Beth looked up from her book when her mother knocked on the doorframe.
“There’s going to be a bake sale this weekend to raise money for the flood victims,” her mother said.
“I don’t bake anymore.” Beth looked back at her book.
“You used to love to bake with grandma.”
“She’s dead.”
The grandfather clock in the hallway ticked off several long seconds.
“This could be a way to honor her memory,” her mother suggested.
“I don’t bake anymore.” Beth turned a page, pretending to read.
“Well, give it some thought. It’s for a good cause.”
“’Kay.”
Beth’s mother hovered a few seconds longer before leaving. Beth turned back to where she was in the book and tried to read. It was no use. Memories of cooking with her grandmother clouded her mind. She would spend entire days at her grandmother’s house. The smells couldn’t be contained in the kitchen, and they wafted out of the windows. It wouldn’t be long before all of the kids in the neighborhood were playing in the street outside, waiting to see what would be served up.
Her grandmother had recipes for everything, but they would be useless to anybody who didn’t know the precise difference between a pinch, a dash, a smidgen, and a dollop. Beth knew the difference, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t bake anymore.
Tears were tugging at the edges of her eyes. She put the book aside and decided to go for a walk to clear her head. As she passed the park, she spotted two of her friends, Hope and Joy, on the swings. She joined them on the third swing.
“Did you hear about the bake sale?” Hope asked.
Not this again. “Yeah, my mother mentioned it,” Beth said.
“It will last all weekend, and there will be a daily contest for the best item,” Joy said.
“I thought it was to raise money for the flood victims,” Beth said.
“Well, some of the money will go to them, I guess,” Joy said. “But there will be prizes too. Who would enter without prizes?”
“I don’t bake anymore,” Beth said.
“What do you mean?” Hope asked. “You’re the best.”
Johnny rode up on his bike and skidded to a stop next to the swing set.
“Did you hear about the bake sale?” he asked.
“We were just talking about it,” Joy said.
“My mother came up with an idea,” Johnny said. “We can set up a booth in front of her shop on Main Street. Everyone who buys something from her will be required to vote for one of our items. We’ll win all of the prizes. What do you think?”
“That sounds great,” Hope said.
“Yes, great,” Joy echoed.
“What do you think, Beth?” Johnny asked.
“Do you even know how to bake?” Beth asked.
“Of course. Baking is easy. Who doesn’t know how to bake?”
“Beth doesn’t bake anymore,” Hope said.
“Oh, well too bad,” Johnny said. “I’m already thinking how I’m going to spend my prize money.”
With that, Johnny pedaled off.
“It just doesn’t sound right,” Beth twirled herself in the swing, wrapping the chains tightly around each other.
“Why not?” Joy asked.
Beth took her feet off the ground and spun. She waited until she had come to a stop before answering.
“They would be voting for your baked goods not because they liked them, but just because they stopped by the store.”
“So?” Hope asked.
“It’s supposed to be a contest,” Beth said.
“It is a contest, and we’re going to win it,” Hope said.
“Join us,” Joy said.
“I’ll think about it.” Beth hopped off the swing and began to walk away, a little wobbly.
Baking wasn’t easy. She remembered her grandmother fiddling with recipes repeatedly to get them just right. It didn’t seem fair that Johnny would win. He’d probably just buy pre-made cookie dough and slop it on a tray. She could imagine her grandmother squishing her mouth to the side and pinching her lips together in that look she had when she was disappointed in something. Beth realized that she was making that same face.
Maybe I will bake again.
Beth stayed up far past her bedtime the night before the bake sale. It was after ten when she pulled the last of her pies from the oven to cool. She awoke the next morning with determination. She felt her grandmother’s presence beside her as she loaded pies into the back of the car. Her father loaded a folding table and a chair. Her mother packed a box with crepe paper, cardboard, magic markers, tape, and a tablecloth.
Beth set up her booth a half block away from Johnny, Hope, and Joy’s booth. As the day progressed, she saw a steady stream of people going in and out of the shop Johnny’s mother owned. Beth had quite a crowd at her booth also. Her small pies sold out well before her large pies. She would have to bake more of the small pies for tomorrow.
“We’re getting a lot of votes,” Hope said.
Johnny looked worriedly down the block. “It looks like Beth is doing pretty well too.”
“She’s an awesome cook,” Joy said.
“I wouldn’t eat anything of hers,” Johnny said.
“Why not?” Joy asked.
“I heard her kitchen is filthy, and there are mice running all over it.”
“That can’t be true,” Hope said. “I’ve been to her house. It’s not like that.”
“Just saying what I’ve heard,” Johnny said. “Maybe I should warn people.”
Later that day, the health department showed up to confiscate all of Beth’s pies and shut down her booth. She called her mother to come pick her up.
She had the table and chair folded up and ready when her mother pulled up to the curb.
“We had an interesting visit from the health department,” her mother said. “Do you know anything about that?”
“Baking is a cutthroat business, Mom.”
“Who would have thought?”
“Did they find any?”
“Any what, Dear?”
“Mice. They told me there were rumors that our house was crawling with mice.”
“No, they didn’t find any mice. We got a clean bill of health.”
“Then I’d better get baking for tomorrow.”
The next day, Beth was set up half an hour before the sale was scheduled to begin. She walked past some of the other booths. They were piled with stuffed croissants, rolls, meat pies, cookies, cakes, pies, and everything imaginable. She approached Johnny’s booth. The results from the previous day had been announced. Johnny, Hope, and Joy won first, second, and third. The ribbons adorned their booth.
“Hi Beth,” Joy said. “Isn’t this exciting?”
“Very. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. We will probably get even more people today with these ribbons.”
“My mother is going to be happy,” Johnny said. “That means more customers for her store.”
Beth looked over their merchandise. Joy had cooked a variety of cinnamon buns. Hope cooked cupcakes. Johnny had some uninspiring cookies.
“How many cookies did you sell yesterday?” Beth asked.
“Almost five hundred.”
“And you got five thousand votes? How’s that even work?”
“Word of mouth.” Johnny took one of his cookies and took a bite.
“Word of mouth, right. Well, good luck today,” Beth said.
“You too,” Joy said.
“Good luck,” Hope said.
Johnny stuffed the rest of his cookie into his mouth and smiled with crumbs dropping onto his chest.
Beth was furious with him. He was cheating. She could turn him in, but that wouldn’t be fair to Joy and Hope. She realized that she was making her grandmother’s disappointed face. It was hard to believe that her friends had been so easily seduced into taking the easy way. They took their cooking seriously. She would grant them that.
Beth made it back to her booth just as the sale began. An older couple approached her booth.
“We bought one of your pies yesterday,” the woman said. “It was the best pie we’ve ever had.”
“We ate the whole thing,” the man said with a guilty smile.
“We were going to have one slice each, but we finished it all. Unfortunately, we are too full to buy another one today.”
“I understand,” Beth said. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“We voted for you,” the man said. “Too bad you didn’t win anything.”
“That’s okay. Thanks for the vote. It’s really about helping the flood victims, though.”
“Yes it is,” the woman said. “Maybe we should get a small pie.”
“That’s a great idea,” the man agreed.
“I’m sorry you didn’t win anything, honey,” Beth’s mom said. The bake sale concluded with Johnny, Joy, and Hope winning every single ribbon.
“That’s all right. I don’t have what it takes to win.”
“At least you’re baking again.”
“I love to bake.”
If you liked this, check out some of my other stories.
