The Christmas Cookie Wars

Chapter Eight

Eight

There had to be something else she could do.

Since arriving at the boutique, Melody had already dusted every nook and cranny of the space, gone through all of the inventory, and helped eight customers find the perfect Christmas gifts, and she’d even resorted to cleaning the toilet to keep herself busy.

Yet she still couldn’t shake the memory of kicking Jonathan out of her house. More accurately, she couldn’t shake the image of the perceptive dawning in his eyes when he’d realized she didn’t want him there. She hadn’t been able to face him since. Each day, she’d dropped the boys off at school—fifteen minutes early—in the car pool line so she wouldn’t run into him.

But she couldn’t avoid him forever. The contest would start in two hours. Melody peeked into the break room, where the boys were playing video games next to their cooler of supplies.

Her stomach squeezed. Instead of being nervous about the contest, she was nervous about seeing Jonathan after their last awkward exchange. Was he upset? Embarrassed? Had he written her off?

Why did she care so much? That was the hardest question to answer.

Melody pulled her phone out of her pocket and studied the screen. She should text him. Break the ice. A good president would check in with the school contact to make sure things were all set for a big event, right?

Before she could overthink it, Melody fired off a text to Jonathan’s personal number. Everything all set for today? Need anything else from me?

She went to put the phone back into her pocket but it dinged. He’d already replied?

All’s well. Don’t think so.

Hmmm. If her sister had sent that text, she’d know Kels was mad about something. Every text they exchanged had at least three emojis. But Jonathan wasn’t overly effusive, so she shouldn’t read into anything. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she say something else? Like See you soon ? Or I’m looking forward to —

The phone dinged again.

BTW—I’m sorry for barging in on you three the other night. I hope I didn’t upset you.

Oh geez. Guilt dislodged her nerves. He probably thought she hated him, when in reality the ache of Thomas’s absence had caught her off guard. That happened less frequently these days, but there was still no predicting when it would come. I’m the one who’s sorry. I was tired. What a lousy excuse. Not to mention a flat-out lie. Grasping at courage, she typed, You did nothing wrong. It was nice of you to help. As much as I love the holidays, this time of year can be really hard for me, that’s all.

A pause stretched on, deflating her heart, but then those three promising dots appeared. He was typing.

It can be hard for me too. A rose emoji. A rose emoji! Her pulse kicked up, heat spiraling through her chest. She opened the emoji menu to find something she could send back to him. Definitely not the eggplant she’d sent to her sister last night! Kels had given her a hard time about that one when all Melody was trying to say was that they needed to go out for eggplant parmigiana at their favorite Italian restaurant soon. Of course, her darling sister had taken the conversation to a whole different level. (Insert rolling eyes emoji.)

Her eyes scanned the others she’d used recently. She couldn’t send Jonathan the fireball or the horrified face or the heart eyes or the crying emoji she’d sent to her mom when she’d texted pictures of her flour fight with the boys. Hmmmm…

How’d the cookies turn out anyway? came in before she could settle on something appropriate.

Perfect. That was an easy answer. Actually really good. Thanks to you. He had rescued them from certain disaster and now she could thank him properly. You definitely saved the day.

Nah. You were close. You would’ve figured it out on your own.

Ha! Little did he know. Grinning at the phone, Melody leaned into the checkout counter to reply. I can assure you I wouldn’t have figured it out. Not without your help. So thank you. I really appreciate… No, no, no. She deleted those last three words. As the boys always told her, texts were supposed to be short and simple.

You’re welcome. I’m still going to beat you today, though. This time he included the man shrugging emoji.

She laughed out loud. Are you serious right now?

I’m just saying…I hope you like working in the cafeteria. Might want to bring some earplugs. It’s loud this time of year. Big smiling face emoji.

Oh, this man. He knew exactly how to bait her. They might not have a shot at winning but he wasn’t the only one who excelled in the art of trash talking. Whatever! She added a thoughtful emoji. You’re going to look GREAT in polka dots.

Jonathan sent back six horrified face emojis in a row. You said nothing too wild.

Melody giggled again. Sheesh. He had her giggling . Can’t help it. I’m pretty wild. She waited, her eyes fixed on the screen, a breath suspended in her lungs.

One of your best qualities IMO.

Her heart took a sharp dive. In his opinion? Jonathan had opinions about her? Good opinions? Or maybe she was reading too much into their banter. I thought you didn’t like wild.

