Mom’s eyes fill with hurt. “I already told you this. I can’t keep you from going to culinary school, but I won’t watch you ruin your future at Salt. Salt isn’t just a bakery—it represents the feud, too. I’m not letting you get any more involved.” She shakes her head. “No. Your grandmother was right. I’m selling Salt tomorrow. I must keep you safe from the Molinas.”

“Selling Salt won’t erase the way I feel.” I glance at Pedro. His mother and grandfather flank him, listening in. “Give them a chance. We all have more in common than you think. And give me a chance too, Mom. If Pedro and I win this contest, you won’t need to go to that meeting tomorrow.” I look at Dona Eulalia. “And neither will you.”

“If you win?” Mom nods at the contestants behind us. “Look around you. You’re setting yourself up to fail. I won’t let my daughter fail.” She clutches my hand.

“You’re right, I could fail today. And I’ll fail a thousand times as a baker. But I’ll keep on trying my best. Because this is what I want. This is where my heart is. Let me fight for Salt, Mom. Please? I can’t do this without your blessing.”

“Lari, what if this boy is using you—”

“Your daughter is the one using my son!” Dona Eulalia snaps at Mom. “What does this kid know about baking? My son grew up in the kitchen, while your daughter was too good for it, wasn’t she? I never saw her working at Salt!”

“Eulalia,” Seu Romário says, stopping her. He looks at Pedro, who instinctively lowers his eyes again. But, this time, Seu Romário taps his chin gently, encouraging him to keep his head high. “Just tell me one thing, filho.”

Pedro swallows. “Senhor?”

“Are you really serious about Sugar? Or is this whole thing with the Ramires girl your way of calling attention to yourself after I disagreed with your ideas?”

Pedro straightens his back. “Grandpa, I’m not a toddler throwing a tantrum. Like I said, I respect your kitchen, but wanting to change things at Sugar, applying to culinary school, or joining a contest with Lari isn’t an affront to you or our family’s traditions. When we had that fight in April, I didn’t mean to sound disrespectful when I said I didn’t want to stay stuck in the past at Sugar. I just want to learn more, and maybe with time, you’ll see that I care about Sugar just as much as—that I care just as much as Gabriel did.”

I hear the tiny gasp Mom tries to suppress at the mention of Dad.

“What did you say?” Seu Romário asks him, taking a step closer, like a challenge.