“Perfect. Not a pig, but those pigs are adorable, like a little Yorkie, only they don’t shed and bark. They have a teacup pig farm over in Boot Creek. It’s not that far. I’ll drive!” And before she knew it, Vicki had called and made an appointment, and all of them had piled back in her Range Rover and headed to the Teensy Weensy Pig Farm an hour away.

That night Kelly had arrived home with a good dose of girlfriend advice, a perfect mani/pedi in “It’s Raining Men” even if it was a little brighter color than she’d normally wear, and had replaced Andrew with a pink-and-black spotted teacup piglet named Gray. “G.R.A.Y.” An acronym for Good Riddance Andrew York, aptly named by Patty who, with five small children, had an acronym for everything, as she talked in code around them.

Gray weighed less than a can of soda and literally fit into a teacup the day she brought him home. That was seven years ago though, and now Gray was nearly a foot tall and schlepping around a whopping thirty-eight pounds. She loved that silly pig. He’d been there for her through the good and the bad times without fail.

Leaving Gray behind for the competition wasn’t going to be easy. On the other hand, getting out of town while Andrew York was around was a bonus.

“Sara, you can’t do everything while I’m gone.”

“Why not?” Sara pulled her hand up on her hip. “You covered me for two weeks when I went to Alaska with Dalton.”

“That’s completely different.”

“No, it’s not. You can’t tell anyone where you’re going, and the more people you have covering things, the more lies you have to cover. No offense, but you’re the worst liar I know.”

That was true. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

“Just win!” Sara untied her apron and hung it on the peg outside of the office. “Besides, this is the best advertising you could get for The Cake Factory. And they’re paying you to do it. It’s a win-win for everyone. The whole town will benefit.”

Making Bailey’s Fork an attractive town to live and work in was important to her. She was proudest of the jobs she’d brought to the community. “I hope I’m not in over my head. You know most of those contestants have fancy culinary degrees and have worked for swanky resorts like the Four Seasons. I’m just a hometown girl who likes to bake.” She let out a breath. “It’s not about the money. I want to prove myself. It would be validation. I’m tired of apologizing for having learned to bake at my grandma’s and daddy’s hip.”