The seconds ticked by too slowly. Did he think she was fishing for compliments? She wasn’t. She simply wondered if he could ever see her as anything other than a harried single mom who was always running late.

Wild has grown on me a lot lately , Jonathan finally typed. You’re expanding my horizons. Do you really think I’d look good in polka dots?

Another giggle snuck out. You’d look good in pretty much anything. Her fingers tapped out the words automatically, but she couldn’t send that! It might be true but it was too flirty. Too forward. What had come over her?

“Hey, Mom.”

Tate snuck up behind her and Melody nearly dropped her phone. “Oh no, whoops.” Her hands fumbled with it.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Um. Uh.” She stared at the screen in horror. The message had sent! You’d look good in pretty much anything. Not only that…somehow she’d added three eggplant emojis onto the end of it!

Her lungs churned out panicked breaths. “How do you recall a text?” She snapped up her head to implore Tate. “ Can you recall a text?”

“Yep. Lemme see your phone.” Her son held out his hand, but Melody kept it out of reach.

“No! Just tell me how to do it. Please!” Did Tate even know what an eggplant represented to a certain segment of the population? She’d never even used it except in the context of talking about real food!

“Okay,” her son said calmly. “First, you have to make sure the text hasn’t been read.”

She squinted at the screen. Read was displayed loud and clear. “It says ‘Read.’?” Oh God. Jonathan had read that?

Tate shrugged. “Then it’s too late.”

“Yeah. Thanks. I got that.” Melody couldn’t seem to swallow. Her throat was too dry. She continued staring at her phone but there were no dots. No replies. She’d sent three eggplant emojis to Jonathan Braxton and now he had nothing to say to her.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Tate gazed at her with measured concern. “What was that text about anyway?”

“Nothing!” She switched her phone to airplane mode and shoved it into her back pocket. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She’d simply pretend it hadn’t happened and she’d never look at her texts again. She’d tell everyone that she no longer believed in texting people and that they needed to call her from now on. She was clearly not qualified to text anyone. Ever.

“Hey, look.” Tate pointed to the windows. “There’s Nonna and Aunt Kelsey. That means it’s almost time to go!” He bounded away, calling for his brother.

Melody slipped behind the register. She wasn’t going anywhere. She couldn’t. She’d have her mom tell everyone she’d gotten appendicitis or something…

“Who’s ready to win a Cookie Contest?” her mother called as she made a grand entrance, all decked out in her Christmas finest. Melody swore her mother had owned that tinsel-laden sweater since the early nineties. The sweater, along with her Christmas light bulb necklace, had a certain vintage charm.

“Remember, it’s not about winning,” Kels said, shooting their mother a look. “It’s supposed to be all in good fun.”

“Right. But my grandboys are destined to take home the crown today.” She frowned at Melody, who hadn’t moved yet. “Come on, sweets. We’ve gotta hit the road now or you won’t have time to set up.”

“I can’t go yet!” The shock of what had just transpired still had her volume up. “I’m having a crisis.” She searched the space around her. “It’s an…inventory problem. You should head over with the boys, and Kels and I will be there as soon as we can.”

Kels hurried to the counter. “What kind of inventory problem? I checked the online system this morning and everything was fine.”

“Something just came up.” She raised her eyebrows sharply to stanch any more questions.

“Fine, fine, fine.” Their mother scurried to the back of the space. “Oh, boys!” she sang in a high C. “Pack up! You get to come with Nonna, and your mom will meet us there!”

“Yes! Cookie time!” Finn dragged the cooler out of the break room, followed by Tate, who had the box of bowls and utensils.

“Bye, Mom!” Her older twin stopped to give her a hug.

“Get us a good station.” Preferably one far away from Jonathan’s. Like on the other side of the gymnasium so she wouldn’t have to talk to him…or even look at him.

“Don’t worry, Mom. We’re on it.” Finn dragged the cooler out the door.

“Toodles.” Her mom waved and ushered Tate out behind him.

“What in the actual hell is wrong with you?” Kels examined her face. “You’re all flushed and nervous. Good God. It’s only a stupid contest, and you’re probably not going to win anyway. So get it together.”

If only the contest were all she had to worry about. Melody faced her sister. “If you were a man, what would you think if I texted you three eggplant emojis in a row?”

“I’d think you wanted to get some, of course.” Kels laughed. “Is this about the text you sent to me last night? I was kidding around. I knew you were talking about eggplant parmigiana—”

“No. This is about what I accidentally texted to Mr. Braxton.” Melody handed over her phone and buried her face in her hands. How could she have let this happen?

