The Christmas Cookie Wars

Chapter Five

Five

“What d’you think, Mom?” Finn held up the paper he’d been working on while sitting on a stool at the checkout counter.

Markers and papers were strewn across the surface, some having rolled off onto the reclaimed-wood floors. Her younger twin definitely took after her, while neat and orderly Tate was like a miniature Thomas.

“It’s perfect.” Every Sunday, both boys accompanied her to the boutique, and she paid them minimum wage to do odd jobs like dusting and price tagging and restocking the shelves. This morning, however, Finn had been obsessing over the cookie plan. Meanwhile, Tate was over in the men’s section, refolding the sweaters because they weren’t up to his symmetrical specifications.

Melody walked to the counter and inspected the drawing more closely. “Wow. You even put in the green and gold detail.” He’d sketched swirls into the layers of frosting, though she had no idea how they would translate that level of detail into cookies. In fact, she had no idea how they would translate the eggnog and cinnamon flavors into the cookies.

Her son nodded, chewing thoughtfully on the edge of the marker cap. “I think the colors will be perfect.”

“I agree.” He’d captured the gold sparkles beautifully—exactly what she’d been picturing. However, since yesterday when she’d shaken hands with Jonathan, gambler’s remorse had started to set in. She’d never gambled in her life, and these stakes were high.

It wasn’t the cafeteria duty that had her losing sleep. It was the way her boys kept looking at her when they talked about the big Cookie Contest. How their eyes lit up with such hope. Those looks had driven her to spend most of last night surfing the Internet on her phone while she tried to look up recipes and formulate a plan for how to actually put the ingredients together into something that tasted decent.

And she hadn’t gotten very far.

The door scraped open, setting off the chimes.

“Morning, loves!” Her mother paraded in, followed by Aunt Bernice, Joan, Kels, and three other members of the newly formed cookie committee.

“Welcome, everyone!” Melody rushed to greet them. With such limited time before their next big event, she’d called an emergency meeting at the boutique. That way, she and Kels could listen for any customers to come in and they wouldn’t have to close the store. “You can all head right back to the break room.” She smiled especially wide at Nancy, Mr. Braxton’s assistant, and Deb and Tracey, two moms of kindergartners, apparently the only other moms at the school who didn’t fear Charlene’s reign of terror.

“I’ll go to the break room after I get kisses from my grandest boys!” Her mom smothered Finn and Tate.

“Me too.” Aunt Bernice opened her arms, and the boys walked into the obligatory hug knowing there was no escaping it. But she rewarded them each with a sucker from her pocket.

“Help everyone get situated back there,” Melody said to Kels. “I’ll wait for Mr. Braxton.”

Her sister winked, then herded the group to the back of the store.

“I can’t believe Mr. Braxton is coming here ,” Finn muttered. “I’d better hide my drawing so he doesn’t spy on us.”

“Yeah, he can’t find out about the cookie we’re making.” Tate eyed the door. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when we win. It’ll be the—”

The door whooshed open with the wind and the principal strode in, looking mighty out of place against the whimsical décor.

Finn immediately threw his upper body down over the paper, hiding his creation.

“Good morning, Finn. Tate.” Mr. Braxton hung out by the door, stomping the snow off his boots onto the mat.

“Good morning, Mr. Braxton,” the boys recited dully.

Melody raised her eyebrows at them. Reason number five hundred she should’ve never made that bet. Now she’d made their principal their nemesis.

“We have classified information over here.” Her older twin moved to stand between Mr. Braxton and Finn. “You’re not allowed to see our cookie plan. Sir.”

“I promise I didn’t come to spy.” He shed his coat and hung it on the rack by the door. “But, since I’m here, maybe I could take a look at that drawing and give you some pointers.” His sly grin made it clear he was teasing them, but the joke sailed over the boys’ heads.

“No way!” Finn quickly folded up the masterpiece and stuffed it into his pocket. “We don’t need your help.”

“Yeah. We’ve got this in the bag.” Tate swiveled his head to gaze at her. There went that hope again, beaming straight at her, making her stomach hurt.

“We sure do.” Her smile was showing too many teeth. She could feel it.

“Suit yourselves.” Jonathan stepped farther into the space, glancing around like he was lost.

Oh right. He’d never been into the store before. She didn’t sell any sweater vests here. “We can head to the break room.” Melody beckoned him away from the boys. “Everyone else is waiting back there.”

“Great.” Mr. Braxton walked alongside her, slowing his pace to study the clothing racks they passed.

