Now that I had a way, no matter how small, that I could help Jack land a major business deal, I was dedicated to proving that I wasn't some freeloading thief like my cousin.
"You're the expert," Jack said. "I defer to you." He handed me his credit card. "Buy whatever you need for the muffins."
The next morning, I was back to the grind of the bake-off.
"Tomorrow is the Meet the In-Laws challenge," Anastasia told us as we assembled in the lobby to go shopping. "So, if you need anything special, now's the time to buy it."
Dana Holbrook walked into the lobby, her high-heeled shoes clicking on the polished floor. I wondered if she knew her cousin Mark had been here that weekend. I hadn't ever heard her talk about him, but then it wasn't as if she and I were besties.
"We're going to a different grocery store today," she said. "We have a deal with a high-end specialty food store. I'll be there to make sure we fulfill the terms of the marketing contract. There are also a few food brands that we need to showcase the labels on as well. I have outlined statements on these products, so if we ask one of you all to showcase a brand, act natural. We will redo shots until they look good."
"I've already met my in-laws," Hartleigh whispered to me. "Jack and I grew up together. I'm the girl next door."
"You're the insane person next door," Nina said.
I wasn't sure what I was going to make for the Meet the In-Laws challenge. It implied something remarkable but still conservative so as not to scare the parents you were trying to impress during the first meeting.
As we rode in a large SUV to the specialty grocery store, I wondered about Jack's parents. He didn't seem to like them. It was something to do with his sister. As I perused the store, pulling stuff not just for the contest but also for soup muffins, I wondered about Jack's family. I wanted Jack to have a happy Christmas. I vaguely remembered his talking about his childhood Christmases with fondness, and I wanted to put his family back together. I couldn't do that with my own family, but maybe I could do it with Jack's—bring them all together and show them the true spirit of Christmas.
The specialty grocery store was much nicer than the one the bake-off show usually took us to. And an added bonus was that there wouldn't be any Santas here to follow me around.
As I perused the high-end foods, I wondered, if I were meeting Jack's parents for the first time and had to bring a dessert, what would I make? Something with chocolate ganache, perhaps? Maybe with some sort of tart fruit? I was thinking little pieces of candied pears. I did like flourless chocolate cakes, but were they Christmassy enough? Maybe I could make a crepe cake. People liked those, and they did look impressive, but they weren't off-the-wall crazy. I couldn't use whipped cream, though. That was too pedestrian.
"Are you making a potato dessert?" Nina asked me, looking into my basket.
"Just working on a side project," I told her softly.
"For Jack?" she asked me.
"Yes, so shhh."
Hartleigh was watching us, clearly suspicious. I pulled Nina away to another aisle.
"I'm making him muffins," I told her. "I mean, most are for him to give as gifts."
"You're like a corporate wife without the ring," she said.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm just helping him out as a friend."
"I know you slept with him. You're basically his girlfriend!"
"He doesn't even know me." I snorted. "You might consider us friends with very generous benefits."
Nina snickered. "You don't need to win the bake-off if you win Jack."
"I don't think I'm going to win him," I said. "I think he's a little gun-shy with serious relationships thanks to everyone's favorite crazy stalker. I’m pretty sure the only reason he keeps me around is for my cooking and baking."
"I'm sure those ridiculously sexy outfits you post on Instagram also have a lot to do with it," she told me with a wink.
"I guess."
"I bet he's sending them to you himself," Nina said as we perused the cheeses. "Side note: You need to make a grilled cheese–and–tomato soup muffin." She loaded parmesan and cheddar cheese into my basket.
"Those would be good," I said, making a mental note to grab cans of imported tomatoes. "Jack would probably like it, too."
I directed the conversation back to my relationship with Jack. "I think part of it is the convenience. I'm right there in the tower; I'm easy. Maybe I'm too easy. My oma always said you should never give up the milk before making the man buy the cow, just give him a little dab of butter."
"That’s a very specific cow metaphor," Nina said.
