I know what that email said.
“Sure,” I say, my smile faltering. “I just meant I might have chosen something different if I’d realized the time. But it’s fine. I’m going to get it done and it’s going to be wonderful. Just you wait.”
“Good luck,” Garrett says in a low voice.
Magnolia smiles wide. “Just keep your pretty little head down and do your best. I’m sure it’ll all come together, sugar.”
Judy and Theo give me two thumbs up as they move on to the contestants behind me.
I flip between checking the oven and stirring the curd, whispering encouragement to myself like I’m directing a tiny, flour-covered orchestra. Time flies faster than I expect, but the adrenaline makes me laugh.
Half at myself, half at the ridiculousness of trying to do five things at once and still hoping it all turns out perfect.
When I pull my pastries from the oven, they’re perfectly golden brown and puffy. I dance in place as I set them on the cooling rack. No… these babies need to cool as fast as possible, so into the freezer they go.
“Bakers, you have ten minutes left!” Theo calls from the front of the tent.
It’s going to be tight, but I mightjustmake it.
I spend the next five minutes filling my piping bags with pastry cream and lemon curd, readying myself for the final sprint. I pull my puffs from the freezer; the outsides don’t feel too warm, and hope blossoms in my chest.
Holy crap! I’m actually going to pull this off.
After filling my pastries, I spoon the blueberry compote over the top, doing my best to keep it aesthetic rather than messy.
Just as I finish the final crème puff, Judy calls out, “Bakers, your time is up! Please step away from your bakes!”
A bead of sweat trails down my cheek as I take the first full breath since starting. I glance down—and my heart sinks.
A swirling yellow-and-milky liquid is pooling at the bottom of the presentation tray. Those puffs needed another ten minutes in the freezer to fully cool.
Crap!
One by one, we’re called to the front to present our personality signatures. I can’t hear the feedback over the heavy thud of my heartbeat, knowing I’ve failed. When my name is called, I pick up my disaster and carry it forward.
The response is exactly what I expect: mortification from Judy and Theo, sympathy from Magnolia, and a self-satisfied smirk from Garrett. Nerves surge through me, but I smile anyway.
“Would you believe me if I told you I was aiming for a crème anglaise?” A few laughs ripple behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Alex lower his gaze, shaking his head.
“Nice try,” Garrett says, though he cracks a smile.
“Well, it’s obvious there was an issue with timing,” Magnolia says gently, “but let’s see how it tastes. I’ve been smelling all that sweet, citrusy goodness all day, and my mouth is watering.”
The judges each take a now-empty, soggy crème puff, dip it into the creamy lemon filling, and bring it to their mouths. They chew with intention, studying the flavors and textures.
Magnolia’s eyes flutter closed, and she smiles. “Your flavors are divine, my dear. They’re perfectly balanced. Not too sweet, not too tart.”
“And the parts that weren’t bogged down by liquid are really well done,” Garrett adds, tossing the puff back onto the tray. “It’s unfortunate that timing got away from you.”
The walk of shame back to my station feels like the longest walk of my life. My heart races with every step. I keep my eyes on my feet, too embarrassed to look at anyone else.
Plopping onto the stool at my disaster of a station, I drop my head into my hands and just breathe. The disappointment sits heavy in my chest, and I let it settle there for a moment. I’ve always believed feelings need their time before you send them on their way.
Okay, so with that truly atrocious bake out of the way, it can only get better from here.
Maybe this is the universe ripping off the Band-Aid early—getting the mess and the mistakes out so the good stuff can come next. Maybe this is just the part where things wobble before they take off in the right direction.
I lift my head, wipe my palms down my apron, and straighten my spine.