Kels’s gaze ran over the screen, her eyes growing wider by the second. “Oh my God. You were sexting Jonathan?”

“No!” Melody wailed. “It was a total accident!” She paced, her hand on her forehead to quell the sudden headache. “We were having this nice conversation…I was going to delete that part about him looking good in anything because it seemed like too much, but then Tate walked in and I almost dropped the phone. The next thing I know, the message is sent with three eggplant emojis on the end of it!” Humiliation washed over her anew.

Her sister let out a guffaw, her upper body collapsing over the counter. “I’m dying.” Kels sucked in a few breaths and then started to convulse with laughter again.

“What am I going to do, Kels?” She shook her sister by the shoulders. “I can’t show my face in front of him. Ever again.”

After a long, giggly exhale, Kels stood upright again. “Did he did say anything back?”

“I don’t know.” She tapped the screen unlocked and put her head down on the counter. “I switched to airplane mode so I wouldn’t have to see.”

“Hmm,” Kels murmured, studying the screen. “No reply has come in yet.”

“See?” Melody resumed her pacing. “I can’t even imagine what he thinks. He might assume I was putting out some kind of booty call or something.”

That set her sister off again. This time, tears ran down Kels’s cheeks. “Maybe he thinks you want to take him out for eggplant parmigiana.”

“This is not funny.” Melody sat on the stool to pout.

“I know it’s not.” Her sister let out another giggle but quickly cleared her throat. “Come on. Let’s head over to the school. You can always tell him you’re sorry. You meant that text for someone else.” She elbowed her. “Then maybe he’d say he was hoping it was for him.”

“Not likely.” Jonathan didn’t exactly seem like an eggplant emoji kind of man. Melody stood and pushed in her stool. Kels was right about one thing. She couldn’t keep hiding. She’d have to face him eventually and she might as well get it over with. This dread had to be worse than actually seeing him.

Melody pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse and followed Kels out the door.

“Do you think you actually have a shot at beating him today?” Her sister paused to lock up.

“Not a chance.” She led the way to her car, which she’d haphazardly parallel parked along the curb, and they both climbed in. “Those cookies he brought over were like a bite of heaven.” She might’ve eaten them all if the boys hadn’t begged her to put some in their lunches. “I had no idea gingersnaps could be so good.”

“Looking at Mr. Braxton, you’d never guess he had a hidden talent for baking.” Kels turned up the heat.

“There’re a lot of things you’d never guess about him.” Melody eased the car along the icy roads, going well under the twenty-five-miles-per-hour speed limit. “Like, did you know he has a dimple? Oh, and he’s pretty strong. I mean his forearms are all muscly—which you’d never know with all those layers he wears. I’ll bet he spends some time at the gym.”

A long silence prompted her to glance at her sister, who was staring at her with her mouth agape.

“What?” Melody directed her gaze back to the road, heat flashing across her face. Maybe that last tidbit about Jonathan’s arms had been overkill…

“Nothing.” Amusement played in her sister’s tone. “It’s just that I’ve never noticed any of those things about Mr. Braxton. But maybe he smiles at you differently than he smiles at me.” Her grin turned devilish. “And I’m really curious to know how you learned about his forearms.”

“He rolled up his sleeves.” So Kels could drag her mind out of the gutter right now.

Melody found a parking spot near the back half of the school lot and quickly bailed on the conversation. She should not be noticing little details about Jonathan and she definitely should not be sharing those tidbits with her sister. Right now, she had to save face. Play this cool.

She stayed three steps ahead of Kels as they joined the crowd streaming in through the gymnasium doors.

“Wow, it looks great in here,” someone nearby said.

The compliment kindled a warm glow. She and her mother and Aunt Bernice had opted to buy new decorations for this event, and they’d gone with a North Pole theme. Each baking station had a cardboard cutout that made it look like a little shop you might find in Santa’s village.

“There’s Finn and Tate.” Kels had caught up to her. “Oh…and Jonathan too.” She slid a gaze in her direction, but Melody was careful to hold her expression neutral.

“Huh.” Why was she not surprised that the boys had chosen the station right next to Jonathan’s? While the principal’s ingredients appeared to be organized on the table in the order he was planning to use them, Finn and Tate had seemingly not managed to get anything unpacked.

