Sharon Hughson
Alli didn’t believe in magic. Even if the raven that dropped this feather at her feet had said, “A wish penned by my feather will be granted.”
Still, she dipped the strangely pen-like tip of the blue-black feather into ink and wrote: I wish to win the baking contest.
She closed her eyes. Would the feather write out a recipe? Or would inspiration strike?
She waited. Nothing happened.
“Alli!” Her younger sister Marissa tromped up the stairs to the garage apartment.
Alli dropped the feather and flipped the notebook over before turning on the kitchenette’s faucet.
“I found grandma’s recipes.”
The familiar, rust-flecked recipe box clattered on the table. Marissa almost smashed the raven’s feather with it.
Alli blinked. Her sister talked and waved, but Alli could only stare at the box she’d searched for everywhere.
“Where?”
Marissa tossed her brunette ponytail over one shoulder. “In the back of the pantry. Top shelf. Don’t you listen?”
She flounced out. Alli turned off the water and staggered to the table. She’d turned the pantry upside down and moved everything off the highest shelves. That recipe box hadn’t been there.
Was this how her wish was granted?
She swiped her palms down the outer seams of her jeans before plucking through the index cards. Which recipe? Her search slowed at the tab for breads. Most contestants were making desserts.
A recipe card stuck to her middle finger. She lifted it. Sweet and savory cinnamon bread. She vaguely recalled speckled bread with salt and sugar glistening on its crust.
Alli sucked in a breath, read the ingredients, and collected what she needed to bake the bread.
The next morning, Alli hauled her box of baking supplies and ingredients into the high school. Six finalists manned separate baking stations in the home economics cooking lab. The old-fashioned electric ovens weren’t the best for baking, but everyone shared that disadvantage.
Alli wiped down her station, laid out her ingredients, and tucked the feather into her apron pocket.
“Our special judge, Justin Blake, producer of Baking Family, says anyone who impresses him could appear on his show,” the organizer said.
Alli gaped, almost missing the timekeeper’s official announcement. “You have ninety minutes. Begin now.”
Assurance swept through Alli with every measurement. Confidence rose with the batter’s sweet scent. Quick breads took an hour to bake, but Alli remedied that by using a sheet of six gift-sized loaves. That meant she’d produce double the loaves she needed.
Soon, delicious aromas of sugar and spices wrapped in rich butter swelled through the room where Alli had first fallen in love with baking, the perfect antidote to grieving her mother. With Mom gone, her corporate-minded father permitted Alli to attend culinary school and a baking internship in Europe.
But when she’d asked him to help her purchase a vacated bakery down the street from his office, he’d balked. This contest offered fifty thousand reasons to bake like her future depended on winning.
She whipped butter and powdered sugar with ground cloves and cayenne pepper. After removing the perfectly browned loaves from the oven, she toasted honey-glazed walnuts rolled in salt.
With two minutes to spare, she sprinkled coarse Himalayan salt over the glaze on the mini-loaves. She set the judge’s loaves on a powdered sugar-sprinkled plate artfully swirled with icing. Mini-ramekins of melted butter and icing garnished with a clove stem completed each serving.
Alli busied herself washing her baking pan and mixing bowl, as the group of judges began sampling Mrs. Waverly’s four-layer Neapolitan cake, a bestseller for her bakery.
Throat-clearing behind Alli made her turn, nearly freeing the feather from her pocket. A dark-haired man stood beside the table of loaves. A handsome man.
Her greeting died on her lips
“Can you tell me about the recipe?” The television producer studied her with cobalt eyes.
She dried her hands on the towel tied to her waist, avoiding the urge to smooth her hair. He inhaled deeply. A spicy fragrance wafted from the finished loaves, and she hoped it tantalized him.
“It was my grandmother’s recipe. I made a couple of additions.”
“The smell promises heat.”
A glint twinkled in his eyes, and his lips twitched. Her heart flew into her throat. How should she address a famous producer?
The other judges arrived and peered at the supplied recipe cards. One lifted her plate to sniff each item. Another dug in with a fork, one bite as presented, one dipped in butter and the third smeared with additional icing.
The gorgeous producer sliced three portions from his loaf and sampled it the same way. The delay between each bite stretched to eternity. Did he like it?
The woman’s eyes rolled in bliss. “Wonderful.”
After devouring the entire loaf, the other judge said, “Unexpected. An interesting mix of spicy flavors supercharges the cinnamon.”
Alli was impressed he could identify the smoked paprika and pinch of cayenne pepper she’d added. The salt chunks on the crust tied the flavors together.
All eyes turned to the last judge who savored each bite, his expression unaltered.
“Delicious. Do you have more original recipes like this?” His gaze held hers.
Before Alli could respond, he huddled with the other judges. Why did he ask about other recipes?
Alli shoved trembling hands into her pockets, and the feather’s delicate caress steadied them. As she packed her supplies, she wondered if her bakery dream was about to be dashed. Or was the raven’s promise true?
The handsome judge returned. “I adore sweet with a little spice.”
Alli’s face heated as she sensed a double meaning. “I’m sure you’ve sampled fancier on your show.”
“You’d be surprised.”
His lips curled upward. Crinkles around his eyes drew her gaze to the dark blue depths before quickly returning to his luscious mouth.
Her heart pounded, nearly drowning the announcement.
“The winner of the Annual Bake-off is Allison Grant.”
She covered her gasp. The feather in her pocket tickled her passing forearm.
Today, she believed in magic.
Sharon writes, edits, and coaches other writers at her home on the Columbia River in Oregon. She enjoys playing piano, walking, biking, hiking, crocheting, and traveling with her husband. With two grown sons living nearby, she often spoils her four grandchildren, much to the chagrin of her entitled cats.
She has published sweet and Christian romances, biblical fiction, contemporary Christian women’s fiction, and Bible study books.
Connect with Sharon on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter (X), YouTube, Goodreads, or her website.
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