Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,43

smiled at him.

“Okay, judges sum up in 5, 4, 3… ” The 2 and 1 were silent, and it was Courtney with the questions.

“So, judges, your favorites this week?”

Lewis went first. “Clare’s gingerbread apartment and Brody’s toy store were the outstanding ones for me. Attention to detail plus flavor profiles that thrilled me. Wonderful.”

“Agreed,” Venetia said. “But also an honorary mention for Justin’s house in the woods with its creepy chocolate trees, a fantastic take on a very different kind of Christmas.”

“And your baker of the week?” Courtney prompted.

“Baker of the week for week one is… ”

There was a long pause for dramatic effect, and the same thing that was maybe a few seconds on the television came over as hours when it was us sitting on the stools.

“… Brody!”

Me? I received hugs and slaps on the back and a pointed comment from Clare that I had all the luck, and then abruptly, even when my shock had begun to turn to elation, we were about to hear who was going home.

“I’m sorry guys. This is the worst part of the week, and it was a very close thing. But, Shauna, I’m sorry your time with us has ended.”

I glanced Shauna’s way, but she was far from unhappy with that decision, and all I could focus on was the glimmer of complete satisfaction in Clare’s face as she gave a ton of fake praise to Shauna.

Then we were done—we had off the rest of the day, and in the morning, we were on to episode two.

I stopped at Justin’s table, and he joined me as I bit off a bit of his gingerbread, so tasty, and then used it to scoop up some of the snow. I think he was trying to stop me, but I wanted to try the cream that he was endorsing.

It fizzed? How was that even a thing? It was like a heavy cream substitute, fluorescent white, and kind of solid looking. I tried my hardest to chew and suck and swallow, but I swear if it went down it was going to come back up. There was no hiding my expression of disgust when I had to spit it into a napkin.

“It’s disgusting, isn’t it.” Justin grimaced and then wiped all the snow away with a towel. “I don’t want anyone else trying it.”

“It might work for… ” I desperately thought of something it would work for, but I don’t imagine he’d want to hear my theory about how it wasn’t fit to be in a baking show. “…something,” I finished lamely.

“It’s horrible, but I signed a contract I can’t get out of, and if I don’t endorse it a certain number of times, then I lose the payout.”

“Which is?”

He met my gaze head-on. “Three mentions on the show, twenty thousand dollars.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I guess they have to be good mentions?” I was teasing him, and I felt a familiar tug of distrust. If he could endorse this product for money then that was lying. “Never mind, it’s not as if you do real baking as a profession.”

He winced and then sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just marketing.” He didn’t sound convinced, but at least he smiled. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I didn’t comment that my tongue was still fizzing or that the taste in my mouth was like the bottom of a birdcage. I grabbed a soda and drank the whole can before we even left the huge conservatory annex.

The walk back to the Fairmont was boisterous fun. A small snowball fight that I got pulled into, and Justin selfies with the ‘WhereIsClare’ hashtag never more meaningful after she’d left the rest of us, all the time muttering about working with children. He didn’t seem pissed at my reaction to his snow, in fact since that absolute moment of honesty his smile was wider, and his step lighter.

Somehow we’d formed teams. Ivan and Kristen took Shauna, which meant that I was with Justin, who had absolutely no idea about snowball strategy. We’d taken refuge behind a woody hedge after a bombardment from a well-organized and utterly ruthless Ivan & Co.

“Look, you need to do it this way.” I picked up snow and compacted it enough so that it would disintegrate on impact but hard enough so that it flew. “It’s like you’ve never done this before.” I grinned and helped him make our next supply.

“I didn’t have many friends who wanted to throw snowballs.” His tongue poked out as he concentrated, giving this snowball