He seemed…distracted. Or confused?

“Did you want to do some shopping?” Melody meant it as a joke but, to her utter surprise, Mr. Braxton stopped. “Maybe. After the meeting? And I might need your help. Would that be okay?”

She blinked at him a few extra times. Was he being serious? “Sure. Um, it’s fine with me.”

“Great.” He strode into the break room.

When Melody caught up, everyone had already been seated and most of them had steaming mugs of coffee in front of them too. She shot her sister a grateful smile and took her place at the head of the long table. “Thank you all for coming. I know it’s a bit unorthodox to meet here instead of at the school.”

“It is much easier to meet in the conference room or library.” Mr. Braxton pulled a small leather-bound notebook out of his pocket. “But this will do for today.”

Well, good. She was glad she had his approval. Melody gave her head a slight shake. “Anyway, I thought we should touch base quickly about the Cookie Contest since it’s only days away.” A burst of panic squeezed her throat. She had to get that recipe perfected ASAP! “As of now, we have five competitors.” Her and Jonathan, of course. She’d also talked Chester, the coffee shop owner, into entering by bribing him with the silk pashmina he’d had his eye on for a while now. Thankfully, her mother and Bernice had roped in two friends from the next town over. It seemed no one in their community was overly excited to go up against Mr. Braxton. “I’ve been in touch with each contestant, letting them know they need to bring along three dozen cookies for judg—”

“If I may, I had a thought,” Mr. Braxton interrupted. “What if this year, instead of everyone bringing their cookies from home, we actually made them during the competition. In real time?”

Melody’s mouth went dry. That was a terrible idea. How could she put this nicely? “That sounds like a lot of work, and we don’t have much time to pull off such a large-scale change.” Why did he want to change things up? Now? Days before the competition? Did he think she was going to cheat and buy cookies? Okay, the thought might have crossed her mind, but she’d never actually do that! “I don’t think a live competition would work.” For her.

“Why not?” He leaned back in his chair, looking more casual and comfortable than she’d ever seen him. “The school has a huge kitchen—plenty of oven space. And with only five of us there’ll be plenty of room to set up prep stations in the gym.” He seemed to aim the argument at her. “I think a live competition would really draw people in. We could charge more for entry that way.”

“I love it.” Joan gazed dreamily at Jonathan across the table.

Melody wished she were close enough to give the woman a gentle kick under the table.

“We need all the attendees we can get,” Nancy agreed. “Everyone loves a good competition.”

“It sounds fun!” Deb added. “A live competition like The Great British Baking Show !”

Not exactly like that because Melody couldn’t bake. She looked from one person’s smile to the next. She couldn’t do this. She got stressed enough baking in the privacy of her own kitchen! How would she ever be able to measure and mix and roll and decorate with a hundred people watching her? She tried to send her sister a telepathic message. Come up with a reason this won’t work!

But Kels was smiling and nodding along too. “I think that’ll put the perfect spin on an old tradition.”

“It’s settled, then.” Her mother drove the final nail into the coffin. “Oh, what fun. Can I be the host? With a microphone and everything?”

“I don’t see why not.” Jonathan looked to her. Because she was supposed to be the president here, yet he was the one making all the decisions, coming in here with all these great ideas that he should’ve run by her first.

It was too late now. She couldn’t pull a Charlene. “Sure, Mom. You can be the host.”

“Great.” Mr. Braxton jotted some notes. “We can set up the stations in the front of the gym and add tables and chairs for the spectators.”

Wasn’t he full of extra good ideas today? Melody tried to loosen her jaw so she didn’t glower at him.

“Oh, I bet Chester would bring his mobile coffee and hot cocoa station and sell drinks to the audience,” Bernice said. “I’ll ask him during poker tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” It appeared this group didn’t need her at all. Maybe she could resign and withdraw from the cookie competition.

“I’ll talk to Ms. Sanderson about using the kitchen.” Mr. Braxton added another note in his leather-bound book. “And I’ll have the building engineer set up the tables for us.” His gaze fell on Melody. “You’ll contact all of the contestants and let them know about the change?”

“I guess I will.” Since he seemed to be the one assigning roles. “Now that that’s settled…” She’d better take back the reins before Mr. Braxton got any other brilliant ideas that would make her life harder. “Does anyone have any questions about the plans for the Cookie and Cocktail Crawl or Cookie Daze?” She’d sent them a lengthy email—yes, email!—two days ago about her ideas for making some changes to those events. Mr. Braxton must be so impressed.

