Christy and Chrissy prance into the dining area, back from judging. Their unnaturally smooth faces are radiant, which means they must have done well—darn it.
I don’t care for those two, and I won’t shed any tears if they happen to go home.
“Harper, Sadie—you’re up,” Paula says.
Strangely, I’m reminded of a nurse calling my name at the doctor’s office. Sadie and I scramble to our feet, attempt to smooth our aprons, and then follow Paula in.
The cameras are trained on us, and the lights are blindingly bright. The judges sit at a table, waiting. Alexandra and Peter are almost expressionless, but Jonathan flashes us a bright smile. He’s one of last year’s winners, and he more than anyone knows how difficult this is.
In high school, I was in both FBLA and Student Council, so I’m no stranger to public speaking, but this is a whole new league. I swallow, desperately hoping I don’t make a fool of myself.
I glance at Sadie to see how she’s faring. Her eyes are wide and nervous, but she has a sweet smile on her face. She looks like a doll—fragile and adorable. The judges’ expressions soften as soon as they set eyes on her.
Perfect.
My own smile becomes a little more genuine. They won’t go easy on us, but maybe they’ll temper their reactions for darling Sadie’s sake.
“Sadie, Harper,” Mason says, his eyes lingering on me a moment too long as he says my name. “Please tell the judges a little about each of the cookies you made.”
“Your first sample is a soft ginger sandwich cookie with a bittersweet chocolate ganache,” I say, thankful my voice is strong.
Each of the judges takes a bite, none of them speaking. Sadie shifts, terrified.
I’m not sure you can even call Alexandra’s bite a “bite.” It’s more like a kitten nibble. She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t care for your ganache.” She sets the cookie aside. “You said it’s bittersweet, but I’m only getting bitter.”
Peter turns to her. “I disagree. I like the dark flavor, and the cookie is plenty sweet enough to counteract it. In fact, I think the cookie is too sweet, and I’m not getting enough of the molasses flavor.”
Shaking his head, Jonathan finishes his cookie, polishing off the entire thing. When he’s done, he leans forward, his gaze going between both Sadie and me. “I loved it. The texture was spot on, and the sweet, sugary molasses complemented the dark chocolate perfectly. That was a good cookie.”
A smile flutters back to Sadie’s face, and we both nod.
“Sadie, can you tell us about the next cookie?” Mason says after several more minutes of debate.
I wasn’t prepared for the judging to take quite this long. Apparently, we only see a fraction of it on television.
Sadie clears her throat, and her hands flutter before she clasps them at her waist. “The gingerbread cutouts are a variation of my grandmother’s recipe. We always talked about auditioning for the show.”
Peter leans forward, resting on his elbow, and says in his charming British accent, “I’ll bet she’s proud of you for making it here.”
Before she answers, Sadie purses her lips, composing herself. After several moments, she answers, “She passed away last November.”
Every one of them, including Mason, gives her the stricken sad face, each ready to eat out of the palm of her hand.
Sadie braves a smile. “But I think she would be, yes.”
They all bestow her with approving, understanding nods.
“It has a good texture,” Alexandra says after she takes yet another baby bite. “And the flavor is excellent.”
Jonathan nods, but Peter shakes his head. “It’s too soft. A gingerbread cutout should be snappy, something you can dip in tea.”
“No,” Alexandra says curtly. “These are perfect and soft and delicate. Despite the age-old tradition, gingerbread should not break your teeth.” She turns to us. “And your icing is simply beautiful.”
They all seem to agree on that point at least. The three bicker for a while, and then we finally get to the third cookie.
“The last cookie in front of you is a sweet and spicy molasses crinkle cookie,” I say, “topped with turbinado sugar.”
Sadie and I share a look, and we both hold our breaths as they take their first bite. This cookie was a gamble.
