Page 172 of Never Let You Go

At midnight each day, they’re given their assignments, and they have the whole day to realize them.

They present to the judges at six.

At five, the streets of Emerald Creek go silent, the shops shut down, and everyone gathers at the theater. Even Sarah, who’s decided to stick around for a few days, joins after a day spent hiking the area. The tasting and debating will go on until about ten at night, at which point the judges will announce the winners before handing out the assignments for the next day. Of the ten contestants from the first day, only four will remain for the second.

The third day, it’ll be down to two.

To say that I feel guilty for our fight the night before the competition is an understatement. I remember what he told me once, at the very beginning of my apprenticeship—that the dough feels the baker’s state of mind and behaves accordingly.

If Christopher doesn’t win, it will be my fault. I’ve inflicted too much hurt upon him by letting him falsely believe I betrayed his trust, and I’m concerned that his head is not in the right place now.

I look for signs that he might be out of sorts, distracted, angry.

I don’t see any.

The first day goes well for him, and I sleep better that night. Sure, he looks tense and tired, black circles marking his eyes, but his gestures are assured, and his answers clipped and to the point when the cameras approach him mid-work. He’s the Christopher I know in the bakery. And, while no one is surprised, you can sense the relief in the room when the results are in, and Christopher is selected for the second day.

Although a part of me is scared that means he’s already moved on from me, I’m relieved for him. He deserves to win, and the world deserves to know what a great baker he is.

Once he wins, people will get to know him better, and hopefully his win will give him a platform to promote his ideas about food, and community, and local production. He has so much to offer the world. So much passion. So much generosity.

I want the world to know him the way I do.

Well, for the most part.

The second day, the four contestants left are up to his level. There’s a woman from Boston, another one from Maine, a baker from Burlington, and Christopher. They all have to make the same confections, and there’s little left to their creativity. It’s all about execution. Creativity will be for the two finalists on the last day.

Today’s four contestants are lined up in immaculate and freshly pressed uniforms, their hands behind their backs, their feet slightly apart. Christopher looks more tired than yesterday, understandably, but he’s shaved, and his hair looks slightly damp, tamed back. He’s fresh out of the shower.

I texted him after our argument, but he never answered. Is he reading his messages when he goes back to his hotel? Is he ignoring me or simply trying to stay focused?

What’s important to him now is this competition, and that’s how it should be.

The judges start their comments, and my palms become sweaty.

While Christopher’s shepherd’s pie is clearly the winner, seeing how the judges literally lick their fingers and scoop up the crumbs from their plate, they give the woman from Boston top grade for her rye miche, and immediately, the whole room calls the judges partial. My heartbeat picks up.

But her croissants disappoint.

Each dish gets a score, and the tally starts. It’s unbearable to watch. At least for me.

Everyone in the front row is displaying some form of stress. Kiara bites her nails. Isaac shakes his leg. Willow pulls hairs from the top of her head.

We’re a disaster.

At nine, Skye is fast asleep, and Grace takes her back to her place, where she’s been staying since Christopher left for Boston. “I’ll watch from home,” she says as she slips out during yet another commercial break.

By the end of the evening, it’s set: it will be between the baker from Burlington and Christopher. The Burlington guy got a slightly higher score, and the mood is morose as everyone files out of the theater well after ten that night.

There are a couple of cameras on the sidewalk, and a TV van on The Green. Noah, as head of the Chamber of Commerce, is already miked up and defending Christopher and Emerald Creek. A group of people are gathered behind him, and it’s a miracle they don’t demand on live TV that Christopher get the title already.

I love that about them. That unconditional support and belief in their baker. In their village. The way they stick together.

Kiara catches up with me as I’m leaving. “So, whether Christopher wins or not tomorrow, we want to throw him a party.”

“Of course, yeah.”

“Can you help? You’re good with all the social media and online shit.”

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