“I didn’t know you guys did delivery.”
“We don’t. Never asked him to do it, and I doubt your grandmother ever did either. Just something he does.”
A warm sensation coursed through my chest. Something weird tickled my eyes. Suddenly a holiday song played in my head along with a filmstrip involving Ethan hoisting a freshly cut tree over his shoulder and into Hollybrooke House. A roaring fire crackled in the fireplace and warm cinnamon applesauce simmered on the stove.
Earth to Marlowe? You don’tlikethat stuff, remember?
Ethan stood in front of me, clapping dirt from his work gloves. “Dad, I’m going to take a break. I’ll be here for the afternoon shift.”
“You don’t have to—” I started.
Mr. Sawyer had already moved on while Ethan looked at me with excitement. “I’ve got plans for us.”
“I feel like I’m intruding. I didn’t know so many people would be here.”
“It’s okay. We hire help for the season. Come on.”
I followed him to a trailer used as a business office with several rooms including a kitchen. Okay, kitchenette.
“We’re going to cookhere?” I scanned the space. Electric kettle, a microwave that had seen live combat, a weathered olive green refrigerator covered in holiday-themed magnets. Tiny scrap of counter space.
He pulled out a chair for me at a small round table. “Not here. We’ll put together a battle plan. Can you bake at the house, or are your brothers and cousins still hanging around?”
We both sat. “They’re at their own houses. Shawn is staying at one of those business hotels with a little kitchen. He says it’s on the company dime. I wonder if it has an oven.”
“Forget about Shawn. What are your family’s favorite recipes? We should start there.”
“I…” Drew a blank. Nothing. Zilch. “Mashed potatoes?” No. “Um, baking, right. Cookies. Sugar cookies.”
Ethan tilted his head in thought. “Your grandmother has a cookbook collection. I want you to find an old and worn one and see if she’s tagged any recipes.”
Good idea. “How many things are we baking?”
He laid out a paper with the Holly Days schedule. Beside it, he placed the competition list Grans put together. “There’s the bake sale this Saturday, so that’s our focus this week. We’ll need a separate plan for the Tasty Bake competition the following week.”
Right. Not one but two opportunities for baking.
Ethan caught my eye. “Don’t worry. I’ve already been thinking of ideas. I was going to text you today anyway.”
I reviewed Grans’ guidelines, which stated the person with the most bake sale items sold would win. For the baking competition, if any of us placed in the contest, tiers of points would be awarded, with the most points for the highest placement.
Ethan rapped a knuckle against the table. “The bake sale scoring is about quantity of items sold. The bake sale has rules, so cookies can’t be individually sold, they have to be sold in lots of six or a dozen and pricing is within specific ranges for consistency. This money is going to charity, so it’s not about individual profit. We need enticing products that look like a good deal when grouped together.”
My head was spinning. “So sugar cookies? Those will work, right?”
“Everyone will sell sugar cookies. That’s good and bad. If you don’t have any, and other people sell out, it’s a win if you can deliver. We’ll need a mix of unique items and familiar favorites.”
This sounded like a ton of work. Then again, the proceeds went to charity. Then again part two, and even more crucial, I could win the family estate.
Keep your goal front and center.Otherwise, I might puke over the obscene amount of festive activity.
“The Tasty Bake is where you want to show off.” Ethan showed me a video on his phone. “You ever watch this baking competition on TV?”
“Anna does. She gets inspired and I get to eat what she bakes.” I’d never regretted sampling any of her results, but I sure did regret not asking her more questions on how she’d made them.
“Excellent. Have you ever eaten one of these?” A picture of a chocolate cake in the shape of a tube with a swirl on the end stared back. Little edible holly leaves stuck out from the top.
“A neighbor used to bring us a cake like this for Grans’ holiday party.”
