The Bake-Off

by Beth Kendrick

  “They seem nice.”

  “Who cares if they’re nice?” Linnie winced at the derision in his tone. “A hundred grand is on the line and you’re worried about who’s nice? Those two are rank amateurs who don’t know a croque monsieur from a croquembouche. They stand around all day bickering about oven temperature, but they can’t even roll out a piecrust properly. They don’t belong in this competition, and I am not the only one who’s noticed. We both need to keep a close eye on room twenty-six twenty-eight and find out what they’re hiding.”

  Amy looked like she was mid–heart attack. Linnie gave her a little shake to get her to start breathing again. She kept waiting for their bodies to betray them with a sneeze, a hiccup, a twitch, but they both maintained total silence, and Ty just kept on yammering.

  “So get with the program,” he finished. “I mean it. If we lose again this year, it’s on you.”

  “Second place is hardly losing,” Tai said.

  “Yes, it is. Second place is first loser.” He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t even raising his voice, but his bitterness came through loud and clear. “Second place might be good enough for you, but not for me. We had it in the bag last year, we had everything lined up and locked down with the judges, and you still managed to screw it up. You owe me a hundred thousand dollars, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Tai mumbled something in response but Linnie couldn’t make out the words. She was too busy replaying Ty’s invective in her head.

  Second place is first loser. In those five angry words, he had summed up Linnie’s lifetime motto, the subliminal message that had been running through her brain on a continuous loop for the last twenty years. There was first place, and then there was failure. No middle ground. When her internal voice said this, it sounded reasonable, even noble. But to hear someone else say it aloud . . . well, he sounded like a draconian, abusive asshole.

  “Just hold it together for twenty-four more hours,” Ty said. “I’ve told you a million times, I’ve got this all figured out. I ran a statistical model on the winning dishes for the past twenty years, and the judges gravitate to chocolate and caramel. Stop arguing and start working with me, and we’ll be fine.”

  “But—”

  “What did I just say?” He sighed as if showing superhuman patience and restraint. “We’re a good team, but you need to trust me. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” Tai’s voice had flattened into a monotone.

  “Good.” There was a quick smacking sound as they exchanged a kiss. “Now let’s get this photo shoot over with.”

  The second their footsteps retreated into the adjacent room, Amy and Linnie grabbed their clothes and bags and escaped out the studio door. Linnie purposely let the door slam behind them.

  “Why did you do that?” Amy asked as they changed into their street clothes in a restroom in the bookstore on the building’s ground floor. “Now they’re going to know somebody heard them.”

  “Good. I want them to know. Let them wonder who heard what. Let them lose a little sleep over it.”

  Amy collected the outfits they’d worn for the shoot and folded them neatly. “We have to return these to Ori, you know.”

  “I can’t believe that half-wit ran the stats to find commonalities in all the winning recipes.” Linnie was a little peeved she hadn’t thought of it herself. “Who would’ve guessed he could operate a calculator, let alone a computer program?”

  “Those two are so weird. At first I thought they were Ozzie and Harriet, then I thought they were Bonnie and Clyde, and now it’s like they’re, uh . . .” Amy groped for an appropriate cultural reference. “Heidi and Spencer?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind.”

  When they got back to the hotel suite, Grammy was perched on the sofa in her customary cashmere and pearls, flipping through the latest issue of Food & Wine magazine. “How was the photo shoot? My goodness, you two look lovely.”

  She picked up the mug of herbal tea resting on a coaster on the end table. “Linnie, I just got off the phone with Cam. He’d like you to call him back at your earliest convenience.”

  “What is up with everybody intercepting all my phone calls?” Linnie demanded, working herself up into an indignant lather. “I have a right to privacy, you know.”

  “He seems like a very well-mannered young man,” Grammy Syl said. “So hospitable and attentive.”

  “He’s handsome, too,” Amy added helpfully. “Plus, he’s loaded and apparently quite a good kisser.”

  “I approve,” Grammy announced.

  “Gee, I’m so glad. Now, can you both please leave me alone?”