“Look, Mom!” Finn called as she approached. “We got the spot right next to Mr. Braxton!”

“Then we can see his face when we beat him,” Tate added, smirking at his principal.

“That’s great.” She snuck a peek at Jonathan and then did a double take. He wasn’t wearing a sweater vest? And no formal button-up shirt either. Instead, he’d dressed in a nice hunter green V-neck sweater. Possibly cashmere.

The boys saw a friend and drifted away to chat.

“Wow, Mr. Braxton. Don’t you look nice?” Leave it to Kels to break the ice freezing the air between them. “Changing up the wardrobe for the Cookie Contest, huh?”

“Oh.” He looked down at his sweater like he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Yes. I figured there was no need to dress up when I’d only be wearing an apron anyway.”

This from the man who’d dressed up to attend the basketball team’s tournament?

“What d’you think, Mel?” Kels nudged her. “Nice sweater, huh?”

All of her blood instantaneously rushed to her face. And she’d only just gotten rid of the last blush. “You promised to help Mom, right?” She made sure Jonathan wasn’t looking and then tightened her mouth at her sister—the same threatening expression she used to use when Kels spied on her when they were teenagers.

“That’s right.” Kelsey smiled sweetly. “Have fun, everyone! I know I will.” She traipsed away with one final glance over her shoulder at Melody.

Avoiding Jonathan’s gaze, she skirted behind their table and started to unpack the ingredients in the cooler. All she could think about were those three eggplant emojis lighting up his screen. Heat closed in on her again, and she quickly shed her cardigan.

“Our cookies are gonna be so good!” Finn bounded to Jonathan’s table. “That test batch we made when you came over turned out amazing!”

“I heard.” Jonathan’s tone hit a playful note, but she still couldn’t make herself look at him.

“Yeah, thanks for your help, Mr. Braxton.” Tate had wandered over too.

“It was nothing.” Jonathan shook the flour dust off his sifter and set it carefully next to his measuring cups. “I owed your mom one.”

Melody finally looked at him. Her expression must’ve registered the confusion clouding her thoughts.

“You helped me shop for Ainsley. So I owed you one.” He smiled at her like he normally would’ve—like he would’ve last week, before the text conversation gone awry. Maybe the phone was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t read it. She couldn’t tell. Jonathan was totally preoccupied reordering his spatula and teaspoons and whisks. The man’s assortment of baking utensils was every bit as impressive as his forearms.

Melody started to bring order to the supplies that the boys were unloading haphazardly onto the table. That was all the other night had been, then—him repaying a favor. And maybe she’d read into the flirty text thread too? “Good. We’re even, then.” He hadn’t come to see her or to drink eggnog with the boys or to spend time with them at all. He was simply repaying a favor. And she’d gotten carried away and had blown everything out of proportion. “Then I won’t feel bad about beating you today.” Nothing like a little trash talk to shield herself from the slight disappointment edging in. Either he hadn’t seen the last text or he was ignoring it—which would be worse?

Jonathan looked up in surprise, a slow grin taking shape. “You really think you have a shot at winning, huh?”

That dimple. Honestly. Where was Kelsey when she had the proof he had a dimple? “I mean, these cookies are the best I’ve ever made.” Technically true, though the bar was low.

“I can’t wait to try one.” For the first time he faced her fully and he looked so good, relaxed and casual and broad in that sweater. Her sister had been right. It was a very nice sweater. Especially on Jonathan.

Microphone static buzzed through the speakers.

“Welcome to the twenty-third annual Cookeville Cookie Contest!” Her mom waved from the platform, the light bulb necklace blinking. “This will be the first time we see our bakers go head to head on a live stage. We have quite the competitors here today, which means you all are going to get a taste of some of the best cookies ever made.”

Finn and Tate joined the cheering from the crowd.

“Don’t forget, we have to focus more on making the cookies than eating them,” Melody admonished.

“Competitors will have four hours to make, bake, and decorate five dozen of their best cookies,” her mom went on. “Our volunteers will keep the ovens hot and running in the kitchen, but contestants, you are responsible for getting your cookies in and out.”

Oh boy. Here they went. She had to completely tune out any thoughts about Jonathan and focus. Nerves churned in her stomach. Had she remembered everything? Her eyes ran over the supplies strewn across their table. Why did their station look like such a mess?

The microphone crackled again. “At exactly three o’clock the cookies must be ready for tasting at your stations. Ready? Set…Go!”

