Read The Bake-Off for Free Online

expression, then crossed into the kitchen to comfort her. “How can I help you?”
    â€œI think I’m beyond help at this point.” She blew out her breath and gazed down at the liquefied berries. “What are the odds that I can pass this off as innovative, cutting-edge cuisine? Raspberry gazpacho?”
    Brandon put his arms around her and kissed her temple. “Would you like me to go buy some premade cookie dough?”
    She rested her cheek against his soft merino sweater and swallowed her pride. “Yes, please. And a big bottle of wine. I’m starting to remember why we don’t have a rolling pin.” She snatched up her new cookbook and chucked it toward the recycling bin by the back door. “No wonder that damn thing was in the clearance section.”
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    S he had just popped a tray of round, uniform cookie dough slices into the oven and collapsed on the sofa with a glass of merlot when the phone rang. Her grandmother’s name flashed across the cordless phone’s caller ID display, and Amy snatched up the receiver immediately.
    â€œIs everything okay, Grammy?” she said by way of greeting.
    â€œSplendid, darling.” Grammy Syl sounded so upbeat that Amy started to de-stress, too, as if by osmosis. “Why do you ask?”
    â€œIt’s just that it’s so late. I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
    â€œPinochle night,” Grammy explained. “I just got home.”
    Amy smiled. “You senior-center ladies put the Sex and the City girls to shame.”
    â€œPish-tosh.” Grammy clicked her tongue, but Amy could tell she was flattered. “How are my adorable great-grandchildren?”
    Amy glanced over at the ketchup handprints still smeared across the kitchen cabinets. “They’re two years old. Need I say more?”
    â€œMore important, how are you? You sound a bit run-down. Did you skip dinner tonight?”
    â€œHow do you always know these things?” Amy marveled. “Are you psychic?”
    â€œI’m your grandmother. I know all.”
    In fact, Grammy Syl had been more of a surrogate mother to Amy than a traditional grandmother. While Amy’s parents were preoccupied with “handling” her younger sister, Linnie, Amy had spent weeks at a time at Grammy’s house. Grammy Syl was the one who helped her shop for homecoming dresses, taught her how to properly apply mascara, and drove her to and from school musical rehearsals (where Amy had spent most of her time painting set pieces and flirting shamelessly with seniors).
    â€œDon’t worry about me.” Amy tucked her feet up under her on the couch. “I’m okay.”
    â€œYou’re running yourself ragged and you ought to take better care of yourself. Admit it.” Grammy’s tone brooked no argument.
    â€œMaybe a little,” Amy admitted.
    â€œI know just what would put the spring back into your step: a week all by yourself at a five-star hotel, plus lots and lots of money.”
    Amy closed her eyes and sipped the rich, fruity wine. She fantasized about sleep the way other women fantasized about Clive Owen or the shoe department at Neiman Marcus. “Mmm. Sounds heavenly.”
    â€œThen pack your bags, darling, because all that can be yours. All that and more.”
    Amy’s eyes flew open. “I don’t get it. You’re giving me my inheritance early?”
    â€œEven better, dearest. I’m giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. And all you have to do is hold a mixing bowl and look glamorous. Congratulations!” Grammy crowed. “You’re going to be my partner in the Delicious Duet Dessert Championship this year!”
    Amy threw back her head and laughed.
    The Delicious Duet Dessert Championship was, as the name suggested, a culinary competition focused on promoting wholesome family fun. Teams of two—mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, sisters, best friends,