  “Hey.” Amy unwrapped her scarf and peeled off her jacket. “It’s not freezing cold in here anymore.”

  Linnie flexed her fingers, waiting for the icy tingling to set in. But nothing happened. In fact, standing here in her sweater and coat, she was actually a little too warm.

  “Oh yes, there was a tiny glitch with the air-conditioning, but I got it fixed.” Grammy picked up the room service menu and started perusing the brunch specials.

  “How did you do that?” Linnie asked. “Did you have to call in an exorcist? A meteorologist?”

  “Don’t be silly, lamb. I just asked your boyfriend to send up another maintenance crew, and when they had trouble, I called Hal from the senior center. Hal used to work for NASA—he can fix anything. Or, at least, he could before the arthritis set in. Anyway, I put Hal on the phone with the repairmen and he talked them through it. They had it fixed in a trice. Cam offered to hire him as a consultant.”

  “You’re a superhero,” Amy said. “Admit it. As soon as we leave, you bust out your cape and a unitard and fight for justice and the American way.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, darling.” Grammy winked. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a unitard.”

  “Hang on.” Linnie’s attention had been snagged earlier in the conversation. “How long were you and Cam on the phone, anyway?”

  “Oh, just a few minutes.”

  “Uh-huh. And by the way, he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I know.” Grammy crossed her ankles. “That’s how you young girls do things today, always playing the field. Though, if I may offer a word of advice—”

  “You may not.”

  “Mind your tongue, Vasylina. There’s no need to get snippy.”

  “Yeah, lay off Grammy Syl,” Amy chimed in. “She’s had a long day fighting crime.”

  “Now, then.” Grammy picked up the phone again. “Who wants pancakes?”

  “I do, I do.” Amy bounced on the sofa cushion. “Make mine blueberry, please!”

  “I’ll just have oatmeal,” Linnie said.

  “Nonsense.” Grammy started dialing. “You’ll have Belgian waffles and you’ll enjoy them. And please don’t forget to return Cam’s call. I gave him my word.”

  Linnie surrendered and slipped into the bedroom. She flipped open her phone, then realized she didn’t have Cam’s cell number. So she stuck her head back into the sitting room, where Amy was recounting her triumphant foray into food styling.

  “Hey, Grammy? Did Mr. Manners happen to leave his personal contact information?”

  “You know, dearest, I don’t believe he did. Just call down to the front desk, and they’ll connect you.”

  “They’re not going to put some random guest through to the owner of the hotel chain.”

  “Call them,” Grammy commanded.

  Linnie closed the door and did as she was told. “Hi. This is Linnie Bialek in room twenty-six twenty-eight. Is there any way you could get me in touch with Mr. McMillan?” She waited for the operator to explain that Cam was in a meeting or to “accidentally” drop the call.

  “Your name again, please?”

  “Linnie Bialek.”

  The operator’s inflection never changed. “One moment, please.”

  Thirty seconds later, Cam’s voice came on the line. “Linnie. Good morning.”

  “Hi.” She paused, feel
ing awkward and adolescent. “I heard you and my grandmother had quite the dialogue.”

  He cleared his throat. “You’re probably wondering why I called.”

  “Oh, well, I guess. I mean, after last night, I sort of thought . . .” She’d sort of thought he’d called to shower her with compliments and ply her with poetry and beg to see her again, but it seemed rather immodest to come right out and say that.

  “I sat in on a very interesting staff meeting this morning,” he said. “Evidently there was a spate of vandalism in the back alley the other night.”

  Linnie sat down on the bed. “Vandalism, you say?”

  “Something about typographical errors.” His voice deepened with amusement. “Very seedy and sordid. The police got involved.”

  “Wow.” She reclined into the mound of pillows. “This city’s really going to hell in a handbasket.”

  “You’re a very complicated woman.”

  “I’m not complicated, just stubborn.” She sighed. “If you give me a bucket and a brush, I’ll be happy to go out there and scrub down the wall this afternoon.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “No, really, it’s the least I can do. The good news is, it should be pretty easy to get off, since it’s mascara. Waterproof mascara, I grant you, but—”

  “Hold on. You defaced my hotel wall with mascara?”

