“Just remember you’re not alone.” He took my hand and walked me into the gym. Carter didn’t hold it for long. It seemed like a comforting gesture to get me across the threshold.
Nerves fluttered in my chest but then we ran into Jake and Lila.
“What do you think?” Jake asked, looking around at all the signs with my farm’s name on them. “When Carter told me the idea, I thought it was a slam dunk.”
Lila smiled and grabbed my hands with excitement. “It’s so awesome. People are talking. Saying good things,” she added quickly.
“I’m still not even sure exactly what sponsoring this means, aside from putting up signs and taking credit,” I said.
Carter chuckled. “It means there’s cash prizes for the winners of each category, with an extra prize for the most popular dessert overall.”
Lila’s eyes widened. “If I had known there was cash involved, I would have baked my famous rhubarb pie.”
Jake smiled and slung an arm around his wife. “Honey, it’s famous for how bad it is.”
She grinned back at him. “So what? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”
CHAPTER 18
CARTER
Iwas able to hang out with Shelby, Lila, and Jake for a few minutes before Mrs. Presley swooped in and grabbed me. Judging was going to start soon, but that would happen behind a curtain apparently, so no one interfered or tried to sway the judges one way or another. The bake-off was serious business in Ferris apparently.
Mrs. Presley slapped a nametag onto my chest, naming me asJudge Carter. I didn’t know if Mrs. Presley had specifically left my last name off it, but I appreciated it either way. People in this town had varying reactions when they found out who I was and who I worked for. Some didn’t care, some were too polite to tell me what they really thought, and guys like Moe Randall, the pig farmer, had sicced his hogs on me.
Things would be way less complicated if I stayed semi-anonymous.
Before Mrs. Presley took me back behind the privacy curtain to begin judging, she walked me around the rows of tables that formed aisles in the gym. Each row was a different category—pies, cakes, pastries, cookies, and a free-for-all category where bakers could be as creative as they wanted.
Each contestant had split up their entries into portions for the judges to taste and samples for the other guests to try out. Then people would vote on their favorites for the most popular award.
I didn’t taste any of the samples we passed by, but it looked like I was in for a treat when I finally got to judging. Most of the baked goods on display looked professional, good enough to be served in an upscale patisserie in Los Angeles that catered to the ultra wealthy. No wonder people in Ferris took the competition so seriously. The bakers went all out and there was a lot of skill on display.
While Mrs. Presley walked me through everything, I only half listened. Shelby was walking around the tables with Lila and Jake, tasting samples, talking, and laughing. From time to time, we caught each other’s eye. I would smile at her and she would make faces at me, but I was pretty sure it was just to hide her own smile.
I also noticed several townspeople go up and talk to her, and to my relief, none of them seemed angry or shitty. They seemed thankful about the sponsorship, or at the very least, Shelby seemed to stand up straighter after each interaction. Like it lifted her spirits instead of crushing them.
I couldn’t call the sponsorship plan a success just yet, but I did overhear some chatting people talking about the “poor Whitaker kids” who were left to pick up the pieces after their parents ran off. That had to be a good sign.
Finally, Mrs. Presley said it was time for us to head to the back, and as I followed her, I noticed some new arrivals at the entrance. It looked like a camera crew, probably from the local news, although they looked out of place.
But hey, Shelby would get great publicity if the news mentioned Granny’s Acre Farm’s sponsorship of the event. I wasfeeling pretty proud of myself as I went behind the curtain. I had certainly earned myself some desserts.
The next half hour was an endless stream of deliciousness. Everything tasted like heaven and I had no idea how I was supposed to judge when I loved it all.
My phone buzzed in my pocket but I ignored it. Nothing was more important than the cake category I was tearing through. Back in LA, in my real life, I rarely ate sweets of any kind. For one thing, I liked to stay in shape, but also, I was so busy I rarely had time to indulge in decadent treats like this. I usually grabbed a quick bite of something and kept plowing through my workday.
Here at the bake-off, I felt like I was making up for lost time, eating all the cake and cookies and everything I had missed out on for the past decade. But that was kind of Ferris in a nutshell. Being here, I had experienced so many things my real life was missing. Little joys and connections that made life worth living.
A voice in my head kept asking a forbidden question. Did I even want to go back to that old life in LA? Obviously, I would go back. But I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. I liked the speed of life in Ferris.
I wondered if there was a way to slow down a bit when I got back. What was the point of having all these employees if I couldn’t delegate some of the workload to them?
I liked working hard and leading by example, but that nonstop work was starting to feel like I was walking someone else’s path. Chasing someone else’s dream. Ever since my father had forced me to work for Allory, I had stopped asking myself what I wanted and what I actually thought was important in life.
I had money already, a house, two vacation properties, and half a dozen cars I barely had time to drive. Currently, I was trying to rehabilitate the company’s image, which my father haddamaged with his ruthlessness. That meant I was cleaning up his mess instead of picking my own goals and aiming for them.
The question was what those goals were. What did success look like going forward? After I finished up in Ferris, then what was the next mountain for me to climb? More money? More business deals? Or did I need to start thinking about personal accomplishments?