“I thought everything looked great.” He had his gaze glued to his phone now. “There are some good ideas here.”

Murmurs of agreement went around the table.

“I haven’t read the email yet,” Kels admitted.

A sister after her own heart. “That’s okay. We can talk about the other events at our meeting next week. I wanted to keep this one brief anyway.” She needed all the time she could get to formulate a plan for their cookie. Especially now. “Let’s adjourn until then.”

“Sounds good to me.” Mr. Braxton stuffed his notebook back into his pocket. “See you all on Saturday.”

The words held an ominous ring in Melody’s ears. She took her time collecting mugs, carting them to the sink.

Deb and Tracey ambled out the door first, talking excitedly about watching a live competition. Nancy and Mr. Braxton exited next, leaving Melody standing in the break room with her family members.

“Have you figured out your cookie for the contest yet?” Aunt Bernice brought her another mug.

“I mean, Finny’s drawing is beautiful, but do you have a recipe?” Her mother stared at her as though seeing an impending disaster. “Have you ever tried to make eggnog crème br?lée cinnamon cookies?”

“Not yet. We’re still working on that part.” God, they were so screwed. “Maybe one of you should enter the contest too. Or better yet, all three of you.” That would take some of the attention off her—

“Are you kidding?” Bernice scoffed. “No one’s going to beat Jonathan anyway.” She didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. “Not only do his cookies always taste the best, he’s also got the whole sexy librarian look going for him.”

Her sister nodded but then her sheepish expression backpedaled. “Not that you’re not sexy too, Melly. You’re just not Jonathan Braxton sexy.”

“I couldn’t care less about being sexy.” She was lucky to get a shower and swipe on some mascara once in a while. Melody dumped the last dregs out of the coffeepot and rinsed it in the sink. “This contest is supposed to be about baking. Not about how we look during said baking.” She already knew what her persona would be in front of the crowd—harried, stressed, mediocre baker.

“What was it Jonathan made last year?” Mom tilted her head toward Kelsey’s, as she often did when they had to share thinking powers.

“Something with a jelly filling, wasn’t it?” Bernice asked.

“No, no. That was the year before.” Her mother tapped at her forehead. “Ah yes! He made those delicious butter cookies dipped in chocolate.”

Kelsey moaned. “They were divine .”

That seemed to be everyone’s favorite adjective to describe Mr. Braxton’s cookies. Talking to these three was not helping her confidence.

“It doesn’t matter what Mr. Braxton made last year.” Finn marched into the break room. “We’re still going to beat him. We have to beat him. Mom made a bet.”

“A bet?” Mom, Aunt Bernice, and Kels said it at the exact same time, their full attention on Melody.

“You made a bet with Mr. Braxton ?” If Melody had been regretting that decision earlier, now she truly hated it, especially seeing the blatant disbelief on her mother’s face. What had she been thinking?

“Yep,” Tate said proudly, following his brother to the table, where they both plopped down. “If we win the contest Mom’s gonna make him wear nicer clothes for a week, and if he wins she has to volunteer in the cafeteria the last day of school.”

“But that’s not gonna happen,” Finn assured them. “She won’t have to work in the cafeteria because our cookies will win.”

Her mother was still too busy gaping at Melody to hear him. “You’re going to dress Mr. Braxton?”

Her sister laughed. “Amazing!”

“I’m not going to actually dress him,” she clarified. “I’m going to be his fashion consultant. Only for a week. I’m sure he’s fully capable of getting dressed himself.” Melody peeked out into the store to make sure no one was listening to them talk about Mr. Braxton’s sexy factor. He was still there—talking to Nancy by the registers. “The bet is no big deal,” she said quietly. Heck, maybe he wouldn’t even hold her to it. They’d only been joking.

“No big deal?” Her sister snorted. “Have you ever volunteered in the cafeteria?”

“Nope.” She’d pretty much done every other volunteer job in that school, but she’d always avoided the lunchroom.

“She won’t have to.” Frustration broke through Finn’s words. “We have a plan. Remember?” He pulled the drawing out of his pocket and held it up.

Melody couldn’t even look at the picture. The boys might’ve already forgotten how her blob wheels had turned out, but she sure hadn’t.

“It’s a very pretty drawing.” Aunt Bernice patted Finn’s nest of curls. “But people at the Cookie Contest will judge on taste, I can promise you that.”

“And your cookies didn’t exactly go over well at the swap.” She could always count on her mother to keep her humble.

