“Mia, I didn’t know you were getting married,” Ava said. “You should be concentrating on that, not on my silly housing needs.”
Mia waved her worry away. “I’ve already taken care of most of my plans. Now it’s just the waiting, and I’d rather stay busy.”
“I told her I’d marry her any day and time. No need for any plans,” Cody said with a cheeky grin. “But she insisted that we do things a more traditional way.”
Mia gave him a little shove. “They’re not even that extravagant. I just want my family around me and to honor our love and commitment to each other.” They smiled into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then Mia turned back to Ava, spearing her with a look. “Besides, your needs are not silly. They’re valid and you deserve to have them met.”
Oh. Ava blinked back tears.
“Plus, we could use the money to pay for our honeymoon.” Cody’s quip set off another round of laughter in the group.
“Have you finished your letter yet?” Mia straightened away from Cody. “It’s really important that we get that in as soon as possible.”
Gulp. She really needed to get that letter finished. “I’ll get that to you ASAP.” A buzzer rang out from the cooking pavilion. Ava smiled around the group. “I think that’s my signal to head back. It was nice to meet you all.”
If she could help Zach win the money for his charity, finish an article that satisfied Judson’s demands, and write a letter that secured her a home here, her life would truly begin.
So. No pressure there.
If he could win the dessert section of the competition today and the other contestants failed miserably, Zach still might have a chance to take the whole thing. Sure, his appetizer yesterday had flopped. Big time. But he’d taken first in the entrée competition. And he was determined to finish in first again with this dessert.
He glanced around the competition pavilion for the space of the beat of a whisk. Across from him, it appeared Kim Beebe from Trixie’s was building a napoleon out of ladyfingers and a cream of some sort. He flicked his gaze to the side. The chef from Fiesta was mixing something in a bowl. Flour flew everywhere. The crowd around Val Anderson’s table laughed.
He tried to spot Ava in one of his quick looks, but her blonde head remained elusive.
Eyes on the prize, buddy.
Sure, it was a good idea to remind himself to stay focused. To not think about Ava and her plea to work together. To tamp down the conflicting emotions he felt at hearing his dad sayI’m proud of you.Much harder to do.
“What are you preparing, chef?” A woman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. A glance over his shoulder revealed Lily Hart and Declan Kelley.
“Lily!” He paused and turned to them. “Declan, good to see you.”
Lily stood with her arm looped through Declan’s. Her pale blonde head, with its purple streaks framing her face, only came to Declan’s shoulder. Dani had mentioned last summer that the two old friends had become enemies for a brief time, only to team up to save the fudge shop on island. He’d also heard that they’d gotten married in January.
“I’m working on a sabayon to go with a peach tart.” Check that, he was attempting to work on his sabayon. The mixture needed constant attention to fluff correctly.
“Sabayon, that’s the sauce with champagne and sugar, right?” Lily said.
“Yep.” Zach nodded once. “I saw your ice cream truck. I’ll have to wander over for a scoop later.”
“Maybe you can celebrate a win,” Declan said.
“Here’s hoping.” Zach measured out the sugar he would need. “How is the fudge business?”
“Now that we’re on the same team, it’s going well. We’re having a tasting later this week. I’ll be showcasing my caramel bergamot fudge.” Lily looked up at Declan with glowing eyes. “Stop by the shop while you’re in town. We’ve got some new product. Maybe you can give us some ideas too.”
“I’d love to.” A timer chimed on his phone. “Excuse me. I’ve got to—” He gestured to his ingredients.
“Of course.” Declan clapped his shoulder. “See you around.”
Zach turned back to crack some eggs for his sauce. He mixed the eggs with sugar and then rested the bowl on top of a pan of boiling water on the stove. Whisking constantly, he added the champagne in a slow stream.
“Zach!” He stifled a groan as he turned to see Pastor Arnie Chamberlain standing on the other side of his workstation, hand extended. The red-haired, fifty-five-year-old pastor had been on the island for a long time. He’d officiated at Dani’s wedding.
“Pastor.” He rested his whisk against the inside of the bowl long enough to pump the man’s hand once. “Sorry. This is delicate. Come around.”
“Congrats on taking first place in the entrée round. I saw you yesterday too, and today was a nice recovery.” Pastor Arnie shifted until he was in Zach’s eyeline but still off to the side in the cooking space.