Melody lunged toward the measuring cups at the same time Finn reached for the flour, and they collided in a poof.

“Don’t forget,” Jonathan said smoothly. “The flour goes in the bowl.”

Ha. “Real bakers aren’t afraid to get dirty in the kitchen.” She froze. Wait. That didn’t come out the way she’d intended.

“I’m definitely not afraid.” Jonathan’s lips folded on a sexy little smirk.

Maybe he had seen her text after all!

“Come on, Mom!” Tate measured out the baking soda. “We’ve gotta get moving. We’re already behind.”

Right. No flirting with the competition. She settled into a chaotic routine with the twins, bumping into each other while they added ingredients and sifted and stirred. People gathered to watch Jonathan work in his ordered methodical fashion.

“You’d better watch out, Mr. Braxton!” Tate yelled. “We’ve got some tricks up our sleeve today.”

“Yeah.” Finn could never be outdone by his brother. “You won’t even recognize our cookies when they’re all done. They’re gonna rock!”

“I bet they will,” their principal called. “But they’re not gonna rock as much as mine.”

“All right, you two. Focus,” Melody scolded. Their cookies would bomb if they didn’t start paying attention. “Whisk those eggs, Finn. Tate, cream the butter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

“Say cheese!” Kels appeared with her phone raised.

The boys both obliged, but Melody ducked. This would not be her finest moment for a picture—her bangs were sticking to her forehead. Hopefully Jonathan was too busy baking to look at her right now. Not that she wanted to look good for him.

“It appears everyone is moving right along,” her mom said into the microphone. “So far we have two teams already loading up their cookie sheets.”

“What?” They were still stirring. As tough as their dough was right now, they might be stirring for an hour.

“How’s it going over there?” Jonathan didn’t even sound out of breath.

“Everything’s perfect.” She wheezed before continuing. “How about you?”

“These might be my best gingersnaps ever. You’re not adding too much eggnog, are you?”

She shot him a look and then noticed he’d already placed all of the gingersnaps on his cookie sheets. And he was by himself!

“Let’s roll, Mom!” Finn put on gloves and then started to form the dough the same way Jonathan had.

They worked while other contestants passed by, pushing their carts toward the kitchen. Finn rolled balls of dough. Tate dipped them in cinnamon sugar and put them on the cookie sheet.

“You’re doing great, boys.” Her heart hadn’t raced this fast since she’d tried the spin class at the local rec center. This could be a whole new workout craze—cardio baking. “That’s it. Keep it going.”

“This one’s done!” Tate transferred the cookie sheet onto the cart.

“So’s this one!” Finn’s went next.

Two more to go.

“Need some help?” Jonathan leaned against his table, at leisure.

“No,” Melody said at the same time Finn said, “Yes.”

“We’ve got this,” she told her sons. “We can win all by ourselves.”

They nodded, their expressions determined, hands working fast, and then they loaded the last cookie sheets onto the cart.

“Woo-hoo!” She high-fived them while they rushed the cookies into the kitchen.

“This oven’s open.” Ms. Sanderson waved them over.

“Hi.” Finn’s eyes lit up.

“Look at these cookies,” the object of his affection gushed. “They look like winners to me.”

“Thanks,” he said somewhat shyly.

So adorable. Melody leaned against the wall to catch her breath and set the timer on her phone. Some people were already pulling their cookies out of the oven, but they were in good shape. They should still have plenty of time to decorate the way they’d planned.

“How’s it going?” Kels snuck up next to her.

“It’s going.” At least she could breathe normally again.

Her sister leaned closer. “Interesting that Mr. Braxton wore something different today, don’t you think?”

“I guess.” He must’ve gotten an early Christmas present or something.

“I’ve never seen him wear anything but a sweater vest.” Kels gave her a meaningful look. “Have you?”

“No.” Though she hadn’t exactly spent much time with him outside the context of school either.

“But today—when you sent him a particular text he changed up his look—”

“Mr. Braxton, are your cookies done?” Finn called.

Melody snapped her head to the right. How long had Jonathan been standing at the oven next to them?

“They’ll be done in thirty seconds.”

Was he frowning? Melody didn’t want to stare too long, but she did murderously squeeze her sister’s hand.

Kels only smiled. “I’d better go help Mom.”

Sure, she could escape while Melody had to stand here and wonder if he’d heard everything her sister had been suggesting.

“That’s time for me.” Jonathan suited up with oven mitts and briskly pulled the cookie sheets out of the oven, lining them up on his cart before disappearing.

