's what. I'll probably be offering to let him use my oven next. And no, that wasn't even a euphemism for something naughty. I meant it literally. I'm three seconds away from blushing and stepping aside all googly-eyed and giving him carte blanche of all the coveted appliances like the ice cream maker or the blast chiller.
Fine, maybe I'm projecting. We haven't even started yet and I'm already imagining scenarios of how this crush is going to ruin me. And yes, I've probably watched far too many baking and cooking shows in preparation for this contest. But I promise you, none of those contestants had to deal with what I'm dealing with.
Because Keller James wasn't standing in front of any of those contestants looking like a plate of snickerdoodles.
If snickerdoodles were sexy.
You know what I mean. None of those contestants had this kind of distraction.
Although I did once see an episode of Sandwich Shop Showdown in which Keller was judging the semi-final round and there was a grandmother from Portland on that episode and I don't think she was thinking grandmotherly thoughts about Keller. That's all I'm saying.
I feel you, Doris from Portland. I feel you.
Except I have to deal with him at the workstation directly next to mine.
Keller leans against a pantry shelf lined with glass jars of molasses. Mental note, molasses is on a shelf the approximate height of Keller's shoulder. I have to tilt my head back a little to meet his eyes because he's a tall drink of water.
"Hi," I offer, because my conversational skills are scintillating.
"You ran off so quickly earlier I was afraid my eyes had deceived me and I hadn't seen you at all."
He says all that with a smile and in his British accent, which is devastating. On both counts. I want to hang on to every delightfully accented word that comes out of his mouth. Why, oh, why does everything sound better when he says it?
"I'm so glad you're here. This is going to be a lot more fun than I thought it would be."
I blink.
He sounds... flirty?
But not creepy. Flirty as if he's genuinely glad to see me here.
It's the charisma, I decide. Charisma is the thing that makes you believe if you met a celebrity in real life you'd be friends. And that they'd think you're fun. And possibly good in bed. I slap a palm to my forehead before I respond in a last-ditch effort to knock some sense into myself.
"I can't believe you're my competition. This is so unfair." I throw my hands up in the air in disgust. "Ugh, this is just like the tenth grade when Matty Novak got all chummy with me and asked me to make peppermint bark and I thought it was because he had a crush on me but he didn't. He just wanted me to help him out so he had something to give to Jascinda Thomas when he asked her to the winter dance."
"How exactly is this like that?" Keller grins at my outburst, scanning my face in something like astonished amusement.
"It just is!"
"Ginger, I would never ask you to make peppermint bark for another woman," Keller declares solemnly. It's a look he can barely pull off because his lips are twitching to break into a smile.
"You misled me!"
"I did nothing of the sort. I had no idea you were a contestant on this show. You're the one who asked me if I was in town for the competition. You never told me you were also competing. You're the one who misled me, with your distracting candied ginger cookies and nearly burning the Inn down."
"Because I thought you were a celebrity judge. Not a competitor." I barely refrain from adding the word “duh” to the end of that sentence. I don't know what's come over me. I'm not normally so sassy, especially this close to Christmas.
"So you were flirting with me because you thought I was a judge?" Keller's brows rise, his eyes playfully narrowed. "You naughty minx, you." He says the words a bit softer, the hint of a growl in his voice. I nearly swoon at his feet, which will not do.
No. Not happening. Gotta keep my head in the game and the game is gingerbread, not obtaining a date to the winter formal. Eyes on the prize. I will not be distracted by this tall, dark and handsome jerk.
Err, fine, jerk seems extreme. He's been quite friendly, I suppose. Unless he really is trying to get into my recipe box instead of my... well, you know. Tall, dark and handsome... jackal.
"I wasn't flirting. You were flirting." There. That'll show him. That I'm twelve. Way to spar, Ginger.
"Oh, I was definitely flirting," he agrees easily and I'm thrown off kilter again. I expected him to deny it. Or ignore it, not to boldly agree while looking at me the way he looks at me. Like I'm a woman to be flirted with.
"Why?"
"Because you're adorable."
Ughhh. Adorable like a kitten, there it is. Adorable like the youngest sister. Adorable as in he's just friendly flirting, not flirting with intent to get me naked.
Then he winks at me.
And obviously I'm in love with him in that totally normal way you're in love with someone you don't know at all but are sure they could be your perfect match based on the very limited time you've spent together, combined with watching him eat brunch on his Food Network show while visions of an idyllic future dance in your head.
But really, if I give this jerk my gingerbread recipe, what's next? He'd probably want my almond tart recipe. Then he'd want a glass of milk and a plate. And then he'd want to know where I got my adorable vintage Santa Claus plates and then the finale would air and he'd go back to filming Brunch, Biscuits & Tea while I mooned around Reindeer Falls for the rest of my life writing “Mrs Keller James” in notebooks while I remembered him as the great almost-love of my life and he remembered me as that girl who made excellent candied ginger sea salt chocolate-chip cookies.
Or worse, he wouldn't even remember my cookies.
"Besides, from what I tasted yesterday, I'm the one who should be intimidated, Ginger," he says with another slow grin and oh, good lord, Keller James just complimented my baking while flirting with me. I try to swallow and breathe at the same time while thinking of an appropriate response, but luckily the sound technician interrupts before I have to.
Chapter 3
"On your mark, get set, go!"
I'm not even joking. They really do set a timer and then tell us to run while the camera crew gets footage of the eight of us gathering supplies in a frantic rush as we hustle from our workstations to the pantry and back.
Challenge number one is any recipe we want, using—get this—candied ginger. I almost laugh but I don't want to get cocky. I side-eye Keller's station while I make my signature cookies. I have plenty of time for side-eyeing this challenge because I've ma
de these candied ginger and sea salt chocolate-chip cookies so many times I could do so blindfolded.
The first challenge flies by. Likely due to nerves, but also because it's a forty-five-minute challenge. I only need twenty to make a tray of these cookies, though I do have a moment of doubt when I see someone else has managed to bake mini-orange breads with a candied ginger glaze in the allotted time. Bold move.
Keller makes candied ginger pumpkin pancakes and honestly? I swoon a little. Candied ginger pumpkin pancakes are so sexy. No? Fine, maybe it's just me.
There's also a candied ginger apple pie and crystallized ginger gingerbread and ginger spice cookies with a crystallized ginger frosting.
The Holidays in Holland winner makes chocolate-covered pieces of candied ginger and is sent home.
Then we're all asked to change before we begin filming the second challenge because the second challenge will be shown as episode two of this series and via changes of clothing and the magic of separating the challenges into different episodes no one will realize this was filmed in just a couple of days.
Challenge number two is gingerbread cheesecake. We need to have three servings plated and ready for presentation in two hours. Since most cheesecakes take anywhere from an hour to ninety minutes to bake, we really do need to hustle. I imagine everyone will be using the blast chiller to get their cheesecakes cooled quickly enough to remove from the pan for slicing. But who knows, we might all interpret this challenge differently. Someone could very well make a gingerbread cheesecake ice cream or gingerbread cookies with a cheesecake filling. I'm not going to chance such a risky move because the directions were gingerbread cheesecake and I'm not about to take any shortcuts and get sent home during the first episode.
Besides, I know exactly what I'm making. Shortbread crust. Gingerbread cheesecake filling. Then a layer of molasses mousse topping, with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg.