Claws for Celebration

by Linda Reilly

  Lara watched for a minute or so, until the crowd parted and a smartly dressed man emerged. Blond and broad-shouldered, he strode into the cafeteria. Wearing a black wool overcoat, a Burberry scarf tucked around his neck, he could have stepped straight out of a high-end men’s fashion catalog. His gold-rimmed eyeglasses gave him an intellectual look, but his smile was a blend of intrigue and humor. At his side, a petite woman garbed in a burgundy cape walked close beside him. Really close. Beneath her knitted cloche, strands of pale blond hair curled around her carefully made-up face.

  The visitors paused and looked all around. Lara searched for Aunt Fran, who’d gotten wrapped up in a conversation at another table. She caught her aunt’s eye and waved. Aunt Fran excused herself, then made her way over to Lara’s table.

  “Well, he’s not George Clooney,” Lara said in a low voice, “but he’s not a bad substitute.”

  “Indeed.” Aunt Fran smiled and looked in the mystery man’s direction. “And it seems he’s headed our way.”

  What?

  Oh Lord, Aunt Fran was right. The man had pinned his gaze directly on Lara and was moving toward her table. Before she could even smooth her hair, he was standing before her.

  “Hello,” he said in a cultured voice. “By any chance, are you Lara?”

  Lara swallowed. “Yes, I am, Mr., um...”

  “Todd Thryce, at your service.” He thrust out his hand, and she shook it numbly.

  At your service. Such an old-fashioned greeting. For some reason, Lara liked it. The man had good manners.

  “You’re the woman who wrote to us about adding a pet-friendly cookie category to the challenge, are you not?”

  “Yes, I’m not. I mean, yes, I am. Sorry, I’m getting all tongue-tied.” She felt a surge of heat fill her cheeks. She was acting like a smitten teenager.

  Todd Thryce laughed. “You’re fine, Lara.”

  The woman beside him stuck her hand out, almost shoving Thryce off balance. “I’m Alice Gentry, Mr. Thryce’s personal assistant. I think you received my letter.”

  “Oh, yes I did. Thank you for explaining the company’s position.” Okay, now, at least, she sounded like an adult.

  Lara realized she hadn’t introduced Aunt Fran. Fortunately, her aunt had the presence of mind to introduce herself. Todd Thryce took her aunt’s hand in his own and squeezed it warmly. Alice Gentry merely nodded.

  “Lara—may I call you that?”

  “Of course, Mr. Thryce.”

  “It’s Todd, and I wanted to thank you personally for your interest in the cookie challenge. Quite frankly, I myself thought of adding such a category years ago. Our directors, however, were not as keen on the idea.”

  Alice Gentry smirked. She obviously wasn’t keen on the idea either.

  “Our company supports animal charities as well as human ones,” Todd went on. “As you might know, I grew up in this town. I’d enjoy learning more about your shelter, and perhaps I can make a donation?”

  Alice stiffened visibly. Lara stifled a squeal. “Oh, well...thank you, Mr. Thryce. That would be wonderful.”

  He grinned, then reached over and touched Lara’s arm. “It’s Todd. I’ll be in touch.”

  * * * *

  In the gymnasium, the cookies from each of the thirty finalists were displayed on platters under glass domes. There was one dome for each finalist. Each platter was identified only by a number; names were omitted to ensure fairness in the judging.

  The domes rested on two long tables, one table for the bar cookies and one for the decorated cookies. Daisy Bowker’s cookies were the same delectable sugar cookies she sold at Bowker’s Coffee Stop. According to Sherry, her mom had decorated them to a degree no one had ever seen before.

  People milled about, oohing and aahing over the entries. Kids reached out toward the domes with eager little hands, only to have them snatched away by their moms.

  Sherry had spotted Lara the minute she’d entered the gym. She wove her way through the throng and slipped her arm through Lara’s.

  “Hey, I wondered where you were,” Lara said. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

  “I made it. Now, act real cool when you check out number eight,” Sherry whispered to Lara, tugging her toward the displayed cookies. “Don’t be obvious. You’re just a casual observer, okay?”

  “Got it. Number eight. Casual observer.”