“My goodness, this is exciting.” Aunt Bernice walked around the kitchen fanning her face with a napkin. “And the smells in here. I can’t wait to try all of these delicious cookies.” She snagged Melody’s elbow and pulled her aside. “Don’t worry. I’ve been campaigning for your cookies the whole time. Now, Jonathan’s got the looks, but you’ve got the story, honey. You should hear the sympathy when I remind people you’re a widow.”

“Bernice!” She wriggled away from her. “I don’t want sympathy votes.”

Her aunt scoffed. “Well, that’s the only way you’re going to win.”

“Time!” Tate called.

Thank. God. She slipped away from her aunt and helped the boys load up. “Careful now.” They couldn’t sprint back to the gym and lose all the cookies in the process. When they reached their station, she found the piping bags in the cooler and got everything ready for decorating. After giving the cookies a while to cool off, they took their time creating the swirls of frosting before Melody used the kitchen torch to caramelize the tops, and then they dusted everything with the gold glitter.

“Wow. Those are stunning,” someone said as they passed by.

“Beautiful,” another spectator commented.

“Hear that, Mom?” Tate shot her a priceless grin. “We’re gonna win.”

Her heart clenched. It might be time to start preparing them for defeat. “Even if we don’t win, look at what we made together.” She started to arrange the cookies on the platter.

“I’m really impressed.”

Melody hadn’t realized Jonathan was looking over her shoulder. “You’re so talented.” His expression was startled. “Uh, er, I mean all three of you. What a great design.”

“Why, thank you.” Finn wiped his hands on the apron he’d insisted on wearing.

“There are two minutes until three o’clock,” her mom announced into the microphone. “Everyone, please make sure your cookies are plated.”

The noise level in the room seemed to rise.

“We’re done!” Tate raised his hands in the air while Finn cheered.

Melody wanted to collapse onto the floor. But a line formed at their station and she politely greeted everyone who took a cookie, graciously accepting the compliments.

“Wow, Melly.” Her sister took a bite of the caramelized frosting. “These are delicious.”

“Really?” They’d truly done it? They’d managed to make a cookie people actually wanted to eat?

Kels nodded, looking as surprised as she felt. “Really. Nice job.”

She turned to high-five Finn, but he was staring at Jonathan’s station with wide, disbelieving eyes.

A woman was spitting—literally spitting—a bite of Jonathan’s cookie into a napkin. “These are awful .” She threw the cookie into the trash can. “Sorry, Mr. Braxton. I can’t finish that.”

Melody waited to see if this was some kind of joke.

“Are you serious?” Jonathan picked up one of his cookies, examined it, and then took a bite. His expression immediately warped. “Whoa. Salt. They’re way too salty.” After tossing the cookie into the trash, he took a pinch of the sugar from the container at his station and dropped it into his mouth. “This is salt. Someone replaced my sugar with salt.”

“You’re sure?” one of the many women lined up at his table asked.

“Who would do that?” another groupie demanded.

Melody shook her head. Someone had sabotaged him? That was a first for the Cookie Contest…

“I heard Finn say earlier they had some tricks up their sleeve.” That came from Mrs. Altman, the grumpy science teacher who’d busted the boys for setting her ants free.

“What?” her older twin screeched. “No! We didn’t cheat! We’re gonna win this contest fair and square!”

“All right.” Melody rested a hand on his shoulder. “No one’s accusing you of anything.”

“Who else would it have been?” Mrs. Altman elbowed her way to the table. “All your boys have been talking about for the last week was how they’re going to beat Mr. Braxton. They’ve even made bets with other kids at school.”

A headache started to pulse in her temples. That would be her fault. She never should’ve made a bet with Jonathan.

“Okay, folks…” her mom said into the microphone. “I’m getting word that we have a situation. Please bear with us as we work through this.” She set down the mic and jumped off the stage with surprising agility for someone who’d recently had a knee replacement.

“What’s happening?” she asked Melody.

“We’re not sure yet.” Jonathan still seemed to be in a state of shock. “Somehow, my sugar was replaced with salt.”

“And everyone’s blaming us,” Finn complained, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Are you sure you didn’t accidentally bring salt instead of sugar?”

Melody had to appreciate her mother for trying, but this was Jonathan Braxton they were talking about. Mr. Meticulous.

“I’m pretty sure.” He was staring at Melody, as though trying to work out whether her boys truly might’ve had anything to do with his predicament.

