Page 87 of Cloud Storm

I finish with eyes full of tears, waving and smiling.

Thanks to that little chat, I don’t have the time to sit and bite my nails. As soon as I finish they call us to meet the judges again.

“Cupcake makers,” Jonah says. “For this round you were challenged to make three cupcakes that capture the vibe of the stadium. Ariel, Markus, Christine, all of you hit a home run. But you also got a few strikes. The originality wasn’t the prime flag in your cupcakes, for that reason, Christine, you’re done on Cupcakes’ Battle.”

I see the girl crumble, tearing up and while I want to hug and comfort her, I also want to jump so high I break the ceiling.

I raise my head and my gaze finds his. There are so many emotions in there. His eyes are like a pool I want to swim in and get lost in. Our private celebration tonight will be epic. That’s if I survive the last challenge.

Speaking of…

“The good news is you reach round three, the bad news, only one of you can take home the prize. Ten thousand dollars and your cupcakes will be the centerpiece in the first game of the World Series here in The Park in San Diego.”

This.

Is.

Big.

And it’s going to be awesome!

“Each of you needs to create a thousand cupcakes fantasy display that captures the spirit of the World Series. One of you will take the cupcakes to the party along with the cash prize. The other will strike out of the game.”

The stakes are high. I have to dry my hands on my leggings. Twice.

“For this challenge you have an experienced carpenter to help you as well as four baking assistants. The deal is this, you have two hours and at the end of this final challenge the judges will assess your cupcakes for flavor, presentation, and the display and declare one of you the winner. Your time starts now! Play ball!”

Knowing I have to do a thousand cupcakes in just two hours is stressful. If I can pull this off, it will be known as a cupcake’s miracle.

The carpenter follows me to my station and I start brainstorming about the display. This year the World Series logo is colorful, thank goodness. “So I want it at the center of the whole display, hovering over a green diamond symbolizing the field. At the sides I want to recreate the bleachers, with the sun in the background and the dome of the library with the icons that represent the essence of downtown,” I say, looking to Mark, the carpenter.

“Can you make it?” I ask.

“It’ll be awesome. I’m a huge fan of your bakery, so this is for me too.”

What can I reply to that?

“Thank you very much, this is for our team!”

I need to fix the root beer cupcake, then centuplicate the cotton candy cupcake along with the popcorn caramel.

Thank you, God, for Katie and her mind-reading skills. While I’m giving instructions to the assistant bakers, she starts with the almond caramel batter. The girl is amazing, she earned a huge bonus already, not counting the additional bonus if we pull this whole thing off.

I’m improving my first cupcake this time by using real beer. I remember the brand Lancelot keeps at his house and all the pieces fall in the right place.

Thank you, Suit, for the inspiration. I’ll thank you later, as often as you wish.

Concentrating on doing my best, I’m one of the final contestants here. Please, dear batter, do your work and rise soft and delicious. I imagine Claude saying “this is like a memory foam mattress” so pretty please, be delicious.

“Try this,” I tell Katie and Mary, one of my new assistants. “Like it?”

Katie makes a face, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling. “Please tell me we are going to start including this one in the bakery at least once a month. This is delicious.”

Mary agrees and I have to cross my fingers wishing this works.

I hear someone screaming my name from a distance and my body shakes. I think it was him, but I can’t see him right now, my focus is on the competition. So, I have to keep my eyes from the yummy man cheering me on from the bleachers and concentrate on making all the yumminess here in the oven.

“We are going to the World Series, sixty minutes remaining,” Jonah shouts, reminding us that time is running out.

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