“I helped him win.”
“Did you though?” Amber said. “You what, organized a half-cracked winter festival, and you think that was enough to win him the contest? Honestly, Holly, you are so naïve. You always were. Living in your Christmas fantasyland, watching your Hallmark movies, reading your holiday romance novels in the middle of August. Men like him don’t want girls like you.”
“They don’t want girls like you either!” I shot back, hurt.
“I know,” Amber said nastily. “And if I can’t have him, I’m going to make sure no one can.”
*
“Welcometo the final episode ofThe Great Christmas Bake-Off!” Anastasia announced. “For those of you watching on Christmas Eve when this airs, Merry Christmas from everyone here at the Great Christmas Bake-Off. We hope you're inspired by these amazing Christmas desserts.”
Owen sat, back straight, at the judges’ table. I still felt bad for getting snippy over brunch yesterday. But seeing Owen had given me the flash of inspiration I needed. I was going to make a dessert inspired by the Christmas lights Owen had taken me to see after the gala.
I didn’t want to do something hokey like make cupcakes festooned with icing lights, though I was definitely going to do that whenever I got a chance to host another holiday party—which, since I was going to have to move out of the penthouse today, might be Nevuary.
No, I was going to bake something very delicate and light, with little bits of spun sugar. It was going to float in a sugar crystal lattice. The lattice was going to be a three-dimensional snowflake, and when someone looked at it from a certain angle, it would look like a house. Otherwise it was a beautiful form to hold morsels of little tarts and custards and tastes of sauces or a chocolate truffle. Inside, I was going to put tasty bites.
I made the lattices first, since I knew they needed time, and I didn’t want to rush and break anything. Because the sugar needed to be clear and icy, I didn’t heat it up too much. It took some time to carefully cut out all the little pieces and glue them together with melted sugar. The pieces of sugar were faceted like a diamond so that they caught the light. The dish should sparkle like fresh snow.
When I was done, I had four perfect snowflakes. I carefully cemented them to the plate with bits of white chocolate to hold them down. Then I made the decorations. There would be a mix of flavors and textures along with bright pops of color for visual interest. I made a bright-red hibiscus reduction, a glossy caramel, and a rich chocolate sauce and set them in the fridge. I could not have anything hot on the snowflakes.
Next I made several chocolate truffles and rolled some in purple lavender sugar and others in cinnamon and vanilla sugar. They glittered like gemstones. Next were salted caramels, the French sea salt providing the sparkle.
I also baked miniature chocolate, pear, and custard pastries. They were small, with thin, flaky crusts, and could be eaten in one bite. Finally, I candied flower petals and little pieces of fruit to provide even more sparkle and interest.
As I took my sauces out of the fridge, I looked at the clock. I had just enough time left to plate. I carefully composed each dish, sinking into the zone, making sure each snowflake was unique but still had a balance of flavors. I wanted them each to be different but not too different.
But not too different. Was that what was wrong with Owen and me? We were too different? He had the fancy cars and a huge company and lots of money. Maybe Amber and Sloane were right: maybe a man like Owen would never see a future with someone like me.
68
Owen
After the camera guys took the footage they needed of the judges watching the opening of the contest, I took one last look at Holly then stood up from the judges’ table.
Anu and Nick remained to watch, but I felt compelled to leave. Holly had seemed angry and annoyed that morning. Was it something I did? I’d thought I had a nice evening planned the night before, but maybe she would have rather gone to a play or a nice restaurant. Had I come across as cheap?
Maybe she was just nervous.
I went up to my office. The Christmas decorations Holly had hung up greeted me. I wished Holly was there too. That morning, she had said she wanted to go to Paris. Surely she didn’t mean it. But what if she did?
“Someone’s mopey,” Walker said, strolling in. He had a huge piece of cake in his hand.
“I’m surprised you can even fit through the door.”
“I went for a six-mile run today with a weight vest.”
“Right.”
“So I hear you’re hosting a holiday party.”
“Lies and rumors.”
“That’s not what my brother Liam says. Jack told everyone to be at your condo on the twenty-fourth. And let me just say that I am expecting a cookie with my face on it.”
*
Holly had seemednervous before the contest, which she normally never was. But when I returned to the studio later in the day, she seemed to be in her element. She was carefully plating her dish, balancing each element.