“This will be different.” They had to win. She would pull all-nighters for the entire week if she had to. She would make fifty batches until they had the perfect cookie. No matter what, she would not let her boys down. They were counting on her. “All right. I’ve got to get back to work.” Melody shooed her aunt, sister, and mom out of the break room, but she stopped the second she caught sight of Jonathan wandering through the juniors section.

“I have to run and pick up Gen.” Kels’s eyes were wide. “I’m assuming you can handle the customer?” She nodded toward the principal.

“Yeah. Sure.” Melody had completely forgotten he’d already requested her help. “I’ll take care of him.” What? “ It. ” She cleared her throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

Smiling, her sister rushed out of the boutique.

“Are you shopping?” Leave it to her mother to embarrass someone who already looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Kind of?” Mr. Braxton rubbed his forehead. “I need something for my daughter. For Christmas.” He turned to Melody, looking slightly puppylike and vulnerable. “I kind of don’t have any ideas. I thought maybe you could help me pick something out.”

Was he being serious? Or maybe he was playing her so he could spy like Finn had suspected?

Everyone seemed to be waiting for her response—her mother and Aunt Bernice especially, on wide-eyed pins and needles.

“I’d be happy to help.” He couldn’t fake that deer-in-the-headlights vibe, could he? Maybe. She’d have to proceed with caution. Preferably without an audience. Melody directed a glance at her mother over her shoulder. “Weren’t you two on your way out?”

“Nope.” She held her ground by the counter.

“We have nowhere to be.” Aunt Bernice at least wandered into the women’s section. “I needed to do some Christmas shopping myself.”

Uh-huh. She’d already bought half the merchandise here.

“Wonderful idea.” Her mom scooted in that direction as well. “I can help you pick some things out.”

At least they would pretend to be distracted. “So you need a Christmas present for your daughter?”

Mr. Braxton seemed to hesitate, glancing from her mom to her aunt. “I can come back if this is a bad time.”

“Oh no. Now is fine.” Having other people around was better than being alone with him. After the cookie swap she didn’t know how to act. They’d gone from disagreeing to working together to almost flirting. They weren’t friends, exactly. But he wasn’t just the boys’ principal anymore either.

Whew. Someone must have turned up the thermostat in here. Melody resisted the urge to fan her face. “We don’t have any other customers yet, so I’m all yours.” Nope. That didn’t come out right. “I mean, I’m not yours .” Dear God, bail her out of this conversation now. Melody shed her cardigan and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I just meant, um…so what kinds of things does Ainsley like?”

“She seems different every time I see her, you know?” He peered around at the dresses and sweaters and racks of pants surrounding them like he didn’t know where to start. “She’s fifteen and she’s really into clothes. Usually I give her a gift card, but I figured since you know so much, maybe I can actually get her something decent this year. It’s more fun to wrap up presents so she can open something.” He still looked unsure.

“I totally agree.” Melody was already going over ensembles in her head. This she could do. “Do you know what size she wears?”

“Her mom sent me her measurements.” He held out his phone so she could read the screen.

Melody did the calculations in her head. “It looks like she’d be between a four and six.” She flipped through a few hangers. There were so many good options. “Does she like to dress up? Or is she into more comfortable, casual clothes?”

“She likes to dress up.” He started tapping on his phone again. “And she can take hours getting ready to go out for dinner. Here are some pictures from when I saw her last month.” He held out his phone while he scrolled through a few candid shots of him with Ainsley.

“She’s beautiful.” And the girl had one of the biggest, brightest smiles she’d ever seen. Melody could see her father in her dark eyes, and she had that same small dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. Without meaning to, she also studied him in the pictures. In one of them they were both laughing. He looked so happy.

Melody noticed that her mother and Aunt Bernice had worked their way to the juniors section too. “You and Ainsley seem close.” She moved to another rack near the wall, as far away from their prying ears as she could get.

“We are.” Jonathan didn’t elaborate, instead scrolling through the pictures again himself. “She’s growing up,” he finally said. “I can’t believe she’ll be driving herself around in six months.”

“That’s terrifying.” She couldn’t imagine. Watching her boys give up on Santa Claus had been traumatic enough. She had no idea what would happen to her when they drove away and left her at home.

“I know she’ll be a good driver.” Jonathan pocketed his phone. “But I still can’t quite get my head around it. She’s growing up too fast.”

