The Holiday Swap(44)
“Yeah, it’s a real relief,” Cass murmured.
“But she doesn’t want to come back to L.A. yet? Almost done here, just stay still. Stop playing with that bracelet.” Priya was now applying Cass’s fake eyelashes, a tenuous task that required absolute stillness.
“I kind of convinced her not to. It makes sense for both of us to just stick to the original plan. Logistically speaking,” Cass said. During her call with Charlie the night before she had realized she wasn’t ready to go back to Starlight Peak. To face Brett; and the monotony of holiday orders; and the, at times, tediousness of small-town life.
“For logistical reasons. Right.” Priya chuckled. “You’re sure a certain cute physician assistant doesn’t have anything to do with this?”
“What about a physician assistant?” Sasha’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “Is everything okay, Charlie? Did you have to go back to the hospital?”
“No. I’m fine. Just . . .”
“My friend is dating a physician assistant,” Priya chimed in. “He’s a bit”—she waggled her eyebrows—“wild in the bedroom. A story for when we’re off the clock, if you know what I mean.” Cass was grateful to Priya for attempting to try and shift Sasha’s focus away from her health, but their boss ignored Priya’s salacious offering. Stepping closer to Cass, she quietly asked, “Did you bring it?”
“Bring what?” Cass replied.
“The bread mask. Come on, Charlie, I’ve asked you three times now. The reason behind your suddenly glowing skin. I need it to prepare for the gala I’m going to tonight.”
The starter mask. Right. “Oh. Shoot. I’m so sorry, Sasha. I ran out.”
Sasha gave her a critical once-over. “Now that you mention it, I can tell. Your skin’s a bit sallow today. Priya, maybe a bit more of that highlighting veil?” Then Sasha was gone as quickly as she’d arrived, and Cass felt a flare of frustration on her sister’s behalf. Her appearance was constantly dissected. Meanwhile, Austin walked around in his chef’s whites like he ran the place, without anyone commenting on his skin or using hemorrhoid cream around his eyes. It wasn’t fair.
“Don’t listen to any of that, Cass. You look gorgeous, like always,” Priya said quietly, giving her a reassuring smile. Then Sydney was at the door, telling Cass she was due on the set. Time to kick Austin Nash’s smug confidence right out of the kitchen, securing Bake My Day for Charlie.
* * *
? ? ?
Cass took a last glance at her notes and then stood on her mark beside Austin, her heart hammering as she tried to quell the nervousness she felt every time the cameras turned on.
“All set, Goodwin?” Austin kept his winning smile in place and his eyes on the camera. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and she shifted slightly away from his touch. “Makeup seems a bit heavy today.”
Cass ignored the jab, focusing instead on the teleprompter that held her lines. Soon the hosts were counted in and Cass pushed aside all thoughts except for one: You are a badass superstar baker, and never forget it.
The studio was busy, with a packed audience and the contestants back on set. Today’s challenge was a gingerbread croquembouche tower, complete with spun sugar tendrils that delicately wrapped around the pastries. All Cass had to do today was judge the contestants’ creations, as the assistants had prepared the sample tower with very little input from Austin or Cass. This was another surprise to Cass about reality television . . . just how much help Austin and Charlie received when it came to creating their masterpieces. The two of them created the recipes, but much of the labor fell to the assistants. Cass wondered if that had ever bothered Charlie, who was not one to shy away from hard work.
Cass invoked her sister’s poise and read her lines flawlessly, hitting every beat. She even tossed in a well-timed joke at Austin’s expense, and saw Sasha try to hide her smirk as Austin stumbled ever so slightly on his next line. Then the hosts had a break as the four remaining contestants started working on the recipe, the cameras moving to capture the fast-paced energy of the bakers as they tried to re-create the croquembouche tower in half the time it actually took to do it well. Another mirage of television: everything looked more frenetic during these test kitchen tapings because contestants were not given the time for errors or missteps, of which there were always a few.
Austin and Cass had to come on camera a few times during the baking race, to make it seem as though they had been carefully watching and scrutinizing the process from beginning to end. Soon they were down to the last five minutes on the clock. Cass and Austin moved back to their marks to get ready for the frenzy they were expected to whip up as the timer counted down.
“And . . . stop!” Austin said. “Step back from your towers, bakers.”
Now Austin and Cass were on the move, the cameras following them as they walked from one taped X on the floor to another, in front of the workstation of the first contestant, a twenty-five-year-old named Dani who had a custom cake shop in Idaho. Cass and Austin evaluated the croquembouche—a valiant effort, though it leaned ever so slightly to the right—and offered first impressions of the confection, which were already prepared and on the teleprompter.
Dani looked petrified, though she tried to hide it behind a wide smile as she moved to serve the dessert on the gold-plated dishes that were used for judging. Except Dani didn’t get to serve anything. Cass, who swept her hand in front of the pastry tower as she delivered her line, did not feel her bracelet release from her wrist until it was too late. The bracelet crashed into the top of Dani’s slightly short and somewhat leaning tower of pastries. For a split second it seemed the bracelet might only have taken off the top two rows, which meant they could edit out the flying bracelet and Cass’s loud gasp. But then the already leaning tower toppled sideways, and the entire dessert ended up on the floor on top of Cass’s too-high heels.