Page 23 of Baking Spirits Bright!

Ryan

Eating so many delicious foods with my eyes closed makes this feel like I’m dreaming. We’re given one plate after another, and it’s hard to keep from making a mess with some of them.

The crowd laughs as we fumble with forks and try a bite of everything. I’m sure the people filming this had a hand in that idea.

A half hour later, our blindfolds are lifted. Messy crumbs and dropped cobbler lay in front of us. I smirk and wipe my mouth with a napkin just in case I’m as messy as the table.

Georgia passes out papers and says we are to score our favorite dessert on a scale of one to five. Every judge has to give a score for presentation based on our viewing before anything was served and another score for taste from the blind testing.

Erica’s family’s pie was delicious, as was everyone’s entry. But once I tasted a chocolate cookie with icing, I compared everything else to that.

Something about it was so warm and comforting, it made me want more.

We all turn in our answers, and I scan the room for Erica. Other people are occupying the corner where we stood together before the contest. She could be anywhere in a room this crowded. Hopefully I can find her before I leave for the airport.

Georgia tallies the votes and announces that the cookie dessert wins. She holds it up and calls the baker to the front.

To my surprise it’s a young teenage girl. She explains that cookie crack is her late mother’s recipe, and that she and her aunt make it all the time. She decided last night to bake a batch and enter it in honor of her mom.

And that is the hometown story I need for my blog.

As soon as Georgia awards her a trophy and photos are taken, we’re released to mingle. I find the girl and ask if I can talk to her about the dessert.

She describes how she lost both her parents in a plane crash and introduces me to her aunt. They gladly allow me to share the background story and recipe.

I give her my business card and thank them. Several of the people I met the past few days come up and talk. Including Woody, who hugs me.

“I’m going to miss you. You’re the best renter ever.”

“Thanks,” I huff.

He releases me and smiles. His phone dings and he jerks it from his pocket.

“Oh, I gotta go. That’s Misty. Belle is having the puppies.”

“Good luck,” I call as he runs toward the door.

I cringe as he hits a table with his knee. He buckles over, then stumbles and hops out the door. I need to head for the airport. But I don’t want to go without saying goodbye to Erica.

I find her mother, who doesn’t know where she went, and I’m out of time. I go to the car and try calling her on the way out. No answer. I send a text for her to call me.

Then I spend the next several hours obsessing over whether she’s responded while I drive to the airport.

Holiday traffic gives me time to think of some new blog posts and several angles for featuring Apple Cart County and all its delicious foods, from Mary’s Diner and Carla’s Cookies to, of course, the orchard.

But the real hidden gem I found was Erica.

Not kissing her is something I may regret the rest of my life.

I go through the mundane motions of dropping off my rental car, checking into the airport, and finding my gate. I’m half dazed out, staring at a sign that reads, “No weapons, contraband, or taxidermy,” when my phone buzzes.

I reach for it in a panic, then roll my eyes. It’s one of those automatic notifications that it’s time to schedule my dental cleaning.

I try and call Erica one more time and leave a message.

“Hey, it’s Ryan. I looked for you before I left. I wanted to say bye and see you one more time. Please give me a call when you get this. Bye.”

The receiver beeps, and I stare at my phone. A few minutes later, my row is called to board the plane. I pocket my phone and start the last leg of my trip home.

---