“The cheesecake won’t set right if the ingredients are cold,” she told me. “The cream cheese needs to be slightly cooler than body temperature. If you want to help, I can shove these down your pants.”
“I don’t think it would fit,” I shot back.
The baker scowled at me. “You need to help.”
I ignored her and pulled out my phone. I was pretending to answer emails, but really I was scheming.
Maybe Dana wouldn’t be strict enough on the rules. What if they used a technicality to say that I had helped and didn’t disqualify us? I needed to ensure that we would lose. And that meant sabotage.
The ingredients needed to be warm, or the cake would be ruined? I was going to make sure it was all cold.
I waited until the last minute, when Merrie had measured out all the ingredients and was at the stove stirring her chocolate sauce and cranberry sauce. The cream cheese and sugar were in the mixing bowl, the paddle stirring slowly, turning into a silky-smooth texture. I made sure she wasn’t looking then tipped in a handful of snow. For good measure, I added some snow to the milk and sour cream mixture in the large glass measuring cup.
I glanced at the stand mixer bowl. The mixture seemed a little lumpy. I frowned. Would Merrie notice?
“Are you here to help?” Merrie asked, coming over with the chocolate sauce.
I needed to distract her.
“Just thinking about how a better businesswoman would have opened up a Christmas-themed café,” I said as she glared at me. That meant she wasn’t focusing on the cheesecake mixture. She tipped in the milk and sour cream as the stand mixer whirred. “Seems like people serving refreshments are making a killing at the Christmas market.”
Merrie took out a spatula and scraped the sides of the bowl. She frowned.
Shit, was she going to notice?
“Not to mention,” I added hastily, “I saw three stalls selling the same ornaments you were.”
“What?”
“For about a third of the price.”
She cracked three eggs in the bowl one-handed. The batter looked a little grainy.
Perfect.
“I don’t believe you,” Merrie said, but the concern in her eyes told me that she did.
“Economics bends for no one,” I said in her ear as she scooped flour into the stand mixer.
“Just give up,” I coaxed. “You don’t have to pay me a dime in rent. I won’t sue you or even file for an eviction. Just pack up all your Christmas junk, get off my property, and go back to Manhattan.”
And more importantly, get out of my life.
13
Merrie
Matt is such a dick, I fumed as I finished my batter. It did not look like a nice smooth cheesecake batter.
It’s Matt. He and his bad attitude ruined my batter.
What was worse was that I didn’t have time to fix it. I had to make the cranberry chocolate truffles meant to go inside the cake. I had never made this recipe before. But it seemed like a good idea. Make chocolate truffles filled with cranberry, then every slice of cheesecake would have a little chocolate surprise.
Seemed good in theory. But now my cheesecake batter was out of sorts, and I probably hadn’t left myself enough time to ensure the chocolate was cooled all the way.
Just keep going. You need to win.
No, I reminded myself,you just need to not lose.
