Pedro doesn’t recoil. “I know that you respected Gabriel’s plans for Sugar. And I understand that maybe you’re trying to keep Sugar the same way he left it to honor his memory. But I promise I won’t cross your boundaries.”

Seu Romário begins to speak, but his voice cracks, his eyes glistening with tears. Mom seems taken aback, and he turns to her. “Alice, how I regret that night Gabriel came to beg me to listen to him. I should have listened. I should have supported him. I should have supported you two.”

I pass an arm around Mom’s shoulders. Her whole frame is shaking, so I squeeze her tighter.

“All these years, you never said anything,” Mom says, her words coming out like a gasp. “I waited and waited, and you never said anything.”

“Gabriel was like a son. My son.” He looks at Pedro and me. “There’s too much hatred and misunderstanding in our families, but these kids are a breath of fresh air in this old feud. Go and enter the contest. For today, our bakeries are together once more, as they should always have been. As Gabriel hoped.” He turns to look at Mom and Dona Eulalia. “Will you allow it, Eulalia? Alice?”

Maybe it’s my imagination, but something about Dona Eulalia’s resolve melts a little bit. “I will,” she says.

But Mom still hesitates. I take a step closer. “Mom, please? Let me do this. I need your blessing.”

Mom nods, her eyes conflicted.

And I fling my arms around her. “I’ll fight to save our home,” I whisper in her ear.

“I’ll be cheering you on,” she whispers back.

This won’t be easy. It won’t be like answering an equation challenge, showing Mom my stellar report card, or winning a mathematics contest. But that’s why it will be even better. Because she’ll finally see me doing what I love the most. She’ll finally see me for who I am.

49

THURSDAY, JUNE 23

Pedro and I were so busy trying to convince our families to give us a chance, we didn’t realize that a few cameras were zooming in on us.

It’s mortifying, having our families’ fight on a big screen for everyone—contestants and judges alike—to see. We head back to our spot at the judging table, mouthing apologies to the judges. I swear I can hear them thinking, Why did we let nonmembers in again?

An awkward silence spreads over the Gastronomic Society, and after what feels like an eternity, the contest finally begins. One of the judges approaches us.

“So you’re...” She checks her clipboard. “Ah, such a young couple!”

I feel myself blushing. Pedro has gone bright red next to me, too. I try not to look at our families in the audience.