“Best decorated cookie,” she announced. “One prize. Eternal glory.”
“What is the prize?” someone asked.
“A sense of achievement,” Lucy said. “And a surprise."
“A surprise?” the bride questioned.
“It’s the best prize,” I agreed even though I had no idea of what Lucy was planning.
They worked with renewed focus. Frosting lines became more careful. Sprinkles were placed with greater precision. One bridesmaid held her cookie at eye level and squinted at it like she was appraising a painting.
When they were done, Lucy collected the contenders onto a single tray and looked around the room. “We need a judge.”
Several bridesmaids looked at the nearest cameraman. He held up his free hand. “I can’t. I am biased toward whatever I have the best shot of.”
“What about Jane?” the bride suggested.
“It wouldn't be fair if I judged since I taught you the techniques.” I didn’t want to judge. I didn’t like the idea of hurting their feelings.
“Then who,” Lucy mused as her gaze swept the room and landed on someone behind me. “There he is.”
I turned.
Braxton had returned, apparently having deposited James safely somewhere else. He stood near the door, taking in the scene with a puzzled expression that made it clear he had not expected to be summoned.
“You,” Lucy said, pointing at him. “You will judge.”
He blinked. “Judge what?”
“Best cookie,” she said. “Come on. You look like you would be fair.”
The tray of cookies was placed in front of him. The bridesmaids watched like a jury awaiting a verdict.
He took the role seriously. He bent closer to study each one, hands clasped behind his back. This made a smile tug at my lips.
“Strong use of color,” he murmured at one cookie. “Good line work here.”
One bridesmaid giggled. Another whispered something to her friend and glanced at him through her lashes.
“You don't have to give actual art critique,” I said softly.
“I feel like I do. The contestants are all staring at me,” he replied with a wink at me. He moved to the next cookie and paused. “This one looks very professional.”
Lucy leaned in to see which one he meant. “That one is mine.”
He froze. “Oh.”
The room went quiet for half a beat. Then the bride laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Of course it is Lucy’s. That feels right.”
“You can pick someone else,” I told him.
He shook his head. “No. It is the most polished. That’s the truth.”
Lucy placed a hand over her heart. “I would like to thank my sister for teaching me everything I know, and also Braxtonfor his excellent judgment. Plus the fact that I no longer have to scramble to find a surprise prize.”
The bridesmaids protested playfully until Lucy promised them a batch of my cinnamon rolls. They seemed satisfied with that compromise. Braxton looked mildly overwhelmed but pleased.
“Thank you for participating in this fair and unbiased process,” Lucy said.
