The Best Cake

It was a truly magical Christmas season. I woke up to a fresh blanket of snow glittering across the front lawn. A curious little chickadee perched outside of my window. The only thing that could ruin such a perfect day was the arrival of Mr. Peter knocking at my front door. Ever since he started a bakery directly across from my own, he has done his dead-level best to one-up every move I make. I drowsily crept from my bed, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and made my way to the door where he persistently knocked. I cracked the door open and glared out at the tall, young man who held a thick stack of flyers.

  "Good morning Ms. Madison. You're looking....well rested today."

   "What is it that is so important at this hour?" I mumbled, glancing down at my smartwatch. "It's barely 6 AM."

  "Well, as you know, tomorrow is the annual Christmas Festival. I will be offering some special features at my stand this year. Here is a list of all the fun, family activities that will be taking place right outside Peter's Pastries during this Christmas season." Mr. Peter thumbed through the flyers and slipped one through the mail slot in the middle of my door. The flyer fell to my feet.

  I looked up at him with an annoyed sort of grimace. ".....Thank you, I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early." With a brief, stale smile, I closed the door. Who does he think he is? Year after year it's the same routine. I give out a cookie apiece. He gives out two cookies apiece. I mark the pies down to five dollars. He marks the pies down to three dollars. I picked up the flyer at my feet. "Come to Peter's Pastries for the Best Time," he boasted. I skimmed over the page of lame, simple competitions such as the pie-tasting contest, the "How Many Gumballs in the Jar?" contest, the cupcake decorating contest. When I reached the bottom of the page, I read something that intrigued me. "Bake The Better Cake" I read the description of the contest.

"Can you out bake the baker

Peter is his name

Do I have any takers?

Who would put Peter to shame

To bake, frost, and decorate

A cake that's so divine

The king of cakes himself

Would stand and wait in line"

At this moment, I knew I had some serious baking to do.

  I dialed up my best friend Susan, who manages my bakery, Grandma's Goodies. "Hello, Susan?"

  "Yeah, it's me. What's up?"

  "Think you can get everything ready for the festival tomorrow morning?"

  "I'll do my best. Why can't you come in?"

  "Um, Just a little last-minute project."

  "Well, okay. I'll be here till late if you decide you want to come help."

  "Sounds good, You're amazing. Bye Bye." I hung up the phone and rushed out the door. This was going to be the greatest, the biggest, the most elaborate cake I'd ever made. I drove to the local super-market and flew through doors, straight to the baking aisle. As I pushed my cart through the rows grabbing ingredients and frosting and decor, I didn't even notice the man trying to warn me in the background. Crash! I pushed my cart right into a tall stack of cans. Cans went everywhere. Cranberry sauce in my cart, green beans on the floor, and a can of corn right on my head. I stumbled and tripped over a can of beans. I fell back into a pair of strong arms which swept me up.

  "Are you alright?" I managed to hear before I blacked out.

  I woke up on a strange cot, in a strange room, with a strange feeling. I looked around, and I was alone. I saw my purse open and my things were strewn about a big desk. My wallet laid open and my license was gone. I tried to sit up but the pain in my head sent me back to the pillow. The door handle shook and in walked a security guard. She was tall and hefty, with a taser on her side.

   "Hey hun, you finally gonna get up?" She smiled and poured me a cup of coffee.

   "I-I don't think I can sit up." I studdered.

   "Oh nonsense," she took hold of my arm, pulled me up, and handed me the cup.

   My vision blurred a bit and I propped myself up with my free hand. "What happened?"

   "Well, you were shopping like a mad lady and ran into a tower of cans. A gentleman brought you in here and refuses to leave until he sees you up and around," she explained. She walked to the door, poked her head out, and said something under her breath. The door opened up and in came Mr. Peter.

   I sat there gawking at him for a moment, wondering if I was dreaming. "Why are you here?" I said in a puzzling sort of way.

   "You took quite a spill back there. I was worried you might need to go to the hospital." He said with a look of sympathy.

   "That's very kind of you, but I think I'll be fine. I have work to do." I tried to stand up grimacing at the pain in my head.

   He rushed to my side and supported my small shaky body. "You're in no condition to work. Whatever it is, I'll help you with it."

   "Oh, that's not necessary." I shivered at the thought of him finding out the real reason why I had been shopping so carelessly.

