Read Online The Bake-Off by Beth Kendrick - Free Book Online

it.”
    â€œYou’re just in time. We’re getting ready to start the first batch.” Grammy led the way down the hall past five decades’ worth of Bialek family photos. As they rounded the corner into the kitchen, she squeezed Linnie’s hand. “And for heaven’s sake, be nice to your sister.”
    Linnie scratched the ferocious itch at the back of her neck. “I’ll be nice to her if she’ll be nice to me.”
    She squared her shoulders, set her chin at a haughty angle, and swept into the kitchen to find Amy lining up ingredients on the countertop and rocking out to the music blasting out of tiny speakers rigged up next to the stove. Amy’s thick, wavy auburn hair was slowly escaping its ponytail, and her hazel eyes sparkled as she paused to play a little air guitar. She wore a well-cut green shirt, fitted dark jeans, and a long, stylish gold statement necklace. She looked comfortable and confident in her own skin, the prom queen grown up into the president of the PTA, but without any trace of cliquey cattiness.
    Amy had never been a gossip; all these years and she’d never breathed a word about what had really caused the rift between her and Linnie. Her silence protected Linnie, but it also left Linnie alone with the hard, humiliating truth.
    For a few moments, neither sister acknowledged the other. Finally, Grammy stepped in between them and exclaimed, “Look, Amy, Linnie’s here! All us Bialek girls together again. Isn’t this marvelous?”
    â€œI downloaded some songs to inspire us while we work,” Amy announced, not making eye contact. “ ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’; perfect, right? Then ‘I Want Candy,’ ‘Cherry Pie,’ ‘Appetite for Destruction,’ ‘She’s Crafty . . .’ ”
    Linnie smoothed back her hair and pursed her lips. “Could you please turn it down?”
    â€œWhat?” Amy yelled.
    â€œCould you please turn it down? I can barely hear myself think.”
    â€œOkay, there, Grandma.” Amy grinned across the kitchen as she lowered the volume by a few decibels. “No offense, Grammy.”
    â€œNone taken, dear.” Grammy Syl produced a pair of gingham aprons from a drawer next to the oven and handed one to each sister. “Now suit up, darlings. It’s time you learned the lost art of making szarlotka. We’re going to need plenty of patience, precision, and, most important, teamwork.”
    â€œOh no.” Amy groaned. “Here we go.”
    Grammy Syl ignored this and started rummaging through the pantry. “First, we’ll go through our ingredients and set out everything we need so it’ll be right here when we need it. Flour, sugar, butter, sour cream, eggs . . . Making perfect piecrust is an art, you know, and timing is everything. The number one mistake new cooks make is overworking the dough.”
    â€œI know,” Linnie said. “I did some reading on the science of baking on the flight over.”
    â€œSuck-up,” Amy muttered under her breath.
    Linnie “accidentally” whapped her sister with an errant apron string.
    Grammy was still peering into the depths of her pantry. “And let’s see—we’ll need salt.”
    â€œKosher salt is best, right?” Linnie asked.
    Grammy looked impressed. “That’s right. Very good, Linnie! Now for the apples. Most szarlotka recipes call for Granny Smith, but I like to sneak a Fuji in there, too. It adds a tangy little kick. Plus, let me see, nutmeg, allspice, and—Oh dear.” Grammy clapped a hand to her cheek. “I’m almost out of cinnamon.”
    â€œI’ll run out and buy some more,” Linnie volunteered.
    â€œNo, no, you stay right here. I’ll go.” Grammy shook her head with excessive surprise. “How careless of me!”
    Amy rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter. “Oh, Grammy. You’re so