Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,51
I was nervous. With the layers for my espresso caramel entremet chilling in the blast freezer, I set about making my stained-glass window. The general idea wasn’t so much church, but a coffee morning and quiet peace. I wasn’t aiming for complicated but for rainbow colors that reflected the sugar work of a bouquet of roses.
I couldn’t see what Justin was doing, but whatever it was seemed taller than mine and more complicated, but I stuck with the intricacies of fragile sheets of opaque colored glass from sugar along with delicate piped coffee roses. We had four hours, but by the end of hour three I was exhausted. We all were, and it showed. Ivan was on edge. Kristen seemed to be staring into the refrigerator every time I looked over, and Clare was mumbling to herself. We’d been told that if anyone dropped something, the rest of us were to exchange glances and pitying looks. They’d be lucky if they got a shot of one of us even caring about anyone else when our own works were so close to toppling or being knocked into a million sugar shards.
We were five minutes from the end and I had everything in place. Ivan had finally finished his creation of a waterfall. Kristen was also done, hers an hourglass filled with sugar sand. I couldn’t see Clare’s properly, but from here it looked like a nest or something. However, the one I was really interested in was the tower that Justin had created. Above his raspberry and white chocolate entremet was a trellis with a climbing flower, and it was stunning.
He didn’t seem happy though, he was staring at it as if it had personally insulted him and was checking it from all angles. I could see that the balance was slightly off, but he shouldn’t fuss with it, not when the judges were heading our way.
A few seconds to go until judging and the flower began to slide. I tried to warn him. I could see from here that one touch and the flower would crumble. I’m not sure he even touched it, but one of the tiny flowers fell to the counter and smashed. The noise of it was horrifyingly loud in the silent room, and I didn’t have to pretend to be upset for him. Justin still had a showpiece, but that last delicate bloom had been the best of them.
He stared at the pieces on the floor, but he didn’t look upset, instead I think he was genuinely in shock. I moved around the debris to him immediately.
“It’s okay,” I reassured, aware that the camera was right in our faces and turning my head so they just had a view of my hair.
“It wasn’t right anyway,” he said in a dull voice.
“It was beautiful, but it’s okay, you still have a wonderful display.” I kept my voice low and only loud enough for him to hear it. Fuck the cameras and the show because I’d seen his face when he moved to touch his display—worry, disappointment, even fear. He looked as though his whole world was as fragile as the spun sugar.
I was ushered back to my counter, but I kept a clear line of sight to Justin even if the cameras got in the way now and then. Tripping over a cable wasn’t going to look good on the show, but Justin needed something. Me to be a wall he could hide behind? Maybe. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I needed to find out.
You’re forever trying to fix things. That was what my mom said to me, and she was right. I didn’t like to see people upset, and it didn’t matter if it was a broken-down car or a relationship ending, I was always the one that could be depended on to have someone’s back.
The judging was upside down. Justin was third, they said he’d be first, but that his execution had been lacking for it to crack and fall at the last second. I thought they might have mentiond that the studio lights played havoc with melted glassy sugar, but no, they just laughed. Cruel and unnecessary, and I’d be taking that up with Rita when I saw her next. I was second. Clare first with her take on a spun sugar birds nest decorating her chocolate panna cotta and berry mousse entremet. Kristen came fourth. Ivan fifth, and it was obvious that Kristen would be the next to go home. She’d