I told her about Junie Blair coming in and canceling her order for the two hundred cookies because of Connor’s offer of the champagne-filled chocolates. The more I talked, the wider Ella’s eyes got.
“Are you kidding me? Why, that absolute creep!” Ella jerked on the strings of her apron in her agitation, tying it tighter than normal. “Keep going. Tell me more. I heard the exchange was good and you stood up for yourself. Did you really throw candy in his face?”
My face heated up as I recalled what had happened. It may have caused all sorts of gossip, but it probably wasn’t my proudest moment. “Nope. It was ice cream.”
Ella looked surprised for a moment. “Ice cream?”
“Mint chocolate chip, to be exact.”
She let out a wild whoop of approval. “Even better! Go on. I want to hear it all. Tell me it dripped.”
I grinned, and for once, it felt really good to remember me losing control.
“Dripped everywhere. Big time. It was awesome.”
As we rolled out dough for the small batch of cinnamon rolls, I told her everything that had happened during my sudden visit to The Sweet Shoppe. By the time I was finished, Ella was wiping tears from her eyes as she giggled and held her side.
“I haven’t laughed that long in forever.” She drew in a deep breath before slowly releasing it. “I hope someone got a video of the whole thing.”
“Just what I’d need,” I grumbled. “Going viral on YouTube.”
“Hey, any publicity can be good publicity,” Ella said, then leaned against the counter and looked at me. “Let’s be honest, now. How sure are you that you can win this thing?”
I bit my lip. “You know I can’t beat him, Ella.” It was a painful admission, and I dropped the rolling pin onto the counter and winced as it made a loud noise. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Ella scrunched up her nose and shook her head. “You weren’t thinking, Ivy. You werefeeling. There’s a huge difference. And win or lose, I’m proud of you.”
“You are?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“Heck, yeah, I am! You finally stood up for yourself when it came to how people treat you.” She grinned. “Granted, when you blew, you blew upbig. With mint chocolate chip ice cream! But that’s okay. You were due for a big one.”
I winced. “I wonder if my dad heard about the exchange?” I gasped. “Or if he heard about me throwing ice cream on Connor? I hadn’t thought of that.”
Still grinning, Ella nodded. “Oh, I’m sure your dad knew two seconds after it happened. That man has friends everywhere in Jingle Junction, you know that.”
I groaned at the thought, but she was probably right. Dad had ties and friends all over town. Of course, he knew. So why hadn’t he said anything to me yet?
Word must have gotten around all over town because ten minutes hadn’t passed from the time I flipped the sign to OPEN that morning to when we had our first customer. But while the nosy older lady watched me bag up her raspberry scone, all she wanted to talk about was the bet. It went on like that all morning. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I excused myself to finish working on the piped royal lace decorations for Junie’s wedding cake, leaving Ella to handle the customers.
The work made me happy, and I lost myself in the delicate and fragile swirls and arches, because they demanded total concentration. That was exactly the sort of task I needed to distract myself. Ella was happy chatting with customers, and I got some work done, a win-win.
Besides, if I was going to kick Connor’s butt in this bet, as I had so elegantly informed him, I needed to be in top form.
Wait. I paused in my piping, a bit of a thrill stirring past the knots I was used to in my stomach. Was I really thinking maybe Icouldtake the prize? It meant I had to be spot-on. Precise and focused.
I needed to beperfect. Better than I’d ever been before. And while I’d been planning on my best work, of course, thanks to my hopes for social media attention, this bet amped things up to a whole new level.
I doubled down on my determination, clapped on my over-the-ear headphones, and cranked up Oingo Boingo, with Bananarama and then Cindi Lauper lined up next.
Fred Astaire was far too smooth for the way I was feeling.
I’ve heard people talk about getting ‘into the zone’ when jogging or making art or such. Apparently, my version of that is to be so focused on making something beautiful and tasty that the rest of the world kind of faded away as I spent several hours creating delicate and delicious bits of sugar lace for the towering wedding cake I was making. Scroll after swirl after frond-like tendrils were carefully piped onto parchment, then left to dry into fragile beauty.
When my power music changed again, I finally stood up and took stock of the plethora of sheet pans and racks around me. I had to laugh at myself a bit, because I’d gonewayover the top on this one. Junie had paid for a certain amount of decorations, and I’d made so many it would probably cover the entire cake with lacy perfection.
But theywereperfection. Even I had to admit I’d outdone myself. Maybe this challenge had been a good thing after all.
That’s what Connor MacDowell gets for messing with me.
