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

transparent.”
    â€œWhat? It’s all gone.” Grammy shook the tiny metal canister. “See for yourself.”
    â€œUh-huh. This is like a scene out of The Parent Trap . You think that if you lock us up together with enough sugar and spice, we’ll magically bond and become BFFs.”
    Grammy paused for a moment, then smiled. “A grandmother can hope.”
    â€œWell, you should spare yourself the trouble, because I can tell you right now that Linnie and I—”
    â€œAre quite capable of being civil to each other for a few hours,” Linnie finished, reaching over to turn off the stereo. “We do not have to be BFFs to make a pie. We both have plenty of self-control. We have dignity.”
    Amy fluttered her eyelashes. “And don’t forget the kosher salt. We’ve got that, too.”
    Linnie finally snapped. “Oh my God, Amy, why don’t you take this whole canister of kosher salt and shove it—”
    â€œGirls!” Grammy Syl pounded on the counter with the solid maple rolling pin. “That is enough! I am going to the grocery store, and when I get back, I expect to see pies baking and childhood traumas healing. Now, get to it.” She stalked out of the apartment, slamming the front door behind her.
    The metal measuring spoons rattled from the force of Grammy’s exit, and then the kitchen fell silent.
    â€œThis isn’t going to work out, is it?” Linnie said.
    â€œProbably not.” Amy sounded almost cheerful. “Why do you keep scratching your neck?”
    Linnie immediately dropped her hands to her sides, then washed them in the sink and tucked her fingers into the pockets of her apron. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m sorry. Regardless of our, uh, history, I really want to win this thing. Really .”
    Amy tilted her head, her gaze suddenly shrewd. “Yeah, I believe Grammy’s exact words were ‘desperate for money.’ What’s going on?”
    â€œFailure is not an option,” was all Linnie said by way of explanation. “So we need to do anything and everything we can to blow away the competition in New York. We need to eat, sleep, and breathe szarlotka for the next few weeks. We need to try to get along. I’ll do my part, Amy—more than my part. I know I owe you.”
    Amy’s penetrating stare intensified. “You really want to win that badly?”
    Linnie nodded, even though she knew that doing so was admitting weakness and providing Amy with the perfect opportunity to deny Linnie what she most wanted. But she didn’t have any other options. Her sister was her last resort and her only hope.
    â€œHuh. Interesting.” Amy drummed her fingernails on the stovetop. “Well, then, I have some ideas. Like, I was thinking that we should jazz up the recipe name if we can.”
    Linnie glanced up in surprise. “What does the recipe name have to do with anything?”
    â€œYou’d be surprised. The recipe name can make all the difference, according to the online forums I browsed.” Amy tucked her hair back behind her ear. “That’s right, while you were spending countless hours studying up on salt, I spent five minutes surfing the Internet while the twins tore apart the family room. And word on the Web is, judges like kicky names.”
    â€œReally?” Linnie had never even considered this, and the possibility dismayed her. This was exactly the type of curveball that set off a fresh case of neck hives. “Do they have any stats to back up that theory?”
    â€œDon’t know. I had to log off before the dog lost an ear. But there was this one chick who’d won three regional cake competitions, and she said judges prefer creative recipe names.”
    â€œ ‘One chick’?” Linnie repeated. “Need I remind you, the plural of anecdote is not data.”
    Amy threw up her palm. “Don’t pull that supercilious crap