  “They didn’t mention that part?” She provided an abridged recounting of the night’s events. “At least my defacement was spelled correctly. I take no responsibility for the spray paint.”

  “I see.” For a moment, Cam was dumbstruck. “And you were arrested for vandalizing existing vandalism?”

  She picked at her cuticles. “Well, at first the officer was going to let me off with a warning. But I sort of forced his hand.”

  “I see. Do you have a long history of trouble with the law?”

  “No, and I can’t say I’m in a hurry to revisit the holding cell. Frankly, I found the amenities to be shockingly substandard.”

  Cam chuckled. “Worse than a twenty-dollar youth hostel?”

  “Well, maybe not that bad. By the way, thank you for getting the air conditioner fixed.”

  “Thank your grammy. She provided technical support for our repair crew. Good old Hal. He used to work for NASA, you know.”

  “Now you’re on a first-name basis with Hal, too?”

  “I think your grandmother has a little crush on him.”

  “What else did you discuss with my grandmother?” Linnie’s eyes narrowed as suspicions stirred. “Did she tell you why I came to New York?”

  “I assumed you were here for vacation. Is that not the case?”

  Before answering, Linnie composed a quick mental list of the pros and cons of divulging her participation in the Delicious Duet competition. Given that he now knew about her history of art fraud and vandalism, she could see no possible upside to adding baking fraud to the list of ethics violations. There would be plenty of time to disillusion him after at least one more night of steamy sex. Plus, what if she and Amy lost at the finals? The only thing more humiliating than losing was admitting your failure to someone else.

  Second place is first loser.

  “We’re kind of having a girls’ weekend,” she hedged. “Me, my sister, and Grammy Syl. Now, please, I insist on taking responsibility for my mistake. How much will it cost to have the graffiti removed?”

  “It’ll cost you one chess rematch. Tonight, my room, at midnight.”

  She wrapped the phone cord around her index finger. “Same terms as last night?”

  “Higher stakes. Double or nothing.”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what that would entail, and she couldn’t wait to find out. “You’re on.”

  Then she disconnected the call and used her cell phone to dial the pawnshop in Vegas, the number for which she had now memorized. “Hi, this is Linnie Bialek. Yes, again. I’m calling to make sure that platinum-and-diamond brooch is still there.”

  When she returned to the sitting room, Amy was tipping the room service waiter while Grammy arranged a trio of plates heaped with carbs, butter, and bacon on the coffee table.

  “We’re not eating at the dining room table?” she asked. Usually, Grammy was a stickler for napkin-on-your-lap, elbows-off-the-table propriety at mealtimes.

  “I’d prefer to eat out here, if it’s all the same to you. I want to watch my show.”

  Linnie glanced at the television screen, where a Rhodesian ridgeback was systematically devouring a dining room set. “What is this, anyway?”

  “Dog Whisperer,” Grammy said. “I watch it every day.”

  “But you don’t have a dog,” Linnie said.

  “I know, dearest. This way I don’t have to deal with shedding or barking or chewed-up chair legs.”

  “She likes Supernanny, too,” Amy said, “but I can’t watch more than ten minutes of it now that I have kids. All those toddler tantrums and parental breakdowns hit too close to home.”

  “Oh, pish-tosh. Chloe and Ben are nothing like the brawling hellions on that show.”

  “Ha. Come over some afternoon when they’ve missed their nap.” Amy folded a strip of bacon into her mouth. “So, how’s your boyfriend?”

  Linnie refused to take the bait this time. “He’s quite well. And while we’re on the topic of boyfriends, Grammy, what’s the deal with you and Hal?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re referring to.”

  “You’ve got a thing for the NASA guy?” Amy clasped her hands together as though this were the cutest thing she’d ever heard. “You should go for it. Grandpa died, what? Twenty years ago? Twenty-five? It’s time to move on.”