  Lara strolled along the row of tables, glancing over the cookies under domes one through seven. Sherry ambled along behind her, a hyena-like grin pasted on her face. Yeah, real casual, Lara thought.

  Each batch of cookies looked more delectable than the last, with their red and green frosting and sugary sprinkles. Lara could almost feel herself drooling. When she reached number eight, her jaw dropped. “Your mom’s?” Lara said.

  “Shhhh. Not so loud! The bakers’ names are supposed to be secret.”

  Lara couldn’t take her eyes off Daisy’s gorgeous cookies. Unlike the ones she sold in the coffee shop, these babies were pumped up on steroids. Sugar steroids, that is.

  Six Santa-shaped cookies rested on Daisy’s platter, each one decorated in a completely different style. One Santa carried a brown, cookie-dough sack coated in brown sugar to resemble burlap. Wrapped presents made from candy crunch protruded from the sack. The sack itself was tied loosely with a bow made from red string licorice. The other five Santas were equally three-dimensional. They looked ready to walk off the platter. But what grabbed Lara most were the colors. Daisy had managed to dye the cookie dough in shades of red and green that looked straight out of a Victorian Christmas.

  “I think I’m going to faint,” Lara whispered. “These are the most fantastic cookies I’ve ever seen. I hope they’re up for grabs later. Maybe they should raffle them.”

  Sherry pushed Lara forward so she wouldn’t keep staring at Daisy’s cookies. “They’re not up for grabs. After the judges finish their testing, the remaining cookies will be delivered to a women’s shelter.”

  “That’s nice,” Lara said, though she’d have loved to nab one of Daisy’s.

  Lara glanced over the other offerings. While all the cookie entries looked scrumptious, none were as detailed as Daisy’s. She couldn’t imagine the judges not choosing Daisy as the winner. But then, she remembered, the cookies had to be taste-tested, too.

  “Okay, now check out the table with the bar cookies,” Sherry said. “Tell me if any one of them stands out to you.”

  Lara gave her friend a quizzical look. There were fewer browsers at the bar cookies, so it was easier to examine them. She moved slowly along the row of tables, stopping short at the entry numbered six. Eight plump butterscotch bars were arranged around the platter. Red and green chocolate pieces were nestled inside each one. But what struck Lara most were the designs. Coarse white sugar had been stenciled atop each bar, so that each one resembled a snowflake. As they were in nature, every snowflake was different.

  Butterscotch brownies were one of Lara’s favorite desserts. Aunt Fran had baked them all the time when Lara was a kid.

  Not wanting to appear too worshipful, Lara moved along until she reached the end of the row. She felt Sherry nudge her hard enough to bruise a rib.

  “Ow!”

  “Did any of them stand out to you?” Sherry asked her.

  Lara rubbed her side. “Yes, the butterscotch brownies that looked like snowflakes. If I were judging by looks alone, those would be my choice in the bar cookie category.”

  Sherry’s face turned a mottled shade of purple. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  Sherry grabbed Lara’s arm. “I’ll tell you later. Look over there,” she hissed, aiming her chin at one of the gymnasium’s four exits. “That’s her, standing by the door. The Plouffeinator.”

  Lara sneaked a careful look in the direction in which Sherry
was throwing eyeball darts. “That little woman? That tiny elf?”

  “She’s no elf,” Sherry said sourly. “More like a goblin.”

  Gladys Plouffe had to be no more than four feet ten or eleven. Her pewter-gray hair was curled tightly around a deeply wrinkled face. Her cheeks were painted bright pink, and each of her eyelids was adorned with about a pound of blue eye shadow.

  “See that apron she’s wearing?” Sherry said bitterly. “Well, she made that apron the first year I took home ec from her. She used it as an example of a perfectly sewn apron. She used mine as an example of the worst apron ever produced in her class. She actually passed it around so the other students could see how crappy my stitching was.”

  Lara frowned. “That wasn’t very nice. I can’t imagine a teacher doing that.”

  “Not very nice doesn’t begin to describe the woman. If she suspects those Santa cookies are Mom’s, it’s all over. She hates both of us.”

