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“Straight back to the ballroom—they’re just about to get started,” she said genially. “And good luck!”
Mattie thanked her and took Grath by the hand without thinking about it—it felt good to have his support in this situation. Together they walked through the double doors at the back of the Civic Center.
The back of the center was huge—at least three or four times as big as the large front lobby. It served as a public meeting place for all of Christmasville’s civic events, like town meetings and voting during elections. And right now, it was set up for the Bake-off with a long row of ovens on one side and an equally long row of tables piled high with ingredients and equipment opposite them.
“Name?” asked a woman with brown hair and a Christmas print dress as she bustled up to them with a clipboard. She was wearing a nametag with “Mrs. Harris” printed neatly on it in block letters.
“Oh—Madeline Porter,” Mattie said quickly.
“Yes, Ms. Porter—you just made it,” the woman said, nodding. “Your mother was here just yesterday dropping off everything you need for your recipe. Pecan sandy snowballs—correct?”
“Yup, that’s my specialty!” Mattie laughed nervously. Back when she’d still lived in Christmasville, she had entered the Bake-off several times, but she’d never won. That honor had always gone to Amanda Hutchinson. She looked anxiously around the woman checking them in, but she didn’t see her old nemesis in the little knot of contestants at the other end of the large room. Well,thatwas a relief, anyway!
“And who is this?” Mrs. Harris demanded, looking up at Grath distrustfully.
“I’m her Protector,” he growled.
“Er, sous chef—he’s my sous chef!” Mattie corrected quickly. “We’re allowed to have an assistant, aren’t we?” In the past, she’d always taken her sister Anna with her.
“Yes, you are.” The woman cast a last, doubtful glance at Grath but finally nodded. “The judges are just about to address the contestants. Go listen to what they have to say and then you’re at table number nine. Here—wear these.” And she peeled two stickers off a list on her clipboard and handed them to Grath and Mattie.
“Number nine—got it! Thank you.” Mattie took the stickers quickly. They both had a big number 9 printed on them. She slapped one on her own chest and turned to put one on the pocket of Grath’s blue t-shirt. “Come on,” she told him. “We have to get going!”
They joined the knot of bakers—some of the faces were familiar—and were just in time to catch the introduction of the judges.
“…so glad all of you could make it!” a woman with short gray hair and a green and red Christmas sweater was saying as she stood on the stage at the back of the room. “As you all know, this is the annual Christmasville Christmas Cookie Bake-off and we aredelightedto have each and every one of you here to participate!”
There was a brief round of applause and then the announcer continued.
“I’d like to introduce you to the judges and they’ll tell you the rules,” she said. “Judges, if you’d please step forward as I call your names? Mr. Carmichael is the head baker at the Goody-Goody Bake Shop on Summerville Road. I’m sure all of you know him—we’re all addicted to his donuts!”
There was a round of applause as a rotund man with a pink, cherubic face stepped forward. He was wearing a dark suit and smiling at everyone. Mattie knew him well—the Goody-Goody Bake Shop was a fixture of Christmasville daily life—their glazed yeast donuts were delicious.
The next judge was a woman named, Judy Owens, the owner and operator of Christmasville Catering. Mattie knew her too—Mrs. Owens and Mr. Carmichael had been judging the Bake-off for as long as she could remember.
“And this year, since Mr. Hutchinson had to retire, we have a new judge,” the gray-haired lady said, smiling widely. “Please welcome Mrs. Amelia Kranst!”
“Oh!” Mattie gasped and tightened her grip on Grath’s hand—which she was still somehow holding.
“What is it, little girl?” he murmured under his breath, leaning down to catch her answer.
“That’s my old Home Economics teacher!” Mattie whispered. “She was alwaysreallyhard to please! I don’t know if we’re better off of not.”
“Youwillbe victorious,” Grath rumbled, squeezing her hand firmly. “I know you will, Madeline.”
“Well…thank you.” She smiled up at him, feeling reassured. “I’ll certainly do my best.”
“Where is your tormentor though?” Grath asked, frowning as he scanned the little crowd of bakers.
“I don’t know.” Mattie frowned. “I haven’t seen her here yet. Maybe she’s not entering this year since her uncle isn’t a judge anymore.” She certainly hoped that was the case, anyway—the last person she wanted to see was Amanda Hutchinson!
Then a sharp, familiar voice broke her train of thought.
“Here are the Bake-off rules, so listen up!” Mrs. Kranst called out and all the murmuring that had been going on among the contestants stopped immediately.
“Every baker will have an hour and a half to make their cookies,” she said. “At the end of that time, we will open the Bake-off to the public to watch the judging. Now, I shouldn’t have to say this but there will benostealing of other contestant’s ingredients or tampering with other contestant’s equipment,” she went on sternly. “If I catch anyone doing that, they will beimmediatelydisqualified. Other than that, just do your best. Now let’s have a nice, clean Bake-off!”
There was another polite smattering of applause and then all the contestants hurried off to find their tables.