  “I have moved on. There’s more to life than finding a man, darling.” Grammy gasped and raised a hand to her cheek. “Oh goodness.”

  “What’s wrong?” Linnie and Amy both raced to her side.

  “This side of my face has gone numb.” Grammy announced this with mild annoyance, as though she were remarking on a weather forecast for rain. “I suppose I’d better call my neurologist.”

  Linnie clicked off the TV and demanded, “Since when do you have a neurologist?”

  Grammy pursed her lips, then rolled her eyes and sighed the same way Linnie herself often did. “Well, girls, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it. I’ve got a brain aneurysm. Three aneurysms, actually.”

  Amy and Linnie looked at each other, then looked at Grammy, then looked back at each other. Those three short sentences provided so much to process that Linnie couldn’t string together a coherent thought, much less a sentence.

  Grammy Syl took the stunned silence as a cue to keep on talking. “I’ve put off telling you because I didn’t want you to worry. Or look at me like a fragile, frail old biddy, the way you are right now.”

  Linnie’s arm was still angled straight out from her body, her hand clutching the TV remote.

  “Oh, Grammy.” Amy put her arm around the older woman. “How long have you known about this?”

  “Only a few months.”

  “A few months?” Linnie finally recovered her voice and, along with it, a spark of anger. “And we’re just finding out now? If I had a bunch of brain aneurysms, wouldn’t you demand to know about it?”

  “Naturally. But I’m an adult and you’re a child.”

  “I’m twenty-eight and she’s thirty-one,” Linnie pointed out.

  Grammy Syl nodded. “Babies. You girls focus on your baking and let me take care of everything else.” She gave Amy a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you fret, darlings. I’ll be just fine.”

  “ ‘Don’t fret’?” Linnie flung the remote onto the carpet. “You have three brain aneurysms.”

  “What does that mean, anyway?” Amy asked.

  “It means she needs to get into surgery, stat,” Linnie said. “Honestly, Grammy, I can’t believe that instead of taking care of yourself, you came to New York to babysit us. Does Dad know a
bout all this?”

  “Not yet. And I’m not going to have surgery.” Grammy got to her feet with assistance from Amy, then pulled a small floral address book out of her purse. “They can’t operate.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?” Amy demanded.

  “My doctors. They say because of my age and my health and the location of the aneurysms, I probably wouldn’t make it through the operation. How did they put it? The risks outweigh the potential benefits.”

  “But brain aneurysms—can’t you die from that?” Amy grew more agitated with every passing second.

  Grammy gave up. Linnie could see it in the sloping of her shoulders and the sudden weariness in her eyes. She gave up trying to bolster them with cheer and false confidence and gave them a glimpse of her pain and uncertainty. “Well, let’s face it: We’re all going to die sooner or later.”

  This just incensed Amy further. Linnie had never seen her mellow, upbeat sister yell at anyone like this. “So you’re just going to sit around doing nothing?”

  Grammy let her yell. “I’m having brunch with my granddaughters and watching Dog Whisperer. I’d hardly call that nothing.”

  Linnie didn’t know how to navigate these dark emotional eddies. All she could do was try to fix the problem. “We’ll find a better doctor. We’ll get a second opinion.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Grammy sat down again. “I’ve gotten third, fourth, fifth opinions. It is what it is.”

  “Then what are they doing for you?” Linnie persisted. “What’s the prognosis?”

  “I’ll be fine until I’m not fine. That’s all we really know for sure. Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I really should make that phone call.”

  “Screw your neurologist.” Since everyone else had abdicated their normal roles, Linnie took charge. “Half of your face is numb. We’re going to the emergency room.” She turned to Amy. “Call down to the front desk and tell them to call an ambulance.”

  “An ambulance won’t be necessary. Dr. Hilman told me that dizziness and numbness are to be expected.”

  “Fine, then we’ll take a cab. But we’re going.” She collected everyone’s coats and made sure Grammy had her insurance card and a complete list of current medications. Amy and Grammy both followed her orders and seemed almost relieved to be bossed. “That elevator had better be working, is all I have to say.”