Sugar Rush

by Rachel Astor

  “Thanks,” Dulcie said, giving her a rare hug. “Thanks for everything.”

  Grams held Dulcie at arms length, like she was pleased with the way she’d turned out. “Now get the heck out there already; the judging is about to start.”

  “Okay,” Dulcie had said, turning toward the contestant area, wondering if Grams shooing her had more to do with the tears still teetering in her eyes than it did with Dulcie being late.

  Either way, Dulcie stood proudly at the table now behind her new creation, though she wished so many people weren’t staring. Okay, they weren’t all staring at her—there were nine other finalists, after all—but it sure felt like it in that moment.

  The room fell silent as the judges made their way in, the two men walking softly and the woman’s heels echoing ominously through the large space.

  Dulcie’s spot was at the end, on the far right side of the contestants. She would either be first, or last. She had no idea which would be better. Nick and his father stood near the middle of the table.

  When the judging started opposite her, making her last, she was certain it was destined to be her downfall. She tried to tell herself that was ridiculous, but her stomach rolled along anyway, as if on a runaway train where the tracks were about to break.

  The judges spent much more time with each sample than in the last round. At least a full ten minutes discussing each candy so quietly it was a miracle they even heard one another. Dulcie picked up only tiny murmurs as the contestants strained their ears, their eyeballs dancing among each judge.

  She glanced at Nick, who she could tell had been staring at her, and the temperature in the room increased by what felt like ten degrees as she looked away.

  Dulcie felt like throwing up. Everyone’s entries so far looked amazing, and the judges seemed to like every one. It was clear these contestants had gone back and made their creations even more spectacular after the preliminary round. Everything seemed so much prettier, more artisan, and probably more delicious.

  Her palms began to sweat.

  The judges would be to Nick’s station next. She noticed movement and glanced up to see Nick whisper something in his father’s ear, then walk out the back door of the room.

  “And what is yours called?” the short judge asked loudly as they stepped directly across from Mr. Sugarman.

  Nick’s dad pulled the cover from his entry. “The Lemon Illus…” He frowned, stopping short, then cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He looked sheepishly at the judges and leaned over to glance at the small card in front of the creation. “It’s the Dark Chocolate Watermelon Confection of Truth,” he said, his words fading away, along with his grin.

  “Oh God, not again,” the female judge said, just audibly enough for Dulcie to catch.

  The short judge took a tiny step backward while the taller man loosened his tie slightly.

  Dulcie tried not to react, but a tiny noise left her anyway. Nick had recreated her disaster…basically, he had forfeited the competition. By the look on Mr. Sugarman’s face, it was also Nick’s way of giving his father a taste of his own medicine.

  But why would Nick steal her Caramel Apple recipe only to do this?

  He had claimed all this time that he didn’t know anything…but that couldn’t be true.

  Except…

  Oh, God. Dulcie’s stomach clenched, suddenly struggling to hold down her lunch. She’d forgotten all about the night Mr. Sugarman had been at Candy Land. She closed her eyes, thinking. Could it be? She opened them again. Oh, no. It had been the night they first made the Salted Caramel Apple Enchantment, and he had been standing right near them at the counter. He could have easily snuck a candy or two into the pocket of his giant coat.

  But what about the expression on Nick’s face at the judging? It had been so cocky, so pleased with himself…

  Or maybe he had just been proud of his store and his father.

  Dulcie groaned, her stomach rolling now. Nick had been telling the truth.

  The female judge squinched up her nose and bit gingerly into the watermelon candy, chewing with her front teeth only. The short judge was already coughing. Dulcie was sure he coughed the actual chocolate into his handkerchief.

  Beads of sweat formed on Mr. Sugarman’s head, making it even shinier than usual under the bright lights. He looked around, as if searching for an escape. “I just… This wasn’t…,” he tried to say, but soon seemed to realize no words would fix it.

  The judges moved to the next finalist in record time; no discussion necessary.

  Dulcie breathed in and out, in and out…not wanting to think about all she had said to Nick.

  She had been such a bitch.

  Of course, given the circumstances and what she thought he’d done…

  Dulcie glanced around the room, searching for Nick. She had to find him, had to apologize.

  Grams was in the front row, more beautiful than Sophia Loren, sitting ever so still in her red dress and heels, but Nick was nowhere to be found.

  Dulcie shifted in her own heels, cursing again that she’d worn such uncomfortable shoes, but she wanted every advantage, and like it or not, a contestant’s appearance at one of these things was a direct reflection on her store.

  A few other finalists wore chef’s outfits, but that wasn’t Dulcie’s style; she’d never worn a chef’s coat in her life—since she wasn’t a chef and all. She knew a couple of the others wearing them weren’t, either, but she supposed everyone used whatever advantage they felt necessary, just like with her heels.

  Dulcie took a deep breath, vowing to find Nick the second the judging was over. Because now, it was too late. It was almost her turn.

