Page 160 of A Very Merry Enemy
The energy in the room is electric and joyful. Cameras are recording our every move, and the live stream has started. I can see us on the TVs. This isreallyhappening.
At nine thirty, Mayor Thompson moves to the microphone in the center of the room. He’s wearing a red suit and a Santa tie.
“Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the ninety-first annual Merryville Christmas Cookie Competition!” The crowd erupts in applause and cheers. “We have twelve amazing teams competing today for the grand prize of five thousand dollars and their names memorialized in the hall of fame display that’s kept at town hall. Not to mention, someone will be going home with a beautiful trophy.”
He holds the trophy in the air. It’s a golden oven on a platform. Applause roars.
I glance over at Holiday and loop my pinky with hers under the table. I give her a smile and she returns it.
“Our panel today includes some of the finest culinary minds in the world. Let me introduce them very quickly,” the mayor continues. “First, we have Patty Morrison, food critic forTexas Monthlyand this year’s James Beard Award winner.”
The crowd gives polite applause.
“Second, Chef Marcus Williams, owner of Williams Steakhouse in Austin. He’s been featured inBon Appétit’s Top 50.”
He stands and nods. The crowd grows more enthusiastic.
“Third, Chef Mary Carter, award-winning pastry chef and author ofSouthern Sweets and TreatsandPreparing the Perfect Cookie.”
Holiday’s breath catches, and I know she owns Mary’s cookbooks. This is a big deal for her.
“Fourth, Chef Thomas Reeves, last year’s Texas Baking Champion and owner of Confetti Cupcakes in Houston.”
He stands and grins at the crowd.
“And finally, Chef Dominic Laurent, Michelin-starred pastry chef from Paris.”
The applause is mixed. Some people cheer enthusiastically, but I notice a lot of people in the Merryville section are quiet. Word must have spread about what he did to Holiday. And if there’s one thing that’s certain about our small town, it’s that we stick together.
“The rules are simple,” Mayor Thompson says. “You have exactly three hours to create your signature holiday dessert from scratch. Everything must be made here, in front of our panel and audience. If you finish early, present your creation to the judges. Everything will be scored on taste, presentation, creativity, and execution. The team with the highest combined score wins.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Contestants, are you ready?”
All twelve teams shoutyes, including us. Holiday’s voice is strong beside me.
“Then let the baking begin! Your three hours start…now!”
A loud buzzer sounds and “All I Want for Christmas Is You” starts blaring through the speakers. The crowd goes wild.
All around us, teams spring into action. Mixers whir to life as ovens preheat. People are measuring and moving around with nervous energy.
Holiday and I look at each other, and she’s smiling now. Really smiling.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Ready,” she says.
“Let’s fuck ’em up,” I tell her, singing along with Mariah.
We fall into our rhythm immediately. We start on the shortbread bases together. We’ve practiced this so many times that we could do it blindfolded. Every movement is like second nature.
“Two cups of flour,” I say.
“One cup of butter,” she responds, already moving to the mixer.
We work in sync, dancing around each other in the small space like we’ve been doing this together for years. Because in a way, we have. This is what we always talked about doing: baking together, creating together, and being together.
The Christmas music keeps the energy high. The crowd sings along. The whole atmosphere is festive and fun rather than cutthroat competition.
Fifteen minutes in, our shortbread dough is ready. I press it into our pans while Holiday starts melting chocolate for the fudge. Around us, other teams are struggling. Someone drops a bowl and it crashes against the ground, spilling eggs and flour everywhere. Another team argues about measurements. The couple in the ugly Christmas sweaters looks like they’re on the verge of breaking up.
