Page 39 of The Deal Maker

He nods. “Yeah, I don’t think that will be too hard. Blue icing. Then crush up some crackers or something to make the sand look realistic?”

Giving him a pleading smile, I say, “How about we make matching ones?”

He points to me and says, “You want to match with me? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh come on. I know I can be crabby at times, but I do have a heart.”

“I’ll take your offer. We might as well help each other.”

That’s when we see a large table outside the bakery with several people crowded around it. So many people this early in the morning.

Georgie walks out the front door with a tray of several small bowls of colored icing.

“This looks great, Georgie,” Duke says with a smile.

“Great chaos, maybe. But things have been busy for the bakery, so I can’t complain.”

“Have you gotten a lot of new business?” I ask, interested in the impact this hunt has had on other shops in our town. Troy said it helped him. The Candy Jar hasn’t really been impacted though. We’ve given away a lot of small bags of candy, but that’s about it.

She nods. “I’m thinking at least a bit. But it’s also taking up time doing prep work for it.”

“Let’s hurry and get ours done,” Duke says once Georgie heads back inside. There are stacks of square cookies in the middle of the table, but it’s getting to them that’s our biggest problem. At least there’s some room at the end of the table.

“I’ll grab these, you snag that spot,” Duke says. I head over and stake our claim, grabbing a couple of small plastic knivesand trying to decide how to make this cookie a reality. There’s a lot that I’m not good at, but I do my best to be resourceful.

A couple just finished their cookie decorations and I’m in awe at how they were able to create such a picturesque scene of the bakery. There’s no mistaking the bakery’s sign, almost looking like a printed copy in miniature form. The woman turns around and I recognize her from the karaoke task.

They must be assigned all the same tasks we are. And from how good they are at the two events I’ve seen them at, they are a shoo-in for the grand prize.

There are a few piping tools on the table, which still won’t help me.

“Are you okay?” Duke asks, setting down the cookies on the table in front of us.

“I’m good. Just wondering how we’re going to compete with that,” I say, waving to the couple who is taking a picture of their masterpieces, fussing about the light of the picture and if they can get it to sparkle in the sun. Is there nothing they can’t do?

Duke shakes his head. “We’ve got this. Sometimes simpler is better.”

He pulls over the bowl of blue frosting and uses the spoon in it to plop a blob on the cookie. It’s not as thick as I thought it would be and starts oozing over the sides.

“Do we need to make an outline or something?” I ask, trying to channel everything I’ve learned from watching Food Network.

“I’m not sure how to do that,” Duke says, working his knife back and forth over the cookie. Underneath a piece of parchment paper, I find a small piping bag. I fill it and then use the tip to create an outline but very slowly, grateful that this is somewhat thicker than what Duke just set on his cookie. The problem is that it’s a white color, which is not something I was planning to use in this scene.

Maybe I’ll be able to cover it or incorporate it later.

“That’s a great idea. How did you think of it?” Duke asks. He’s got a small dot of icing on his forehead, but I’m not sure what to do about that. Certainly touching him would break all of the many rules I’ve set up for myself, but he looks so cute.

“I channeled my own Guy Fieri,” I say.

“Doesn’t he review restaurants?” Duke asks with a chuckle.

“I think you're right.” I laugh, knowing I’m not the one who should be in business with actual goods that don’t come in gummy form.

I use the blue to flood the cookie and then search for something to use as the sand. If there was a graham cracker package, that would be perfect. There are only a few colors and nothing else that would work. At least that’s what I thought.

Duke grabs another one of the sugar cookies and crumbles it up, sprinkling it over the bottom of his cookie. He hands me the other half. “Here’s our sand.”

“You can’t use that,” I say, glancing around. I am the epitome of a rule follower and this feels like we’re breaking an unwritten rule. “What if there aren’t enough cookies to go around for the rest of the participants?”

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