The precise execution of layering the flavors and colors into the thin tall glasses required a steady hand and years of practice, which he had. Not a smear or shaky line was to be seen on any of his six entries.

His ego was recovering a bit from the last round.

He relaxed, and for the first time in a long time, seven years maybe, he enjoyed creating a new recipe. He examined the finished product. Almost right, but missing something. What would Kelly have done differently? He grabbed a handful of ripe pomegranate seeds and sprinkled them atop each of the desserts. You’re my secret ingredient, Kelly, and you don’t even know it.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

In round three, Kelly had made a layered shot glass dessert of gingerbread crust, a pomegranate-infused gelatin, and a light almond cheesecake, with sugar-glazed pomegranate seeds on top. She’d been so surprised to see another shot glass dessert, one even prettier than her own with the pomegranate jelly. Perfectly clear. With no bubbles, it was almost like red liquid suspended.

But it hadn’t mattered that they’d been even a little bit similar, because those two Black-Tie Affair entries were the two that had made it to the finals.

She actually had a chance of winning this.

“And then there were two,” Martin Schlipshel said over the speakers. “Welcome back to the final round of our Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. Four of the best pastry chefs around have been vying for our biggest award yet. And we’re down to the final two. The grand prize? One hundred thousand dollars and the title of Best Four Square Bake-Off Pastry Chef.”

Music filled the air, and then her kitchen went silent. It was the long lulls that made the whole thing feel like an out-of-body experience.

“Tonight’s show is in front of the live studio audience.”

Kelly could picture the big screens on either side of the stage as Martin played puppeteer with the contestants, including herself, from the stage in front of the audience.

Kelly’s arms shook all the way up to the elbows. She shifted on her feet. Somewhere she’d heard if you bent your knees slightly you wouldn’t pass out, and that would be a plus, because she could hardly bake in this final round if she was laid out on the floor.

This was the longest she’d ever gone in her life without talking to her parents. She hadn’t even been allowed to watch television. She felt so isolated. But it was only one more round.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

“Hello, finalists,” Martin said.

She smiled and said, “Hello.”

“Are you ready for the final round of Four Square Valentine’s Day Bake-Off?”

“Yes, sir.”