CHAPTER TWELVE: THE SCORES
The judges took longer than expected to finalize the results.
Ethan and Nina returned to their station, where only two hand pies remained.
The rest had been served to the judges and the audience tasting panel.
Becca sat on a stool beside Maya and rearranged a damaged sugar petal with a pair of tweezers.
Ron offered everyone coffee from a large thermos.
Sal and Donna discussed whether their pastry could have used another minute in the oven.
After the tense anniversary segment, the ordinary conversation felt like a reward.
Priya finally stepped onto the platform with the sealed results.
“Thank you for an extraordinary final,” she began.
“The judging scores were close, and the tasting panel was especially enthusiastic.”
She announced third place for Jules and her lemon custard.
The crowd cheered as Jules accepted a ribbon and grinned at her grandfather.
Second place went to Becca and Maya for their chocolate tart with handmade sugar flowers.
Maya burst into tears and nearly dropped the trophy.
Ethan clapped until his hands hurt.
Then Priya opened the final card.
“The winner of this year’s Golden Oven is Ethan Cole.”
For a second, he thought he had misheard.
Nina screamed his name and shoved him toward the stage.
He walked forward in a daze while the audience stood and applauded.
Priya handed him a heavy copper trophy and asked whether he wanted to say anything.
Ethan looked toward his sister.
“I wouldn’t be standing here without Nina,” he said.
“And I know she will remind me about the left side of my crust for the rest of my life.”
The audience laughed.
He looked across the room at Inez and Pilar.
“I also learned something today about how many people stand behind a single recipe.”
“I hope we remember their names.”
He handed the microphone back before he could become sentimental.
As he stepped down, Vincent approached with a public smile and offered his hand.
“Congratulations, Ethan.”
“Thank you.”
“A well-deserved result.”
“The judges seemed to think so.”
Vincent lowered his voice.
“You could have avoided all the unpleasantness.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You could have printed Rosa’s name.”
Vincent’s smile slipped.
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“It usually is when somebody has already made the packaging.”
Ethan walked past him to Nina.
He did not need to win that conversation.
On the way out, Carol met him beside the back doors.
She had changed out of her purple raincoat and wore a plain gray cardigan.
“You won,” she said.
“I did.”
“I am glad.”
She hesitated.
“I went to the hardware store this afternoon.”
“Why?”
“I bought a replacement for the cracked garden fitting your plumber couldn’t repair today.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“You planning to install it yourself?”
“Absolutely not.”
They both laughed.
Carol handed him a receipt and the plumber’s business card.
“He said he’ll come Monday if you call.”
Ethan accepted them.
“Thank you.”
“And I understand if you want me to stay off your property.”
He considered the question.
“I want you to ask before coming over.”
“I can do that.
”
“And I want the axe to stay in your shed.”
“It will.”
Carol glanced at the trophy.
“Your mother would have been proud.”
Ethan looked down at the copper cup.
“She would have asked whether I saved any pie.”
Carol smiled.
“Did you?”
“Two pieces.”
“Then she taught you well.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE MORNING AFTER
The next morning, sunlight entered Ethan’s kitchen through a window still streaked with rain from the previous week.
His trophy sat on the table beside a stack of thank-you notes.
Nina had gone home after helping him clean up, and the house was quiet again.
Ethan carried a mug of coffee into the backyard.
The repaired water line stood beside the foundation, clean and solid.
The ground was still muddy where Carol had hacked through the old connection.
He crouched to inspect the new valve and noticed a small patch of disturbed soil near the lavender.
For a moment, the memory of the hidden cylinder made him uneasy.
Then he saw the plumber’s orange marker beside the plant and remembered that the decorative fountain branch still needed to be removed.
He stood and listened to birds calling along the fence.
A car slowed in the street,
but it was only the newspaper delivery driver.
Ethan returned to the kitchen and opened his phone.
The first message was from Priya, thanking him for his participation.
The second was from Pilar, who had sent a photograph of Inez and Rosa in the old bakery.
The third was from Carol.
It contained a picture of her own breakfast: a badly shaped pancake with burnt edges.
She had written, I tried your trick with the black pepper and ruined everything.
Ethan laughed and typed back that black pepper belonged in peach filling, not pancakes.
A moment later, Carol replied that she would leave the baking to professionals.
He set the phone down and unfolded his mother’s old recipe notebook.
Between two pages he found a grocery list in her handwriting.
It ended with a reminder to buy enough flour for an extra batch.
He ran one finger over the words and thought about the people who had helped him make the winning pie.
The contest had given him a trophy, but the week had also given him a different kind of responsibility.
He wanted to make sure nobody else’s name disappeared just because one story was easier to tell.
At noon, Nina arrived with a small paper bag containing fresh peaches.
“Are you ready to make the workshop recipe?” she asked.
Ethan looked at the fruit and smiled.
“Only if you help with the crust.”
“I was going to anyway.”
They washed their hands and cleared the counter.
Outside, the repaired pipe remained quiet, and the muddy garden began to dry in the afternoon sun.
Ethan rolled the first sheet of dough while Nina sliced the peaches into neat wedges.
For the first time all week, the only sound from the side of his house was the ordinary whisper of water moving safely through a pipe.
The End.