  The judges had arrived at the finalist next to Dulcie, who unveiled his masterpiece. And what a masterpiece. Layer upon layer upon layer of varying shades of chocolate. The textures were varied as well, from a truffle-like filling, to fudge, to a harder, glossy coating on the top. There had to be thirty thin layers in each piece. A few people in the crowd gasped and Dulcie had to hold her mouth closed not to do the same. It was a work of art. It must have taken hours.

  Of course, her creation had, too, but suddenly she felt even less confident than before.

  The judges took their first bites, the woman judge’s eyes rolling into the back of her head. It had to taste as good as it looked. The contestant gave Dulcie a little smirk, which she wanted to slap right off his pretentious face (he was one of the chef coaters), then a second later an involuntary memory of a different smirk, one much more mischievous than cocky popped into her head.

  She closed her eyes, relishing the memory.

  Then Dulcie took a deep breath and concentrated on her feet. Perhaps the pain of her heels was a good thing after all. She shifted back and forth, reveling in the way the back of the shoe wore on her left foot, and the toes pinched on her right one.

  The distraction worked and in what seemed like an instant, the judges stood in front of her.

  She inhaled through her nose, hoping she didn’t look as shaky as she felt, though her hand gave it away as she reached for the cover.

  She closed her eyes and pulled it off.

  A gasp rose from the crowd, which may have been even louder than the one for the guy beside her. She was sure the short judge even let out a little sound of delight as well.

  Dulcie’s heart leaped.

  She glanced at her chocolate creations and as she’d hoped, the lights glinted off the delicate pink spun sugar that she’d painstakingly crafted and molded into perfect stained glass–like bowls to house the rest of the confection, a subtle rosewater truffle made with the finest quality white chocolate and the perfect subtlety of rose petals, which Dulcie boiled herself to get just the right infusion. The truffle was enrobed in a delicate light pink outer coating of white chocolate and topped with a handmade candied rose petal piece to top it off.

  It appeared almost organic, like it had been created by nature over time in a magical sun-streaked paradise of flowers.

>   “It’s called the Crystal Rose Truffle,” Dulcie said, trying her best not to let her voice shake.

  Under the lights, they came alive, the most sparkling, delicate creations even Dulcie had ever seen; certainly different from the rest of the dark colored confections lining the table.

  Whispers floated through the crowd as they strained to view Dulcie’s work.

  The judges marked for appearance as they discussed it, and Dulcie turned her head so one ear was toward them, but still, she couldn’t hear. Seriously, they must take courses in lip reading to even understand each other.

  Giving up on trying to hear, Dulcie glanced around, her eyes falling on the competitor beside her. He shifted away from her table, having leaned in to get a better look at the Crystal Rose Truffles. Now his mouth, which had mysteriously dropped open, slowly clamped shut.

  Dulcie tried to stop it, but a smirk, ever so tiny, found its way to her own lips as he cleared his throat and turned to stare straight ahead, pulling his shoulders back and crossing his hands in front of himself.

  The judges finally picked up her confections, carefully, like they were a delicate treasure—exactly what Dulcie had been going for—and each one smelled their sample. Dulcie hoped the scent of rosewater was just strong enough to make them feel like it was a beautiful spring day in the park.

  The judges glanced at one another with anticipation and bit into Dulcie’s creation at the same time. The female judge let out an involuntary noise of pleasure, which was almost a bit uncomfortable, to tell the truth. The male judges remained silent but they both had their eyes closed, savoring the flavors for as long as possible.

  Grams practically jumped up and down in the seating area.

  Whatever the outcome, Dulcie would never forget that moment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nick stood at the edge of the large room, ducking behind a pillar like he’d ducked behind the plant in the same hotel not so long ago. The first time, he’d been nervous about getting caught by his father or her grandmother, but this time his only worry, his only thought, was Dulcie.

  Nick had never witnessed anything more beautiful.

  Sure, the candies she’d made were spectacular—he’d never seen a food so magical, so delicate—but it was Dulcie who really shone. As the judges reacted to her work, she glowed.

  The rest of the contestants seemed to want to crawl under the table and cry. The moment the cover lifted, the entire row of faces had fallen. Nothing like Dulcie’s Crystal Rose Truffle had ever been in the competition before.

  They all knew who the winner would be. Everyone in the entire room seemed to know the competition was over…except for Dulcie.

  She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around what was right in front of her.

  Nick hadn’t needed to sabotage How Sweet It Is’s entry; Dulcie would have taken the competition all on her own. Still…he didn’t regret it for a second.

  “You did a nice thing for her, kid.” A voice from behind him made him jump.

  Nick turned and recoiled a little as he discovered Dulcie’s grandmother. “Oh, uh, Ms. Carter. I didn’t see you walk up. I’m…I’m really sorry for everything that happened.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I know you were the one who planned that whole watermelon thing, and anyone who can put that man in his place is a friend of mine.”

  Nick’s face reddened. He didn’t want to be known as the guy who betrayed a family member. “Er…that’s not really why I did it.”

  “I know, I know,” Ms. Carter said, smiling. “You did it for her.” She motioned with her head toward Dulcie.