  A man’s voice squawked over the school’s loudspeaker system. “Ladies, gents, and kiddies, the judges are getting ready to judge the cookies! Please file quietly out of the room through the door to Hallway C so the judges can do their delicious jobs! And thank you for your interest in the Whisker Jog Annual Cookie Challenge!”

  “File quietly out of the room?” Lara said with a chuckle. “What are we, third graders?”

  Sherry rolled her eyes. “That sounded like Mr. Lumpkin. I can’t believe he’s not retired yet. He was a hundred when I was a freshman.”

  As the crowd filtered through the doorway, Lara sneaked another peek at Gladys Plouffe. The woman was moving into the gymnasium with the bearing of an army colonel, clipboard in hand. From her expression, someone might have thought she’d been asked to taste chunks of raw liver instead of trays of sugary delights.

  Sherry kept her eyes aimed at the floor, no doubt to avoid being spotted by the enemy. Meanwhile, Lara noticed another woman emerge into the gym from a different doorway. Her dark brown hair was encased in a hairnet, and she wore white vinyl gloves on her hands. Lara wanted to ask Sherry if she knew her, but her friend was busy making a spectacle of herself trying to be unobtrusive. Twice Sherry stepped on the heels of the woman in front of her. “Will you watch where you’re going!” the woman finally snapped.

  Lara breathed out a sigh of relief when they reached the hallway. “I’d better go relieve Aunt Fran,” she told Sherry. “She’s manning my table for me at the cookie sale. By the way, I saw your mom earlier. Did she leave already?”

  “You couldn’t have seen her,” Sherry said. “She stayed at the coffee shop today. Said she didn’t want to jinx her chances by coming anywhere near the school. I delivered her cookies here for her early this morning.”

  “But...I saw her, I’m pretty sure,” Lara said.

  “Well, you must have been seeing things,” Sherry said.

  Wouldn’t be the first time, Lara thought wryly.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Sherry groaned. “I’m really on edge over this contest. If Mom doesn’t win this year...” She shook her head. “Anyway, I think I’ll head to the coffee shop. Lunch’ll be starting soon. I’m sure Mom and Jill can use the help, even if it is my day off.”

  Jill was the new employee Daisy had hired right before Thanksgiving.

  “So, Jill’s working out pretty well, huh?” Lara said.

  “Yeah. She’s actually been a godsend, and she loves working weekends. It gives me a chance to spend a little more time with David.” Sherry blushed to the roots of her black hair. “I just feel so guilty about Mom having to pay for extra help—”

  “Stop it,” Lara said. “You deserve the time off. Are you seeing David later?”

  Sherry smiled, and her eyes lit up. “Yeah, we’re going to the mall tonight. Just where I want to be three weeks before Christmas.”

  “You’ll enjoy it,” Lara said. “Catch up with me later, okay? When do the judges announce their decisions?”

  Sherry looked at her watch. “Supposedly, they’ll make their announcements by five o’clock. The school will be closed, but the contestants will be notified by email.”

  “Seems kind of anticlimactic,” Lara said.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’m sure you’ll want to be with your mom when she gets the email.”

  “Uh...no,” Sherry said. “I’d actually like to be on the North Pole with no internet connection when she gets it, but yes, I’ll be with her.”

  “The North Pole?” a voice bleated.

  Sherry jerked around and saw her mother standing directly behind her, hands on her hips, her navy pea coat spotted with melted snowflakes.

  “Mom, what are you doing here? I thought you were staying away from the school today!”

  “Hi, Lara.” Daisy gave Lara a fast hug. “I was going to stay away, but I just couldn’t. I’m too nervous about the competition. I knew I’d die from curiosity if I didn’t see what the other entries looked like. Have you gals had a look-see yet?”

  “We have, Mom, but unfortunately you’re too late. They just hustled everyone out of the gym so the judges could get started.”

  Daisy groaned and made a face. “Darn it. I knew I should’ve left sooner. The roads were so slick I had to drive slow, and when I got here I had to park a mile away.”

  Lara slipped an arm around Daisy’s shoulder. “Daisy, I can state with absolute certainty that no one else’s cookies looked as scrumptious as yours. I can’t believe the amount of detail you put into your Santas! Each one is a masterpiece. But...how did you change so fast? I just saw you in an olive-colored coat.”

