Henry breathed deep, taking in the other competitors. Willa smiling even as her fingers tightened into fists. Katherine absently curling and uncurling her hair around one finger. Tristan back to twiddling his thumbs. The four of them had been through so much here. They’d each had flops and successes along the way. This competition was brutal, as baking went. No singular baker kept up this pace of recipe development and statement pieces in everyday life. But they’d all lasted it out. Henry couldn’t help a warm wash of camaraderie through his middle, competition or not.
Once the judges had apparently reached their verdict, Jacob counted them back in. Sylvia clapped and scanned the set. “Congratulations to each of you. You’ve done alarmingly well, and I like to imagine my waistline is expanding so that it can give you all hugs. Your éclairs and croquembouches were no exception. Stunningly delicious and staggeringly impressive. But there was one outpouring of baking prowess that slightly edged out the others. Perfect execution of classic flavors... Henry, for the second week in a row, congratulations!”
Holy shit.Henry’s eyes widened, and he blinked at Sylvia a few times. Then the applause came and reality flooded through. He’d won twice. In a row.
That shouldn’t have meant anything. Hell, if thereweretwo rounds in a row where he’d win, it would be viennoiserie and choux pastry. Still, Henry’s body tingled with the excitement, the knowledge he’d won and the feeling that, somehow, itmeantsomething. And it did, to beat out the best of the best. The top four. He was the best out of the best four bakers they’d managed to find for this show. Henry won out over all of them, and damn it, that was worthsomething. Surely this proved that he wasn't going to disappear or be run over by the world at large. He could do take this all the way to the end.
Sylvia took on her dour face, and the room fell silent. “This is the most painful one yet for me, but someone does have to go. I don’t envy the judges any day, and I especially didn’t envy them the task this time.” She sighed. “Katherine, I'm sorry. Your pâte a choux wasn't quite down pat.” Sylvia marched over and wrapped Katherine up in a tight hug.
Katherine smiled as she took the hug, but a little sparkle of water in her eyes betrayed her actual feelings. Henry couldn’t blame her. It was bittersweet, at best, to make it this far and fall short. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to control his emotions that well in the same situation. Sure, yeah, you were still a good chef... but it was almost better to be tossed out first than to get this close to the prize and miss out.
Willa put her hand on Katherine’s shoulder, but that was it. Henry glanced to Tristan, then walked over to Katherine and got in his fleeting contact. Shehadpulled together some amazing flavors. It wasn’t all that fair to judge her on one baking session with bad rolls and a few appearance-based missteps. The kitchen without her... well, seeing the others go home before her had been doable, but somehow Katherine leaving made the kitchen feel a little emptier. Maybe a little too empty.Who am I going to silently judge, now?
Seeing the cleaver in Dexter’s impressive grip was bothersome. The sore muscles and expertise put into a croquembouche, all about to be shattered.
All four of the bakers clustered together to watch that one, and all of them—even Tristan—had a hand on Katherine as the cameras lined up their shot. Dexter had to swing up well over his head to make it work, and as he crashed the knife down, shards of caramel shrapnel shattered over the counter along with a spray of pale gray pastry cream. Katherine flinched, and Henry gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“And we’re cut!” The director waved. “I don’t want to rush you out; however, I’m going to rush you out. Sorry. Executive bull-crap, but I’m a slave to it, which means all of you are too.”
As the room emptied, Henry smiled at Tristan. “I won again. I don’t know if you remember what happened last time, but ...”
“Pipe down.” But Tristan smiled too. Just a touch.
Katherine walked off with the disgruntled director for her last interviews and whatnot, and Dexter walked over to the three of them who remained, wiping a smear of crème pat from his cheek. He grinned wide at them and rubbed his hands together. “Well, we’re down to three. What do you say to dinner?”
“Really?” Willa raised one eyebrow and looked him up and down. “Dinner with you? What if the neighbors see?”
“Let them talk,mon ami.” He winked at her. “Besides, I could never land a woman as lovely as you.”
“You talk as pretty as you bake.”
“I try.” He sighed. “But the dinner is with all of us. We want to take out our final three for a nice dinner. Although knowing the final three are from Seattle and New York, I might be tempted to skip it. God knows nothing we picked is likely to stand up to what you can get at home.”
“Oh, I think we’ll be okay. Right boys?” Willa turned toward them.
Henry nodded, then looked at Dexter. “I feel like Imighttrust your taste.”
Dexter laughed, loud and booming. “You’re only saying that because you won, aren’t you?”
“It certainly doesn’t hurt.”
Rita came around the table, closing a surprisingly out-of-date flip phone as she came. “I confirmed with Marguerite, and we have the terrace.” She beamed at the three of them. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if Dexter told you, but... they’re sending a couple cameras too. We let it slip that we wanted to take our semifinalists out for a meal, and the executives thought that was a great idea for a TV spot. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”
Henry shook his head. Willa shook her head. Tristan stood there wide-eyed and very, very pale. If they were alone, Henry would have given his hand a squeeze. But instead he just smiled. “What’s the plan?”
“Well, like I said, I got the terrace reserved at Bluestone Lotus. Renata has a full eight-course tasting menu for us.”
Tristan swallowed hard and Henrygotit. It clicked. It had to be a high-end place, and he probably hadn’t budgeted for that. Neither had Henry, but he had more wiggle room, especially considering how much time he and Tristan spent gorging on takeout and craft services instead of eating real food in real restaurants.
Rita sighed and slipped her phone away. “We’ll all go together, of course. The car will be at the hotel at seven thirty, so plenty of time for a shower, shave, and everything else?” She smiled wide, clearly oblivious to the tension radiating off Tristan. “Is that good with everyone?”
Henry nodded, Willa nodded, and Tristan finally found some motor control and nodded as well.
Rita rubbed her hands together. “Wonderful. Even if it means I have to wear heels again.”
Eli came from backstage. “Congratulations, you three. Really. None of us are exactly slouches in a kitchen, but I think we’ve seen some things worth paying attention to. Particularly from the three of you.”
He smiled, and Henry saw why he was the big baking heartthrob. He carried himself with a subtle confidence, and at least when he wasn’t judging you, his whole demeanor was warm and inviting. What wasn’t to love?
