Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Excuse me,” a deep, familiar voice called from the audience.
Mattie looked up to see Grath striding forward. He had several things in his hands but the stage lights were in her eyes and she couldn’t see what they were at first.
“I’m sorry, but we are in the middle of the judging!” Mrs. Kranst exclaimed. “Now is not the time for an interruption!”
“I just thought you might like to know why Amanda Hutchinson’s cookies tasted like they came out of a package,” Grath said. “It’s because they fucking did. Look what I found in her trashcan.” And he held up several bright plastic wrappers that had the plump little Pillsbury dough boy on them.
“Where did you get those?” Amanda nearly shrieked at him.
“Got ‘em out of your trashcan by table ten—I happened to see them when I was looking for this!”
Grath held up the other item in his hand, which was a very familiar looking food processor.
“My food processor!” Mattie exclaimed. “Where was it?”
“Under table ten—Amanda’s table,” Grath growled. “Couldn’t find the powdered sugar though—I’m not sure what she did with that.”
“Ms. Hutchinson.” Mrs. Kranst’s voice cracked like a whip. “If these allegations are true, they are a serious breach of our Bake-off rules! All contestants must make their own dough—store bought dough is not acceptable. And didn’t I clearly state at the beginning of the contest that there was to be no meddling with other contestants’ ingredients or equipment?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—this is all lies! Just a pack of lies and I should be the winner!” Amanda shouted. In a fit of rage, she stamped her foot and slammed her designer handbag down on the judges’ table —which turned out to be a mistake.
The handbag—which was partially open, let out a huge puff of white powder which whooshed up like a mushroom cloud. Mattie jumped to one side quickly and avoided most of it, but the judges, who were seated, got fully saturated in the white stuff, which settled on their hair, clothes, and skin in a thick layer.
There was a moment of dead silence in which the PA system could be heard in the background cheerfully playing,
“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snooooow…”
Then everyone started talking at once.
“On my gracious, is that cocaine?” Grandma Thelma exclaimed. “Did that horrible Hutchinson girl bring a bag full of cocaine to the Bake-off?”
“Maybe she was trying to get the judges high,” someone suggested. “If she’s been lacing her cookies with drugs, that would certainly explain how she keeps winning the Bake-off with cheap store-bought dough!”
“Nah—her uncle was just a bully,” someone else said. “He was forcing the other judges to vote for her—you know he runs the local bank, right? They hold the mortgage on Carmichael’s donut shop. And Judy Owen’s Catering business took a loan from there to get started.”
“I still say it’s cocaine!” Grandma Thelma exclaimed, in a surprisingly loud voice for such a little old lady. She shook her cane in the air at Amanda. “That Hutchinson girl has been getting those judges high as a kite and that’s why they’re voting for her!”
At last Mrs. Kranst—who was doing her best to wipe white powder out of her eyes and off the lenses of her spectacles—finally spoke up.
“This is not cocaine!” she said in a loud voice which carried over the murmurs of the crowd. “This is powdered sugar.”
“Yes, it is—a lot of it,” Judy Owens agreed. She frowned up at Mattie. “Didn’t you say that your powdered sugar had gone missing, Ms. Porter?”
“Yes, it did,” Mattie said, frowning. “It was a large bag with a blue and yellow label on it,” she added.
“Let’s just have a look at that powdered sugar, shall we?” Mr. Carmichael said. And before Amanda could snatch back her handbag, he had reached inside and pulled out a plastic bag half full of powdered sugar with a blue and yellow label on it.
“That’s it.” Mattie crossed her arms over her chest and nodded grimly. “That’s my powdered sugar. I opened it and left it on my table but the next time I reached for it, it was gone—along with my food processor.”
“And I notice that it has a blue and yellow label on it,” Mrs. Kranst said dryly. She looked up at Amanda. “Would you care to explain yourself, Ms. Hutchinson?”
“That…that doesn’t prove anything!” Amanda exclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at the half-full bag of powdered sugar. “She…she planted that in my handbag, which is ruined now! She ruined my Gucci handbag!”
“I’d say you ruined it yourself,” Mrs. Kranst said, frowning sternly. “Along with any chance you had of ever entering this contest again.”
“What?” Amanda shrieked. “What are you saying?”
“Amanda Hutchinson, you have been caught breaking almost every rule of the Bake-off—you didn’t make your own dough and you stole another contestant’s ingredients and equipment,” Mrs. Kranst said. “Then you covered the judges in powdered sugar—which is not as pleasant as one might think. I believe I speak for all the judges when I say you will never be welcome at the Christmasville Christmas Cookie Bake-off again!”