with the first round of cupcakes in her hands, Stacey stepped into the front of the shop and caught her breath. She’d forgotten about Rachel’s promised publicity.
Jake’s photographer friend, Caleb, from the Astoria Sun and other news crews with video cameras stood behind the judges, who were seated at a round white table. Beside Andi and Jake and their four children stood Trish, Oliver, and Evan. Grandpa Lewy was there with Bernice, Guy Armstrong with Sarah.
She also recognized some of Creative Cupcakes’ most loyal fans: members of the police department, the romance writers’ group who met in the shop on Tuesdays, families of the kids enrolled in the after school baking program, and ladies from the Saturday Night Cupcake Club.
Then she spotted Martha Slater and a younger look-a-like by her side, no doubt her daughter who owned the bakery that was competing against them for the state title.
As Stacey made her way around the counter, she saw William Burke walk in through the front door and glance at Ms. Slater, who then lifted her nose in the air and promptly ignored him.
Why were Ms. Slater and her daughter even here?
A moment later she got her answer when the judges stated that Creative Cupcakes was the last shop they needed to judge, and the winner of the competition would be announced this very night.
Stacey placed the first round of cupcakes on the table in front of them and murmured the flavor.
“Speak up,” the judge with the goatee told her. “We can’t hear.”
“Strawberry Parfait cupcakes with strawberry preserve butter cream frosting and rose petal fondants with sugar pearl trim,” she said, raising her voice.
The goatee man took a large bite, swallowing nearly half the cupcake. The rose fondant fell onto his plate and broke into three pieces.
Skeleton woman took the faintest nibble.
Depressed, saggy woman bit into her cupcake with a blank expression, chewed for a moment, and pushed the rest away.
Then all three scribbled in their notebooks, wrote numbers on their dry-erase paddles, and held them up in the air.
Goatee Man held up an eight, Skeletor an eight, Saggy Lady a seven.
Stacey took one glance at Andi’s worried face, groaned, and ran back into the kitchen.
“Two eights and a seven,” Stacey told her crew. “Not good. The judging is from one to ten, and we need nines and tens to win.”
Mia followed her, carrying her own paper judging paddle, and reported, “The fat judge said he liked another shop better.”
Andi also came into the kitchen. “Did you follow the recipe with exact measurements?”
“Of course,” Stacey told her.
“I’d come in and help you, but I have to feed the baby. Please . . . do your best.”
Stacey nodded. “We will.”
The second and third round of cupcakes scored slightly higher. They received more eights, some nines, one ten from goatee man on the Fudgy Mocha cupcakes with chocolate coffee ganache. Then on the next batch Theresa burned the vanilla custard filling while heating it on the stove.
“We’re going to have to deviate from the plan,” Stacey said and looked at Dave. “Do you have any of your marionberry ice cream still in the freezer of your truck?”
Dave nodded and went out the side door of the shop to get the container. Their cupcake-and-ice cream special had been popular enough on the beach, so why not try it out on the judges? At this point, what did they have to lose?
“See how great we are together?” Dave asked as she cored out the cupcake and he placed a scoop of ice cream inside.
“I think whipped cream and berries would be great together instead of vanilla frosting,” she said, concentrating on the recipe.
“A natural choice,” he agreed. “Just like it’s natural for two people who—”
When she picked up the tray and went out to deliver the cupcakes, Dave came with her.
“C HOCOLATE M ARIONBERRY CUPCAKES with a marionberry ice cream insert, topped with whipped cream frosting and a fresh
Jake’s photographer friend, Caleb, from the Astoria Sun and other news crews with video cameras stood behind the judges, who were seated at a round white table. Beside Andi and Jake and their four children stood Trish, Oliver, and Evan. Grandpa Lewy was there with Bernice, Guy Armstrong with Sarah.
She also recognized some of Creative Cupcakes’ most loyal fans: members of the police department, the romance writers’ group who met in the shop on Tuesdays, families of the kids enrolled in the after school baking program, and ladies from the Saturday Night Cupcake Club.
Then she spotted Martha Slater and a younger look-a-like by her side, no doubt her daughter who owned the bakery that was competing against them for the state title.
As Stacey made her way around the counter, she saw William Burke walk in through the front door and glance at Ms. Slater, who then lifted her nose in the air and promptly ignored him.
Why were Ms. Slater and her daughter even here?
A moment later she got her answer when the judges stated that Creative Cupcakes was the last shop they needed to judge, and the winner of the competition would be announced this very night.
Stacey placed the first round of cupcakes on the table in front of them and murmured the flavor.
“Speak up,” the judge with the goatee told her. “We can’t hear.”
“Strawberry Parfait cupcakes with strawberry preserve butter cream frosting and rose petal fondants with sugar pearl trim,” she said, raising her voice.
The goatee man took a large bite, swallowing nearly half the cupcake. The rose fondant fell onto his plate and broke into three pieces.
Skeleton woman took the faintest nibble.
Depressed, saggy woman bit into her cupcake with a blank expression, chewed for a moment, and pushed the rest away.
Then all three scribbled in their notebooks, wrote numbers on their dry-erase paddles, and held them up in the air.
Goatee Man held up an eight, Skeletor an eight, Saggy Lady a seven.
Stacey took one glance at Andi’s worried face, groaned, and ran back into the kitchen.
“Two eights and a seven,” Stacey told her crew. “Not good. The judging is from one to ten, and we need nines and tens to win.”
Mia followed her, carrying her own paper judging paddle, and reported, “The fat judge said he liked another shop better.”
Andi also came into the kitchen. “Did you follow the recipe with exact measurements?”
“Of course,” Stacey told her.
“I’d come in and help you, but I have to feed the baby. Please . . . do your best.”
Stacey nodded. “We will.”
The second and third round of cupcakes scored slightly higher. They received more eights, some nines, one ten from goatee man on the Fudgy Mocha cupcakes with chocolate coffee ganache. Then on the next batch Theresa burned the vanilla custard filling while heating it on the stove.
“We’re going to have to deviate from the plan,” Stacey said and looked at Dave. “Do you have any of your marionberry ice cream still in the freezer of your truck?”
Dave nodded and went out the side door of the shop to get the container. Their cupcake-and-ice cream special had been popular enough on the beach, so why not try it out on the judges? At this point, what did they have to lose?
“See how great we are together?” Dave asked as she cored out the cupcake and he placed a scoop of ice cream inside.
“I think whipped cream and berries would be great together instead of vanilla frosting,” she said, concentrating on the recipe.
“A natural choice,” he agreed. “Just like it’s natural for two people who—”
When she picked up the tray and went out to deliver the cupcakes, Dave came with her.
“C HOCOLATE M ARIONBERRY CUPCAKES with a marionberry ice cream insert, topped with whipped cream frosting and a fresh
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