SAVANNAH
After the competition is finished and we all return to the house, everyone gathers in the courtyard to eat lunch. We aren’t eating as one big group like we had done before. Everybody is in their own areas with their new friends, chatting and eating chicken salad sandwiches that have been catered for us once again. A big bowl of potato salad and pasta salad is sitting on a long table in the corner. Of course, they can’t leave it out here long because it would get too hot, so everybody scoops what they want onto their plates and sits down.
My fellow contestants are chatting and laughing, which is a stark contrast to the morning's competitive atmosphere. Of course, Sophia is still beaming from her win. She was gracious and grateful when she accepted the round of congratulations that came her way. Her truffles really were beautiful. Watching her, I felt a mix of admiration, but it also kindled a fire in my own competitive spirit. I want to feel that rush of achievement, too.
I settle on the sofa outside next to Maggie, who is crunching on a potato chip when I sit down.
"You did well today, Savannah. I liked your idea of the seasons.”
"Thank you," I say, my stomach tightening a little. “I wish the judges had liked it. I loved your little bow-tie truffles. Maybe it’s just me, but it's hard not to feel outclassed here,” I whisper.
Maggie laughs. "Imagine what it feels like to be sixty-five years old and a self-taught pastry chef. I’m sure everybody sees me as the easy one to beat. But, you know what? We're here to grow," she says, shrugging her shoulders.
That might be easy for her to say. Maggie has already lived most of her life. She doesn't have anyone to support but herself. She's not trying to start a new business or make a name for herself in the culinary world. She’s just having fun and doing something she’s always wanted to do. I’m doing this so Sadie and I can finally start our adult lives. So we can hopefully get a leg up in this crazy world.
"I suppose so. It's just hard because this competition is very important to me."
"Oh, I imagine it's important to all of us," Maggie says, smiling.
"I know you're right, and I'm glad to be here. A lot of people probably applied."
“It's just the first competition. Nothing to worry about if you didn't win. You did well, and that's all you can hope for."
"Why did you decide to come here, Maggie?" I ask, leaning back against the cushion and taking a bite of my sandwich.
"What, because I'm old?" she asks, laughing.
"No, I just meant..."
"Oh, it's okay. I was just messing with you. You know, when you get my age, and you've lost a spouse, and you're trying to figure out where your life is going, sometimes you do crazy things like apply for reality shows."
I smile. "So it was just a crazy thing you did on a whim?"
"I suppose you could say that. I'm a lot older than you, and sometimes people my age feel like their lives are over. Like they can't do anything else but sit around and wait to learn to knit, do crossword puzzles, or go to weekly bingo night."
I smile. "You don't strike me as somebody who will sit back and wait."
"No, I suppose I'm not. I want to squeeze every ounce of fun out of my life. After all, many people would’ve loved to make it to my age. I want to cherish every moment, even the cruddy ones. And I suppose I’d like to inspire women of my age to get up and do scary things. So why did you come here, Savannah?" She takes a long sip of her sweet tea and then puts it on the table beside her.
"I came here because I feel responsible for my sister."
"Your sister? How old is she?"
"She's twenty.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you feel responsible for an adult?"
"We didn't have the best upbringing. Our mother was sort of, well, it's hard to explain. But when she passed away, I became Sadie’s guardian. She was just twelve years old then. I haven't been able to help her get the funds to go to college, so when this came along, I thought it was a good opportunity, and she encouraged me to do it."
"Ah, so you really do have a big reason to be here."
"Yes, I do," I say, looking down at my sandwich before taking another bite.
Maggie turns her head and looks over toward the pool table, where Connor and Lainey are outwardly flirting with each other. They're laughing loudly, a bit too loud and forced. Their body language is obviously flirtatious, and Connor keeps looking in my direction.
Maggie notices my gaze lingering and then raises an eyebrow. "What's the story there?" she asks, nodding toward Connor.
I hesitate, but then I think, why hold back? "Connor and I used to date pretty seriously. It ended just a few weeks ago. It wasn't the best breakup."
Her expression softens. "Ah, I see. And who broke up with whom?”
"I broke up with him. He was always bothered that my sister was around and that I was so focused on making her life better. He didn't like it, and so I had to break up with him."
"So, he's over there trying to show off with Lainey?"
"Yeah, it's complicated. He never really understood why I work as hard as I do and why I need to push myself to help my sister. He thought my dreams were just hobbies."
"Even though he's a pastry chef, too?"
I laugh. "Yes, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it? He's never really loved doing this as much as I did. He wanted us to get married soon, and he wanted me to stay home and raise kids while he worked. I wanted to live out my dreams. I want kids one day, but I feel like a woman can do both, you know?”
