“Of course! Also, customers get a free cookie.”
“Even better,” she said, taking a snowman.
After Bettina had leftwith not just one ornament but a whole box of them, I leaned against the counter and took out my phone.
“She’s well known in town,” Olivia reminded me. “She’ll spread the word about your shop.”
“I can’t pay rent with a good word,” I replied. “Nor can I buy sugar and flour. My stock is running low, and I’m only going to survive this Christmas season with cookies. Look! There are tons of jobs listed. I just need to find one with morning hours so I can keep the shop open at night.”
“Funny you should say that…”
“I’m just so annoyed that this whole situation is ruining Christmas for me,” I complained as I scrolled through the job listing on the TradeMe app.
“There’s a great solution…”
I frowned at my phone. “Ugh. I don’t want to spend Christmas being a substitute teacher or a receptionist. Next.”
Olivia was practically jumping up and down.
“Ask and the Christmas market shall grant your wish!” She handed me a flyer.
“A bake-off?”
“Not just a bake-off but THEGreat Christmas Bake-Off.”
My eyes bugged out. “But you have to audition for that months in advance.”
That was what had spurred my delusions into starting the business in the first place. I had wanted to audition forTheGreat Christmas Bake-Off, but my terrible boss would not give me time off. I had finally rage quit—in hindsight a bad idea because I couldn’t collect unemployment.
“This is meant to be! It’s in Harrogate this year,” Olivia said, pointing at the flyer excitedly. “They have one wildcard spot open for locals. With your sugar cookie recipe, you will for sure win. Plus, they film in the mornings for the daylight. You can work in the shop at night.”
I skimmed the flyer. Olivia flipped it over in my hand
“Look at that.” She pointed to the line that stated:Grand prize, two hundred thousand dollars.
“That’s what you get if you win.”
“I don’t know if I can win this competition,” I said, chewing on my lip. I had watched the previous seasons religiously, and I knew what caliber of desserts the judges were expecting. Sure, I used baking as an unhealthy coping method when I was stressed, which lately was always. But a bake-off? In front of not just a live audience but also broadcast on TV?
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I should focus on my shop.”
“It’s just a little insurance,” Olivia coaxed.
I looked around my shop. It was in an old historic building. The high ceilings were finished with stamped tin. With the exposed brick walls and the custom wood display boards that held the glittering Christmas ornaments I had spent the last few months carefully curating and splurged way too much money on, the shop was my dream come true. It looked like an old-world ornament shop, like Santa could come out of the back at any moment.
Did any of it matter now?
You’re not giving up. This is just a little side hustle. Besides, you probably won’t make it through.
I blew out a breath.
“Okay, I’ll enter.”
My friend squealed. “Good, because I already put your name in the hat.” She hugged me. “You’re going to win. I know it!”
“Oh my gosh, what am I going to do with all that money?” I said, already daydreaming about my winnings. I did a few quick calculations. My dreams didn’t go far.
“Once I pay off all my debts, I’ll have a little left over to move to South Dakota.”