A mama’s fury burned in her chest. She quickly led her boys away from the crowds by the hands. “Finn, Tate…I need to know. Did either of you even touch any of the ingredients on Mr. Braxton’s table?”

“No, Mom. I swear.” Tate was on the verge of tears.

“We’d never do that.” Finn’s fair cheeks blazed. “Mrs. Altman just hates us, that’s all. She hates us as much as she hates ants.”

“I believe you.” Leaving them standing there, Melody marched back to her table, mainly addressing Jonathan. “Finn and Tate had nothing to do with this. I’ve been standing with them the whole time.”

“No, you weren’t.” The science teacher wore a snide grin. “You got here late. I saw you walk in.”

“We didn’t do it!” Finn yelled from behind her.

“Like they’d ever admit to sabotaging the principal,” Mrs. Altman muttered loudly.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jonathan took his entire platter of cookies from the table and dumped them all into the trash. “I’m officially withdrawing from the competition. You all might as well go around and try the other cookies.”

A collective groan went up from the crowd.

“That’s not fair!”

“You can’t withdraw.”

“Someone sabotaged him.”

Why did they all seem to stare at Melody?

“I’m not sure what to do,” her mother said. “This is unprecedented .”

All Melody wanted to do was take her boys and walk out to make a point, but she was the committee director. She had to take charge. “We’ll have a quick cookie committee meeting in the library to figure out what to do—”

“You can’t be involved.” Mrs. Altman clearly had an agenda here. “You’re in the competition.”

“She’s right, Mel.” Her mother squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll get everyone together and we’ll discuss.” She turned to the mob. “In the meantime, everyone, please walk around and taste all of the cookies currently entered in the contest so you can fill out your ballots.”

While the crowd dispersed, her mother started waving for all the committee members in the vicinity—including Jonathan—to follow her out the doors.

Tate was crying now, angrily swiping at the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Everyone thinks we cheated.”

“I know, hon.” She wouldn’t dare fuss over him in public so she simply handed him a napkin to blow his nose, her heart aching. “Everything’ll turn out okay. Why don’t you two go try some of the other cookies while we wait?”

“I don’t even want to.” She’d only seen that stony expression on Finn’s face a handful of times.

“Then go get some hot chocolate from the coffee cart.” She dug some cash out of her pocket. “With extra whipped cream.”

That perked them both up. They walked away together, lamenting about Mrs. Altman.

Keeping her head down, Melody started to clean up their station. No one stopped by to try any of their cookies. Not even one person. Finn and Tate were going to be heartbroken.

Finally, the cookie committee members paraded back into the gym and Melody cornered Jonathan before anyone else noticed. “You know Finn and Tate didn’t do this, right?”

The slightest hesitation flickered in his expression. “I don’t see how they could’ve.” But that wasn’t a straight-up denial. That comment left the door open on the possibility. And she shouldn’t be so wounded from it, but these were her children.

“The point is, they wouldn’t cheat.” She imagined her expression was ten times harsher than even Finn’s had been. “You know them better than that.” He saw them every day. Yes, they occasionally got into mischief, but they weren’t liars, and they weren’t cheaters.

Regret gripped Jonathan’s mouth. That dimple was nowhere to be seen now. “Listen, Melody—”

“Okay, everyone.” Her mother had made it back to the stage. “Thank you for your patience. Right now there’s no evidence that anyone purposely switched ingredients, so the show will go on. Taste those cookies and cast your ballots within the next ten minutes.”

“Everyone vote for Mr. Braxton’s cookie,” Mrs. Altman called to the crowd.

“But that’s not fair!” Tate marched to the table, hot chocolate in hand. It would’ve been easier to take him seriously if he didn’t have a whipped cream mustache. “The best cookie should win, and his wasn’t the best cookie!”

“Enough.” Jonathan moved to stand in front of Tate. “Everyone move on. Go cast your ballots. There’s no need for accusations.”

Yes. There was no need to make accusations. And there was no need for her and the boys to be here any longer.

“You okay?” Her sister rushed to give her a hug.

“No.” All she’d wanted was to hear Jonathan say he knew Finn and Tate hadn’t cheated. She didn’t know why that was so important to her, but it was. “Would you mind packing up all of our stuff, Kels? We’re leaving.” She made sure Mr. Braxton heard.

“You bet.” Her sister escorted her and the boys to the doors. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of everything.”