Page 56 of A Very Merry Enemy
Lucas shifts and wraps his arm around the back of my chair. My breath catches. The weight of his arm is so close to my shoulders that I can feel the heat radiating from it. Every instinct screams to lean back into him, to let myself have this, but I force myself to stay in place. Pretending this doesn’t affect me.
The room fills with the scent of hot chocolate and cookies from the refreshment table. Outside the windows, I see Main Street is lit up with thousands of lights—the lampposts wrapped in red ribbon, storefronts glowing, and couples strolling hand in hand through Merryville.
This town lives and breathes Christmas, but right now, I’m suffocating in it.
At six fifteen, Mayor Thompson takes the podium.
“Good evening, everyone! Welcome to our annual Merryville Christmas cookie contest orientation!”
Applause erupts, and when I turn to look behind me, the room is full. People are standing around the perimeter of the huge room.
“We’ve had many teams register this year. A total of thirty-seven. This contest is a Merryville tradition, and we’ve had more tourists visit the town this year than ever before. Word about Merryville is spreading, and we’re so excited about that.” He grins. “Your cookies will be judged during the festival on December fourteenth, right in the town square, in front of hundreds of visitors. This is your chance to have your favorite cookie recipe shine and be inducted into the hall of fame!”
My stomach twists. Hundreds of people will watch us compete. Hundreds of people will see me fail or succeed.
The mayor walks through the rules: fifty identical cookies, baked on-site, in front of judges and festival-goers, three hours total. All ingredients are provided by contestants. Presentation, taste, and creativity are scored.
“The winning team receives five thousand dollars and theMerryville Champion Cookie Trophy, not to mention, you’ll be memorialized in the hall of fame. Many of you know the Jolly family has kept the title for twenty years running.”
More applause as people glance at Lucas and me.
The pressure feels too much. I can barely breathe under the weight of it. I think I’m on the verge of a panic attack. I count to ten, try to steady my breathing, because I need control.
“Now,” Mayor Thompson says, practically shaking with excitement, “let’s have Santa announce the judges.”
Lucas’s dad moves to the front of the room, jingling with every step. He lets out a bigho, ho, hobefore thanking everyone for being here. His dad shoots me a wink, and I smile.
“Now, let’s get on with who will be helping Santa this season with this contest.”
The screen lights up with five professional headshots.
“First, we have Patty Morrison—food critic forTexas Monthlyand this year’s James Beard Award winner.”
A woman with kind eyes and silver hair stands from a chair in the front and waves. Everyone gives a 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.”
A woman in her sixties with a warm smile appears. I have her cookbooks and am shocked the mayor was able to get so many professionals to judge this contest.
“Fourth, Chef Thomas Reeves—last year’s Texas Baking Champion and owner of Confetti Cupcakes in Houston.”
A young guy with tattoo sleeves appears. He can’t be any older than twenty-five.
My hands are ice-cold, despitethe warm room.
“Mayor Thompson will announce the final judge,” Lucas’s dad says.
But I notice the chair is empty by the others.
Seconds later, the lights slightly dim in the room and the projector comes on.
Mayor Thompson takes the microphone. “And for our final judge, we pulled out all the stops. I am beyond honored to introduce Chef Dominic Laurent—world-renowned pastry chef, owner of three Michelin-starred restaurants, and star of the Netflix seriesThe Pretty Plate.”
The room explodes with excitement.