  “Huh?” Daisy looked at her blankly. “I don’t have an olive-colored coat.”

  It was Lara’s turn to be stymied. “Oh. I...guess I saw someone else. I was sure it was you.”

  “Mom,” Sherry said in a low voice, “I saw her, in the gym. The you-know-what.”

  Daisy’s lip curled, then her gaze darkened. “The Plouffeinator?”

  Sherry nodded soberly.

  “Then I’m outta here,” Daisy said. “If I never see that woman again it’ll be too soon. I don’t even want to risk running into her. Besides, I left Jill alone at the coffee shop. She’s probably going nuts.” She plopped a kiss on her daughter’s cheek. “Get back as soon as you can, okay?” She turned on her boot heel in the direction of the gym.

  “Wrong way, Mom.” Sherry gripped her mother’s shoulders and swiveled her around. “The exit’s that way.”

  Daisy laughed. “With all these people standing around, I got mixed up. Bye, you two!” With a backhanded wave, she hurried off, weaving her way through the crowd until she disappeared.

  “Oh, Lara,” Sherry moaned. “I’ll die if she doesn’t win this year. She’s been trying for so long.”

  “Don’t think so negative. If her cookies taste as wonderful as they look, and we know they do, then she has to win, right?”

  “I guess so,” Sherry said, looking unconvinced.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Guess who I met a little while ago?”

  “My brain’s too fried for guessing.”

  “Todd Thryce, the CEO of The Bakers Thryce! He showed up this morning in a limo.”

  “Well, isn’t that interesting,” Sherry said slowly. “I heard he never left his New York lair. I wonder what brings him to town.”

  “Maybe he got sick of all the city noise and decided to visit his roots.”

  Sherry grabbed Lara’s wrist. “Tell me. What’s he like?”

  “Pleasant. Polite.” Lara cleared her throat. “Attractive.”

  Sherry’s mouth opened in an O. “Look at you, blushing over another man. You, who has the cutest and nicest boyfriend in town.”

  Lara coughed. “I am not blushing. Something got stuck in my throat. And I’m only reporting what I saw. I have no interest in any man wh
ose name isn’t Gideon Halley.”

  Sherry mock-punched her. “I know. Just teasing ya. Hey, I gotta run. I’ll text you later, okay?”

  “Go,” Lara ordered.

  After they parted, Lara returned to the cafeteria. Aunt Fran was smiling like a kid in a candy shop. She held up a package of Lara’s Cat Nips and mouthed, “Only one left.”

  By now people had jammed the room. If the crowd was any indication, the cookie sellers would turn in a nice profit for the food bank.

  Lara wended her way over to her table. “You are amazing,” she said to her aunt. “I had at least fifty packages of those cat cookies!”

  “And now you have none,” came a throaty voice from behind.

  Lara swiveled on her heel. “Gid, you made it!” She reached up and hugged her significant other. Both his straight black hair and fleece-lined jacket were dotted with moisture. Gideon squeezed her around the waist and kissed her cheek.

  “You bet I made it. Did you think I’d miss your entrepreneurial debut?” He waved at Lara’s aunt. “Hi, Fran. How’re things?” he asked.

  “Oh, just peachy,” Aunt Fran said with a wink.

  Lara laughed. “Are you really buying the last package? In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t have a cat.”

  “But my new neighbor does. You’d love her. She positively dotes on that spoiled feline of hers.”

  “Then I would love her.”

  “How’s the cookie contest going?” Gideon asked. “Any word yet?”

  “No. Sherry said the judges are going to email the contestants later in the day. In case you’re wondering, it’s too late to view the cookies. The judges are already sequestered with them behind the closed doors of the gym.”

  “Sequestered?” Gideon grinned and pulled Lara close. “I’ll make a lawyer out of you yet. By the way, I forgot to ask you—”

  “Help! Someone, please help!”

  Everyone turned to see a woman rushing into the cafeteria, a hairnet dangling off her head. Her eyes wide with alarm, she cried out, “Please, someone, call an ambulance. Gladys Plouffe had a bad reaction to one of the cookies!”