Page 75 of Fire and Icing

Emberleigh will never know how grateful she truly is for my self-restraint.

She needs to win this. I’m not exactly an asset, but I aim to be one if I can be. And, above all, I’m not going to be the reason she gets kicked out or loses her chance at the grand prize.

The host continues her orientation. “As you’ll see, cameras are located at your stations, around the studio, and we also have roving cameramen. Feel free to look into the cameras occasionally, but for the most part, ignore them. Interact with me, the other host, the judges and one another. Those interactions give the contest appeal and make viewers feel as if they’re eavesdropping on us.

“I’ll do a little countdown and then we’ll roll. I’m going to give the same intro I just gave you, but into the camera, then we’llstart the clocks over your stations and you’ll have two hours to prepare, bake and decorate your confections.”

After one more sound check and the countdown, we’re live. The host does her thing, announcing to viewers that we’re in the “Cupcake Crush round,” and then we’re free to start baking. Emberleigh shifts into a state I’ve never seen her in before. She’s as focused as I am when I’m running into a fire.

And the analogy isn’t too far off. We’re in a flurry of activity as soon as the clock starts counting down. Time is of the essence and our survival in this contest depends on every single move we make.

“Come with me,” she shouts, scurrying away to the massive pantry at the front of the room. I follow behind her at a jog.

She hands me a basket and starts loading it with ingredients.

“Grab that flour—the cake flour, not the other bag!” I grab the bag she’s pointing to and set it in my basket.

“We’re doing a honeyed campfire cupcake,” she tells me as she drops a jar of local Tennessee wildflower honey into the basket. “It’s a nod to you being a firefighter.”

“How did you think that up so quickly?” I ask, turning the corner after her and extending the basket so she can drop in more ingredients.

“I have thoughts about baking all the time, and a list of options I considered before we came. But, also …” She drops baking soda and vanilla in with the other items. “I’m a baker. I have to think on my feet.”

“We have more in common than I realized.”

She pauses, but only for a second, glancing over at me and smiling. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Back at our station, it’s a methodical flurry of activity. Emberleigh has me measuring ingredients. The main point is getting things level and precise. That, I can do.

I’m doing whatever she tells me. But my mind is barely on cupcakes. It’s on her. She’s dedicated and obviously a master at her craft. I’ve tasted her baking before, but watching her create something from scratch? That’s a whole new kind of magic.

“Cream of tartar,” she says.

I look around for cream. “Not seeing it,” I tell her.

“It’s a powder.”

“Why don’t they call it powder of tartar?” I ask.

She pauses and looks up into my eyes. I smile down at her and she breaks into laughter.

“I really don’t know.” She shrugs.

I glance up. A man in a chef’s coat with a clipboard strolls by and stops. “Glad to see one team having fun. Let’s hope the flavors are as bright as the banter.”

He keeps walking. Emberleigh’s smile fades slightly. “Back to work.”

I nod. “Yes, chef.”

We work quietly for a few minutes, her focus sharp and my mouth zipped.

"You're amazing at this," I remark, watching her mix the ingredients I hand her together in a large bowl.

Emberleigh gives me a shy smile. "Just doing what I love."

A couple in the row ahead of us starts to squabble.

“I said two eggs!”

---