  Nick cleared his throat. He wasn’t too comfortable that Ms. Carter had picked up on his feelings before he even got a chance to admit them to Dulcie.

  But Ms. Carter just chuckled at his silence. “Like I said, it was a good thing you did. Now let’s hope you fell a long way from the tree and you can keep it up.”

  Nick’s eyebrows knitted together. “What did happen between you and my father, anyway?” He shouldn’t be asking, but the curiosity proved to be too much.

  Ms. Carter shrugged. “Oh, you know how these things go. Passions gone awry. I guess sometimes you need to find out the hard way that business and romance don’t always mix, even if it is the candy business.” She smiled a little sadly.

  “He said you stole a recipe.”

  Ms. Carter laughed a little. “Yes, I suppose he did say that. And well, maybe it was partially his, but the original idea had been mine. We made it together, borne out of our passion for chocolate and for each other,” she said with a flourish.

  “If there was such passion, why did it matter who used the chocolate?”

  Ms. Carter tilted her head. “I suspect it was because of that very passion,” she said. “The thing with passion…the kind we had, it finds its way into everything. Into love, and into fights. It’s why the feud has gone on so long, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “When a relationship like that ends, a person still longs for the passion, even if it is…misdirected.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like maybe it’s something a person shouldn’t give up so easily.”

  Ms. Carter shook her head, chuckling as she walked away. She turned back for a moment. “Treat her right, Nick, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, a smile crossing his face.

  But his smile fell quickly when he saw Ms. Carter was in a beeline—heading straight in the direction of his father.

  Neither one of them seemed to realize they were on a collision course.

  “Evelyn!” Nick’s father said, jumping back as they nearly ran into each other. He was mopping his head with a tissue.

  Ms. Carter pulled her shoulders back, composing herself before speaking. “Ashton,” she said with a little nod. “That was an, er…interesting confection you had up there.”

  His father squinted at her; Nick knew the expression very well. It was the one his father wore when he was trying to come up with a great comeback. But then his expression changed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He swallowed. “Your grandaughter’s chocolate was beautiful,” he said.

  Nick raised his eyebrows. That was about the last thing he’d expected his father to say.

  Ms. Carter’s expression softened a little, too. “Thank you,” she said graciously.

  Nick wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if they were actually leaning slightly toward each other.

  “Well,” Nick’s dad said, clearing his throat. “It was nice seeing you, Evelyn.”

  “Nice seeing you, too, Ashton,” Ms. Carter said, watching his father walk away.

  Nick had been so busy watching the exchange that he realized too late what his father was walking toward.

  Him.

  “Hi, Dad,” he said, straightening.

  In the short distance from Ms. Carter to him, his father’s face had become redder than Nick had ever seen it. “Come with me now,” he said through gritted teeth. He yanked on Nick’s arm, pulling him into a small area off the side of the conference room.

  “I can’t believe you would stoop so low,” he said.

  “You stole a chocolate recipe from a girl’s dead mother and you think I’m the one stooping low?”

  “I did not raise you to shame the family this way,” his father said, as if he hadn’t heard a single word. “How could you put that disgrace of a chocolate on the table? Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? To your family’s reputation?”

  Nick shook his head. “That kind of guilt isn’t going to work on me, since you’re the only family I’ve got, and these last couple weeks have showed me a new side to you. A side I wish I had never seen. A side I can never forgive you for.”

  “Forgive me?” his father said, teetering on the edge of losing it. “I haven’t put shame on this family. I haven’t taken the steps to ruin our only source of income. Can you even imagine what this it going to do to our customer base?”

  “Actually, Dad
, you are the one who has put shame on this family. I’m just the one who called you on it.” He leaned in close, and for the first time, relished in the fact he was so much taller than his father. “And I don’t give a good God damn what the hell happens to you…or the family business.”

  Of course, Nick knew full well that How Sweet It Is would be just fine. Spending so much time with Dulcie at Candy Land Confections had made him realize that his father’s customer base wasn’t composed of the die-hard foodie blog people. No, they’d been catering to the mass customer base with their low prices for too long. Nothing was going to stop that automated ball from continuing to roll on.

  “After all I’ve done for you—” his father said.

  “All you’ve done for me?” Nick said, incredulous. He sucked in a deep, calming breath. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, I do. The business degree from Harvard; the condo and the car. But those were things you wanted for me, Dad. You made it so the only thing in life that would ever be good enough for you was for me to follow in your footsteps.” He stood straighter, taking a step toward the door.

  His father was stunned into silence for once, but Nick knew it wouldn’t last long.

  He had to say what he’d wanted to say for years, and he had to say it now.

  “But candy isn’t my thing, and I’m pretty sure deep down you always knew it. So that’s why—and I need to make it clear that I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time—I quit.”

  His father’s face went through a myriad of emotions, particularly because Nick hadn’t given him a chance to say his piece, and his father was not a man who tolerated not being heard.

  Which made it so much more satisfying when Nick walked right out the door.