5 Windy City Hunter (9 page)

She nodded her head, and I made my way to where several coat racks had been set up in one corner of the room. From there, I headed for the restroom I had been in the night before.

When I returned, Darby was upset. I couldn’t imagine what had happened from the time he dropped me off until now, but he was frantic.

“Susan, where did you put the box you brought in?” he asked.

“Right here beside my bag,” I said. I moved the Crate & Barrel bag, but the box wasn’t on the counter. “Honest, I put it right there.”

I looked around. The box wasn’t anywhere to be found. I would have asked Bonnie if anyone had been at our station, but she wasn’t at hers.

“Susan, I need that box. I can’t bake my cake without it,” he said. “It has ingredients I need that aren’t provided for us. Where did you go? Why didn’t you stay here?”

I knew he was frustrated, but I didn’t like that he was going to turn this on me and blame me. “I went to hang up my coat and go to the restroom,” I told him.

Dee from Wyoming came in and set her bags on the station next to Darby’s. Her long, crimped hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, and she looked years younger than she had last night. Darby barely acknowledged her greeting as he continued to look for the box. I felt helpless and guilty but didn’t want to say anything for fear he would turn on me. I had never seen him so on edge before.

“Darby,” Dee said, interrupting his search through my Crate & Barrel bag for a third time. “Is this yours?” In her hand was the box with the initials D.T. on the top.”

“Yes!” he said with relief. “Where did you find it?”

“It was in my cupboard with the mixer and bowls,” she said.

“Thank you, Dee,” he said. His shoulders drooped as tension left him. She smiled and went about unpacking her own items.

“Darby, I didn’t put your box in there,” I said defensively.

“I know you didn’t, Susan,” he said. “Someone was probably being a wise guy.” He made a conscious effort to smile and give me a quick hug. “Let’s get ready. We have a cake to bake.”

I smiled and said, “Yes, we do.”

Darby opened the box that had been in Dee’s cupboard. Inside was a bag of brown sugar and a bottle of vanilla.

“Darby Tapley!” I said incredulously. “You have been guarding this box and making such a fuss over brown sugar and vanilla?”

He laughed and said, “It’s not just any brown sugar or vanilla. I made them both myself, and these two ingredients are going to make those judges swoon.”

He set the bottle and the bag on his counter. I opened the Crate & Barrel bag and pulled out my new apron. It was a red apron with jars of candy for decoration, a green loop to go over my head, and ties of the same green for behind my back. Darby smiled and said, “You look really cute. A perfect Christmas helper.”

Also in my bag was a dishtowel to match my apron and two red and green striped potholders. The holiday colors brightened our station.

Darby had his second small box on the counter now, and I couldn’t wait to see what this one held. He opened it, and I peered inside. It was a tablecloth.

“Why did you bring a tablecloth?” I asked. This box was more perplexing than the first.

“It’s not a tablecloth, silly,” he said. “It’s my grandmother’s apron.”

I started to giggle as he whipped the apron out of the box and held it up. I leaned against the counter and started laughing harder as he lifted the red loop over his head and tied the red ties behind his back. Large poinsettias were scattered all over a white background. The apron reached to his knees.

Bonnie and Dee walked over to stand beside me and give Darby a good look as well.

“Darby, you ah jest about the cutess thang I have evah seen,” Bonnie said while deliberately exaggerating her Southern drawl. We all laughed.

“Ladies, my grandmother made her famous buttercream coffeecake every Christmas wearing this apron, and I’m going to wear it today in honor of her. I hope I can make it as good as she always did.”

Dee patted Darby on the shoulder as she moved over to her station, and she said sincerely, “I’m sure you will, Darby.”

The announcement came over the loudspeaker that stations seventy-five through one hundred had five minutes before start time. It was then that I noticed Craig wasn’t at his station and hadn’t made an appearance yet. For as excited as he was about the contest, I thought he would have been the first one here.

I looked around the room and saw almost all of the people in the baking section were singles with no helpers. Darby obviously didn’t need me, but I was glad he had asked me to come, and I felt tingly with excitement.

I grabbed my camera out of the Crate & Barrel bag, and with their permission, I took photos of Bonnie with her pecans for her Tennessee Pecan Pie, and Dee holding up a bottle of rum that would be used for her Coconut Rum Cake. I took several photos of Darby looking adorable in his grandmother’s apron. It almost brought tears to my eyes. Almost. I wished I could have taken a picture of Craig with his pink shoelaces, but he still wasn’t here, and there was less than a minute to the starting bell.

I put my camera away and stood beside Darby. I reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. The bell rang, and everyone sprang into action.

It wasn’t a minute later, and I saw Craig at his station. He was unwrapping a stick of butter and tossing it into a bowl.

Darby started by cutting butter into a mixture of flour, his homemade brown sugar, and cinnamon. When he finished with the cake topping, he would move on to measuring the dry ingredients. I started by creaming butter and sugar with the mixer.

It didn’t take very long before the cake batter was made, topped with the cinnamon crumble, and ready for the cake pan I had greased. Into the oven it went. It was crucial to watch the time carefully. The cake baked longer than most, anywhere from forty-five to fifty-five minutes, and there wouldn’t be room for error.

With a sigh of relief, we high-fived each other and took a moment to assess our next move. We decided to bake all three cakes first before making the buttercream filling. The cakes would need to be cool in order to cut them in half lengthwise and spread the filling between the halves.

“Hey, Barbie, Ken, you guys want some water?” Craig called over to us.

“I do,” I said.

“Me, too, thanks,” said Darby.

Craig’s cake had already been in the oven for a while. It wasn’t as complicated as our cake, and he would have more than enough time to make his three cakes and wander the room to see what everyone else was doing, too. He had just come back from another part of the room and had six or seven bottles of water in his arms. He brought two bottles over to our station.