"Well, I think you're doing exactly what you need to be doing. Don't you let anyone, Connor or anybody else, make you doubt your path. You're here for a reason, Savannah. You hold onto that."
For a moment, it feels like motherly advice. She pats my knee, which makes me ache for the type of mother Maggie probably would be. I never had that kind of mother, and I will always wish I did. I'm grateful to have made a friend in the first few days of this competition because something tells me that I will need it.
* * *
RHETT
Nothing will wake you from a dead sleep like hearing Dan's booming voice come over the speakers throughout the house. I'm sure I jumped two feet up off the bed early this morning when he said we needed to meet in the competition kitchen in an hour.
Then there are all of us running in and out of the communal bathrooms, trying to get ready. He said that we wouldn’t be officially cooking or doing any kind of challenge, so we could wear casual clothes. That meant my normal T-shirt, shorts, and athletic shoes. It’s pretty much my uniform when I’m not dressed for my official duties.
I make it downstairs into the kitchen and see everybody else already standing there. Savannah looks like she's going out for a summer picnic, wearing a red sundress and white sandals. Her long, red hair cascades over her shoulders, and she put on red lipstick this morning. It's a little distracting, I have to say.
She's definitely the most attractive woman in the house, although she probably doesn't realize that. I'm sure she thinks it's Lainey, the one who looks like a Barbie doll—and not even a good Barbie doll—like some kind of off-brand Barbie doll that had too much plastic surgery and lip fillers.
"Contestants," Dan says in his loud voice yet again, startling me and probably getting me caught staring at Savannah, "today, we're going to be doing something as a community service, but not the bad kind that you get when you've had too many speeding tickets," he says, winking at the camera like he's funny. He's not funny, although he seems to think he is. He should keep his day job, whatever that is, probably a pharmacist or an insurance salesman or something like that, because he is definitely not a stand-up comedian after hours.
"You're going to break into teams of three and bake your favorite cookies. Really, go all out. We will be going on a little field trip to the local assisted living center later today, where you will deliver the cookies to the residents and then spend some time with them."
Spend time with people at the assisted living center? What kind of competition is this? I thought we would be cooking, perfecting our art, and showcasing our skills. I know we don't have our main challenge until later in the week, but is this the kind of thing we will be doing to fill the time? I was looking forward to just relaxing, playing pool, practicing, and doing some workshops. Now, I have to do community service like a criminal?
I look over at Savannah, who is smiling from ear to ear and talking with Maggie. The two of them seem to have gotten closer. Maggie is really the only person I ever see Savannah talking to. Then I glance over at Connor, who, of course, is watching Savannah and snickering with Lainey. It's like middle school. I don't know what this guy's problem is, but it's really starting to get on my nerves.
Again, I have to remind myself that this is a competition. And what do I care if he's planning to sabotage Savannah somehow? That's just one less person I have to beat in the end. And I have no doubt that I will beat each and every one of these people. That's who I am. That's how I do things. I don't allow myself to fall into the bottom tier. I am at the top of what I do.
Sure, maybe I'm not getting recognized for it yet, and I'm not working at the job that I would like to work, but I know I have the skills. I know I can do this. And every one of these people will have to go home for that to happen, no matter how much I might grow to like some of them.
I don't make friends easily. I never have. I've always felt like I was competing with people, which makes for very difficult friendships. Sometimes I miss it, although I don't know that you can really miss something you've never had. But I do see other guys hanging around together, playing golf, hanging out at a bar, having a drink, and just talking about life. I've never really done that. I've always kept to myself, done my work, excelled at whatever it was I was doing, but I guess I just don't trust anybody enough to call them my friend.
I don't even know what it would be like to have a best friend, so I suppose I have missed that in my life. I guess when somebody doesn't have the approval of their own family, it makes it really hard to trust outsiders.
I don't want to think too hard today. These thoughts tend to take me down a dark path, so for now, I have to do what Dan says I have to do: choose two other partners to bake cookies together with like a bunch of ten-year-olds. Cookies—not even something hard. Cookies are the most basic thing a pastry chef should be able to make. If you can't make good cookies, you really should quit while you're, well… behind.
I suddenly see everybody scrambling and realize they're picking partners. I haven't really connected with anyone here yet. The only person I actually know is Savannah, and she hates me, so I'm at a loss for who I'm supposed to pick. Before I can think much further about it, I realize that Savannah and Maggie are standing alone in the center of the room while everybody else is already paired up.