“I know the feeling.” Melody spotted her boys, who were now refolding the jeans. When she caught sight of her mom watching her and Jonathan while she elbowed Bernice, Melody killed the small talk and got back to business. “We just created this new line.” She pulled a black embroidered sweater off the rack and held it up for him to see. She was especially proud of the brightly colored flowers along the hemline. “It’s been selling really well for us with the teens.” And from the pictures she’d seen, she already knew it would fit his daughter perfectly.

“That looks like something she’d like.” Jonathan took the hanger from her and inspected the garment. “She’s a lot different than me. She’s outgoing and fun and…vibrant.”

“You’re…” She absolutely couldn’t call him vibrant. “ Fun too.” Probably. Just not at school. She’d seen some promising glimpses past his dryness at the cookie swap, though. He had a playful side. He just didn’t show it very often.

Anyway.

She needed to stay focused on clothing here. “If you want to get her a whole outfit, we can pair the sweater with these pants.” She rummaged through a rack until she found a four in the bright red wide-leg pants she’d just unpacked last week and held them up next to the sweater.

Jonathan stared at them, his eyes wide. “Those are…colorful.”

“She’ll love them,” Melody assured him. Yes, they were loud but they made such a statement. “Oh!” She veered into the women’s section. “And this will bring the whole outfit together.” She selected the plaid pashmina with fringed edges. “I think this will be perfect for her.” She took everything she had bundled in her arms and laid it all out on the table outside the fitting room.

Jonathan took his time looking the ensemble over, a thoughtful crease running through his forehead. “It looks nice together. I think she’ll like it.” He sounded surprised. “Did you design all of this yourself?”

“I did.” She gathered up the clothes under her arm and led him to the checkout counter before he could change his mind. This might very well be the best gift a father had ever gotten for his teen daughter. She almost wished she could be there to see Ainsley open it on Christmas morning.

“How do you get your design ideas?” He dug out his wallet and removed his credit card.

“They just come to me.” She carefully selected their branded tissue paper and wrapped the sweater first. “I’ll see colors or textures or art and just get these images in my head.” In fact, she could see about ten different ensembles that would work much better for him than the sweater vests and sensible button-downs. “Would you like a sneak peek at what you’ll be wearing when you lose the Cookie Contest?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m relatively confident that won’t be necessary.” Jonathan turned his credit card between his fingers, eyeing her. “You’ve been working on your cookie, I take it?”

“Somewhat.” She could feign confidence as well as anyone. “But I can’t share any details, I’m afraid. The boys have sworn me to secrecy.” She wrapped up Ainsley’s fun new pants. “What about you? What’re you making for the contest?”

Jonathan leaned an elbow into the counter. “I’m doing a gingersnap this year,” he murmured after a sideways glance.

“A gingersnap ?” A laugh snuck past her better judgment. Maybe she didn’t have to worry so much after all.

Jonathan straightened and glared. “What’s wrong with a gingersnap?”

“I don’t know.” Melody quickly wrapped up the scarf and then added up his total. “For a contest a gingersnap seems a little…basic. There’s nothing special about them.”

“Exactly. But everyone loves a good gingersnap,” Jonathan insisted. “Trust me. This cookie I’m making won in three different magazine competitions my grandma submitted to.” He straightened his collar. “So maybe there’s nothing wrong with the basics. Maybe people even like basic because it’s familiar.”

“Or maybe people will want to try something new this year.” She wasn’t in the principal’s office now. She could argue with him all she wanted.

“I guess we’ll see.” He craned his neck to look at his total before he handed over his credit card.

“I guess everyone will see.” Melody couldn’t help herself. “Now that we’re doing a live competition.” She was fully aware that her tone bordered on sardonic but she didn’t care.

Mr. Braxton studied her in his methodical way. “You didn’t want to do the live competition?”

Was he really surprised? “It’ll just be way more stressful baking in front of everyone like that.” She scanned his credit card and handed it back to him.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He’d frozen, and clear regret outlined his mouth. “I thought it would be fun—that people would enjoy watching. I didn’t mean to force you into it.”

“You didn’t force me into anything.” She’d agreed, after all. “Never mind. It’ll be fine.” She placed the wrapped garments in one of her signature red bags and handed it to him. “We’ll still beat you.”

“Good luck with that.” Something sparked in his eyes. “Thanks for the help.” He slipped his coat back on and peeked in the bag. “I never would’ve picked out something like this for her. But I think she’ll love it.”

“I hope so.” She knew so, but that sounded arrogant. Melody walked him to the door.

Mr. Braxton hesitated before stepping outside. “I guess I’ll see you at the contest.”

“We’ll be there.”

All they had to do was beat a gingersnap cookie.

How hard could that be?