“A bit messy,” Liza said as she wandered, hands clasped behind her back. “Also makes it easier to steal your secrets, hacks, and ideas.”
Regan couldn’t see Vienna’s face but noticed she kept her head down.
Across from Regan, Ava was already gathering ingredients and setting them on her counter, and Regan realized that if any of them had peeked into the refrigerators when they initially got there, they’d have likely seen all the carrots and figured out they were making carrot cake.
Ah, well. It’s not a competition, she thought.You’re not onSpring Baking Championshipor something.She scrolled on her phone until she found her go-to carrot cake recipe, then set it on the counter so Hadley could see it too.
“Oh!” Liza’s voice cut through the din of prep work. She stood centered between the rows of workstations and held up her hands as if she’d just remembered an important detail. “One more thing.” The bakers all stopped and turned their attention to her. “I know this is a retreat and you’re here to learn, that it’s not a game or a competition. However…”
Oh, shit.
Regan braced because she’d read rumors, remembered what Maia had said, and she’d wondered.
“At the end of this retreat, I’ll give a hundred thousand dollar check to the pastry chef who impresses me the most with their work.” She waved a dismissive hand, as nonchalant as could be, as if she’d simply told them it was going to rain that day. “Okay. Back to carrot cake.”
Just like that, the atmosphere in the room changed. The chefs exchanged glances, lots of mouths hanging open, frozen stances, disbelief clear on their faces.
“Holy shit,” Hadley said quietly. “Did you see that coming?”
“I mean, I know she’s done it before,” Regan said, keeping her voice low. “But no. I thought she’d have said something last night. Holy shit is right.”
The last time this had happened was three retreats ago. The pastry chef who’d won had used the money to open her own restaurant in Phoenix. It was now one of the top restaurants in the Southwest.
“What would you do with that kind of money?” Hadley asked.
Regan didn’t even have to think about it. “I’d buy the bakery I work in when my boss retires next year.”
Hadley nodded. “Very cool. Well,” she glanced around, “let’s make some kick-ass carrot cake, then.” She held up her hand for a high five.
“I like the way you think,” Regan said, slapping the hand. “Let’s do this.”
* * *
Everything was suddenly different now.
Ava was so many things. Surprised. Excited. Nervous. Determined. A little bit annoyed. She tried hard not to think about what she could do with a hundred thousand dollars, but opening her own little boutique wine bar that served only wine and desserts—desserts she made herself—was first on the list. Of course, trying not to think about it only made her think about it, and she was interchanging different décor in her mind when Becca spoke.
“Should we get started? What can I do?”
Ava snapped back to the present. “Sorry. Yes. Absolutely. Let’s get moving.” They scanned the recipe Ava used most often, then split up to gather ingredients and bring them back to their workspace. She tried not to track where in the room Liza was at every second.
Carrot cake was well known and quite popular, in Ava’s experience, but it could be tricky as well. You had to decide in the beginning just how dense you wanted it to be. If your flour-to-chunky-ingredients (carrots, raisins, nuts, etc.) ratio was too uneven one way, the baking soda and baking powder wouldn’t be able to do their job, the batter wouldn’t be able to rise as high, and you’d end up with a dense, heavy cake. Too much in the other direction and there wouldn’t be enough texture for a traditional carrot cake. It would be boring and bland.
“How do you feel about getting started on the frosting?” Ava asked Becca.
“I’m here to help you. You tell me what you need.”
“Awesome. I have a cream cheese frosting recipe that I use all the time. I’ll send it to you.” She did, and soon Becca was on her phone, scanning through the recipe. “When you get to the powdered sugar, let me know.”
With a nod, Becca was off to grab ingredients.
A hundred thousand dollars.
Jesus Christ, she couldn’t dwell on that, on what it could do for her. For her life, for her work. Her annoyance surged again. She’d come here to learn, not to compete. And now she felt compelled, like shehad no choice but to run in this race she hadn’t signed up for. She glanced across to Regan’s station where she was weighing out flour while Liza watched. Yikes, that had to be nerve-racking. In front of her, Vienna was deep in conversation with her assistant, their heads almost touching. Things had definitely shifted. What had started as a group of women who’d been brought together to learn had become a group of women in competition with one another for a substantial prize, and that made the very air around them feel suddenly, weirdly charged.
Liza had said the winner would be the baker who impressed her the most. How the hell did she intend to measure that? How the hell were they supposed to figure out how to do that? She thought about actually asking these questions, but she’d read in several articles that Liza Bennett-Schmidt had a bit of an eccentric streak—and more money than God at this point—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise at all that things had taken an eccentric turn, right? Maybe asking her questions wasn’t a smart move. She didn’t want to piss off the giver of money, did she? Still, Ava found herself shaking her head in disappointment as she began grating carrots.
Carrot cake could be tricky for inexperienced bakers, but Ava could bake a carrot cake in her sleep. She’d dealt with all the pitfalls at some point in her career and knew now how to avoid them. She also had a flash of realization that Liza was testing them, trying to throw them off. For example, she noticed there were both whole carrots and pre-grated carrots in the fridge. Ava knew freshly grated carrots worked best in a carrot cake. They helped with the moisture level and had a sweeter taste. She saw that Madison had grabbed a bag of pre-grated carrots, probably thinking she’d save herself some time. And honestly, if this had remained a learning experience, maybe they’d have talked about that, as a group. Now that it was a competition, Ava kept her mouth shut as she grated whole carrots on her own. A glance to her left told her Regan was doing the same thing, and then Regan looked up.