Savannah glances over at me. I can tell that she wants to be my partner just about as much as she would want to hang out with a rabid raccoon this afternoon, but we don't have much choice, so I walk over and stand beside them without a word.
"I guess we're a group," I say without making eye contact.
Maggie chuckles. "I guess we are.” She reminds me of my grandmother, the one I used to bake with and who accepted me for who I am. "I suppose they think I'm too old to be any kind of a partner. Although I don't know why they wouldn't have picked you two. You did great in the reward challenge, Savannah.”
"Thank you, Maggie," Savannah says, smiling and then looking away from me again. I can't stop glancing over at her dress. It hugs her petite form in all the right places. I’m attracted to her, but I think that’s just because I’m a man. It’s hard not to notice a beautiful woman, especially one who doesn’t seem to know she’s beautiful. We couldn't be any more different. She's all sunshine and rainbows, and I'm all, well, reality. That's what I am, just one big heaping dose of reality. It's probably why I'm not tons of fun at parties.
"Contestants, choose your station and go ahead and start talking about what kind of cookies you're going to make. You have ninety minutes to get your cookies ready. Make as many as you can. The assisted living home can definitely use them. Anything they don't use today will be frozen for use in the days and weeks to come. Remember, this is a service you're doing for the community, so try to think about the people that are going to eat these cookies and what would be appropriate."
We walk over to our station, and Maggie looks at us.
"I think he's saying don't do nuts."
"Don't do nuts?" Savannah asks.
"Well, as an older person, I can tell you that nuts can be challenging for older people; those with dentures, maybe people with allergies, digestive issues, swallowing problems.”
"Okay, okay," I say, waving my hand. “We don't really need to go into everybody's medical history. No nuts. Remember, we’re being timed.”
Maggie turns and looks at me. "What crawled up your hind end today?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're a nice-looking young man. Don't be such a grouch," she says before turning back to the mixing bowl in front of her and gathering a whisk and a spoon from the other side of the counter.
Savannah looks over at me, a quirk of a smile. "Well, I guess she told you."
I nod. "I suppose she did."
* * *
SAVANNAH
The whole kitchen is buzzing with activity, but at our station, we are having a small culinary debate between me and Rhett, of course. Maggie quietly observes as she preps our baking tools. The smell of sugar and flour floats through the air from each of the ovens while we stand here staring at each other, me with my hands on my hips.
"I really think that we should stick with chocolate chip cookies," I say, reaching for the large container of chocolate chips and holding them up as if Rhett doesn't know what they are. "They're a classic, beloved, and we can churn out a bunch of them really quickly."
He raises an eyebrow. "Savannah, ‘beloved’ doesn't have to mean boring. We're here to impress, not just participate. How about we make something a little more distinctive, like hazelnut-flavored white chocolate caramel cookies?"
I put my hands back on my hips again, tilting my head. "Rhett, this is not a competition. This is community service. We're supposed to be making these residents smile, not trying to overwhelm them with over-the-top flavors. They're not going to be judging us."
He scoffs, crossing his arms. "Everything is a competition, and we’re always being judged. If you're not cooking to impress, you're just standing around stirring."
"Well, that's a rather cynical way to look at baking for a good cause," I say. I scoop up a handful of chocolate chips and let them cascade from my fingers back into the container. "Besides, do you really think that we have time to fuss over your fancy cookies with caramel and whatever else it was that you said?" The corners of his mouth twitch, a telltale sign that he's holding back a smirk. I very rarely see a smile out of Rhett.
"I think you might just be scared of a little challenge, Sunny."
Maggie looks at me like she doesn't understand why he has suddenly started calling me by a different name.
"Oh, believe me, it's not a challenge," I say, leaning closer. "It's the chaos when you realize we've bitten off more than we can chew, literally and figuratively."
Before he can say anything else, Maggie steps between us, her voice slicing right through our banter. "Kids, we’re baking cookies today, correct? Or is this going to go on for a few more hours?” She looks back and forth between us, a look that was a mix of exasperation and amusement.
Rhett and I exchange a glance. "You know what? Maggie's right," I say. "Let's just find a middle ground. How about we do a little bit of both? Make some chocolate chip cookies with caramel or hazelnut as a second flavor. That way, we can cater to all tastes."
Rhett sighs and nods. "Fine, but I'm making sure those hazelnut cookies are the star of the show."
"Right. And I'll make sure that the chocolate chip cookies remind everyone just how great simplicity can taste," I say, turning around.
Maggie laughs, shaking her head as she measures the flour. "You two remind me of an old married couple, always bickering but wouldn't know what to do without each other."
Rhett and I both exchange quick, embarrassed glances. We return to work without talking because what else is there to say?