Ethan’s face lit with a smile when I found him in the farm office. He abandoned his cardboard cup of coffee and threw an arm around me.
“Just the person I wanted to see. Come here.” He ushered me to the table in the kitchenette where a magazine lay open.
My body buzzed from the lingering pressure of his partial embrace. Even a half hug and I turned to mush.
“Here’s what we should do for the gingerbread contest. I’ve already put in an order for priority shipping for the isomalt.”
The magazine page displayed a Victorian house made of gingerbread and sugary confections. Little gumdrop bushes dotted the perimeter and the windows appeared to be lit from within.
“Hollybrooke House,” he announced, since I hadn’t responded. “That’s what we make for the contest.”
“You wantusto makethat?” I pointed. “I’m a far cry from a professional baker, Ethan. I’m not even like those home bakers competing for a cake plate in a hot tent. Besides, I don’t even know what ice melt is.”
“Isomalt. It’s a sugar substitute. It melts and looks like glass. Remember, everything has to be edible.”
I did not remember everything had to be edible because I couldn’t seem to retain the extensive list of rules. We’d never win this competition when the very thought of it made me want to dive into a warm, dark closet. “How much time do we have?”
“The gingerbread contest is in two weeks, right before Christmas. Next up this coming weekend is the Holly Days’ Family Fest. Relay races, obstacle course, snowman building contest. You know, the family team stuff.”
Right.
“You don’t remember.” He unfolded Grans’ list of activities. “Then mandatory caroling.”
“Mandatory caroling? I have to draw the line at forced communal signing.” Too far. This was all too far.
Then again, the house. The reason for doing any of this.
He laughed. “You’re an alto, right? You’re good at blending. I remember middle school choir.”
I covered my face with my hands. “Don’t remind me.”
We’d been required to “audition” in front of the class for a grade, even though every student ended up singing inRockford of Agesat the mall in Rockford, the pinnacle showbiz event for middle school choirs in the farthest reaches of northern Illinois. The audition had been intended to prepare us for the big-time.
All I’d known then was I hated singing alone and especially alone on command.
I’d frozen. Worse: I’d even practiced in front of my dresser mirror and wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.
But up there on the fake stage in the classroom facing everyone I’d grown up with, I freaked. I’d freaked so hard I fled the room in tears, without even uttering a single note. Which made the embarrassment so much worse.
“Marlowe.” Ethan’s gentle hand returned me to the present. “You’re not twelve anymore. The caroling is pretty casual. You can mouthwatermelonover and over if you want to look like you’re singing.”
I sank into a chair. “I’m being dramatic. Sorry.” I flipped through the magazine. The gingerbread creations were artistic masterpieces.
Ethan shoved the magazine aside. “Here, look.” His phone appeared in front of me. “These are pictures of last year’s contest on the town website. To get an idea what we’re up against.”
While not the perfection displayed in the magazine, the submissions were incredibly creative.
My shoulders sank. Then again, I only had to beat my family, not everybody in town. Then again: part two: the kids factoring in upped the ante. Riley’s daughter, Reece, had baking skills she could bring to the gingerbread contest. “This looks like it will take months. Is there a kit or something?”
“No kit will do this, but I did find blueprints online.”
“Blueprints?” Blueprints. For a cookie house. “Don’t you have work to do?” Guilt crept in for taking Ethan’s time. “I promise I’ll do the bulk of the gingerbread thingy so you have more time at the farm.”
He blinked, seeming to focus on me rather than the edible blueprints in his mind. No, the blueprints weren’t edible. Just the building. “We’re in this together, Marlowe. You know that.” He looked at me closer. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” No. Nothing was okay. “I just…” I found myself clamming up like usual. My fallback to pretend everything was fine and chipper, full steam ahead!
“I have an idea.” He held a hand out to me. “Let’s take a walk through the farm. We can catch the frost on the branches before the sky clears up and the sun melts it away.”