He checked us both out and said, “You guys look really cute, you know.”

“Darby’s wearing his grandmother’s apron, and these are my Mag Mile accessories,” I said with a smile as I opened my water.

“Nice choices,” he said, nodding his approval.

“You almost didn’t make it on time,” Darby said. “Weren’t you worried about being disqualified?”

“No,” he said. “I was at the gallery getting some things ready for my show tomorrow night, and I was just running a few minutes late. You guys are still coming, right?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’m looking forward to it, and if you have something that will look good in my husband’s office at home or at work, I’ll definitely consider buying.”

A big smile spread across his face. “That would be great. I am starving, you know,” he said. He looked at his watch. “Ok, water break is over for me. I’ll check in with you two dolls later.”

I smiled as he walked away. Today he was wearing a pink button-down shirt with a pink and white bowtie, black slacks, and his black tennis shoes with pink shoelaces. His clothing reflected his unique personality. He was also wearing quite a bit of flour on his black trousers.

“Susan, let’s take a restroom break before we start the next cake,” Darby said taking off his apron. “I’ll be good for the duration after that, and maybe you’ll only need one more break then.”

I smiled and nodded my head. I appreciated that he was thinking about what I might need, too, as we continued to bake.

The closest door out of the room was near the risers where the spectators were seated. I scanned the crowd of people and saw some were chatting, others were nodding off, and some were staring blankly into the room. It was probably difficult to sit for so many hours when there wasn’t that much to watch. Two young boys fighting over a game system caught my eye. The dad beside them barked something, and they settled down. I smiled. This would be a long day for the boys and the dad. Before I looked away, I spotted Wes in the stands. He wasn’t looking in our direction. What was he doing here? Was he watching us? Was he watching someone else? He couldn’t possibly be interested in the cooking competition. Was he hiding in plain sight in the crowd? I grabbed Darby’s arm to point him out.

“What?” he asked.

As quickly as the thought came to say something to him, I shoved it aside faster. If I brought Wes up to him now, he might get mad, and it could throw everything off for the day.

“Nothing,” I said with a smile. “I just wanted you to slow down a little bit.”

Five minutes later, I came out of the restroom, and Darby was waiting outside the door for me.

“Ready for the next round?” he asked.

I slipped my arm through his and said, “I sure am.” I looked at my watch. “The first cake should be ready to check in twenty-two minutes.” We walked through the doorway and headed back toward our station. “We’re going to start the batter for the next cake now, right?” I asked.

“Yep,” he said. “Just like before. I’ll make the topping and do the dry ingredients, you cream the butter and sugar and get the sour cream ready. Let’s try to do it -” he stopped talking and frowned. “What the?”

I noticed he was looking toward our station. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I think Dee just took something off my counter,” he said.

We walked faster, and as we approached, Darby said loudly, “Dee!”

His voice startled her, and she jumped. She dropped whatever she was holding, and it fell into the gap between her station and Darby’s. She was left holding a lid. A small lid. The lid to Darby’s homemade vanilla!

“I’m sorry, Darby,” she said with a look of horror on her face. “I didn’t mean to drop it. I was just putting it back.”

“What were you doing?” he asked. He was mad, but I couldn’t tell how angry he was. I steeled myself for an outburst. “It’s against the rules to interfere with another contestant.”

“I know,” she said, “but I don’t know if I forgot to bring it, or if the contest organizers forgot to provide it, but I didn’t have any vanilla. You weren’t here to ask, and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I do mind,” he said emphatically. He closed his eyes for a second and let out a big sigh. “But it’s not the end of the world.” He opened the cupboard under his counter and pulled out the box that had held his apron. Inside was one more small bottle of his homemade vanilla. “I came prepared.” He looked at Dee and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Dee seemed relieved, but she was obviously shaken. She poured some of the rum for her cake into a measuring cup and drank it in one big gulp.

Bonnie left her station to come stand beside me. “You know,” she said, “you shouldn’t let that go. You should report her to the committee. It’s against the rules for her to have touched anythin’ on your station, and she shouldn’t get a pass.”

Darby was already working on the topping for his next cake. His only irritation at the moment was that he had lost a few minutes because of Dee.

“It’s not up to me, Bonnie,” I told her. “If Darby’s ok with it, there’s nothing I can do.” I moved back to the counter and grabbed a stick of butter for my mixing bowl. She didn’t say anything more and stepped back to her station.

Things went well for the next twenty minutes. The first cake came out of the oven and looked beautiful. The second cake was in, and we were cleaning up the station to prepare for the third batter.

Dee came up behind me and said, “Susan, I don’t feel good. Maybe it was the shot of rum, but I feel flushed and a little dizzy. I’m going to get some fresh air. I’ll be back in a few minutes. If my timer goes off before I get back, will you pull my cake out of the oven?”

“Sure,” I said. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “I think the cold air will help to snap this out of me.”

She left the room, and I finished drying our bowls and utensils. When her timer went off ten minutes later, I pulled the Coconut Rum Cake out of the oven and set it on her counter. Her icing, made with Darby’s precious vanilla, was already made and covered with plastic wrap on the counter. I was tempted to taste it, but I would probably get caught, and then we would be disqualified. I was doing my best not to do anything that might ruin this for Darby. I hoped taking the cake out of the oven for Dee wasn’t a problem. I rushed back over to my spot at our counter.

When all three cakes were baked, I realized Dee hadn’t come back, but Darby’s buttercream filling was a cooked filling, and we needed to focus all of our attention to making sure it was prepared properly and not overcooked. I didn’t have time to wonder where Dee went or if she was ill.