   "I'll hear nothing of it. I saved all the items you put in your cart." he gathered my things for me and helped me out the door.

   Why is he being so nice? What is he plotting?....... Why does he smell so amazing? All questions that were flying through my mind at this moment. I had known him for years and never seen this side of him. Of course, I never tried to see anything more than my rival. He helped me check out and load the groceries into the back of my car.

   "So, should I meet you over at your house, or Grandma's Goodies?" He questioned.

   "Seriously, that's not necessary. I feel fine." I said as my head was pounding.

   He walked over and pushed my hair out of the way revealing a large swollen bump on my temple. "You're not fine. I want to help you."

   "Ugh, just meet me at my house," I said knowing I would regret it. "I slid into the driver's seat of my car and the blood rushed from my head down to my feet. I knew I'd never make it home. I meekly got back out of the driver's seat to find Mr. Peter leaned up against the back door. "I-I don't think I can drive," I said swallowing the lump of pride in my throat.

   "I figured as much," he said smiling in a way I'd never seen him smile.

   We pulled up in my driveway and he helped get the groceries in. When we walked into the house he gasped.

   "This place is incredible. Did you decorate it yourself?" He said admiring the homemade decor and spotless environment.

   "Yes," I said blushing just a tad.

   "This is awesome. I should have you come over and help me. I've been living there three years and still have only four pieces of furniture," He chuckled and set down the bags of groceries.

   I placed the one bag he allowed me to carry on the counter and began to line up the ingredients in the order I would need them.

   "So what is all this for?" He questioned.

   I had dreaded the arrival of this questioning. Time to do some last-minute thinking. "Well, I'm making a giant, elaborate cake for..... my anniversary.

   "Oh, I didn't know you were married?" He said as he inspected his surroundings for any sign of a spouse.

"No, no, my anniversary of opening my bakery." I threw out there.

"Oh, I suppose that is a giant cake worthy event. Well, I can help you with that for sure. Cakes are kind of my specialty." He said trying not to boast.

   "Well, I guess I should get started." I pulled up a picture of the cake I was trying to make and got to work. I got out the ingredients. Mr. Peter stirred them up. I put the batter in the pans. Mr. Peter put the pans in the oven. We laughed and joked and even had a slight food fight. By the time the cake was ready to frost I was feeling guilty. How could I have hated this man all along for nothing more than publicizing his business? At some point, I nearly told him the truth about the cake, but couldn't work up the courage. He was truly talented in his baking skills. By nightfall, the cake was complete.

   "Wow, it's amazing. I've never made anything like this before," said Peter, and he was right. The cake stood at a whopping three feet tall and four-tiered, with a cascade of soft blue frosting dripping down the tiers like a real water fountain.

   "It's a masterpiece. Thank you for your help." I turned to him and said.

   "My pleasure. I had loads of fun." He smiled and put his hand on my shoulder in a loving sort of way.

   I turned to hide my smile and rosy blush. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

   "Right," he pulled his hand back and slowly followed me to the door. "I'll be right across the street if you need anything."

   Once again guilt built up in my chest and I tried to keep it from coming out of my mouth. "Yeah, thanks again," I shouted as he walked away.

   I couldn't sleep that night thinking about what I was going to do with that cake and the strange feelings I was beginning to develop for my former rival. How would I tell him it was all a lie. We had such a good time.

   I rolled over at daylight and threw my beeping alarm clock across the room in early morning rage. I crawled out of bed and doctored the nasty bump on my forehead. After getting ready for the day, I sluggishly loaded the beautiful cake into the delivery van and took a moment to go over my plan of action.

   I arrived at the festival. Everyone was cheery and friendly. My first trip was to Grandma's Goodies. I walked into the front door to find the place decked out for the season and smelling of gingerbread. Susan stood behind the counter. "Hey, Sue! You did such an amazing job with this place."

   "Oh thanks, I was here till two last night." Said Susan looking a bit drowsier than usual.

   "Oh geez, I'm very sorry. You wouldn't believe what happened last night." I winked at her. "I'll tell you later. I have someplace to be."

   I rushed across the street to find Mr. Peter scratching out the last activity on his competition board titled, "Bake The Better Cake."

"What? Why can't you do that activity?" I said with a puzzled look on my face.

   "I didn't have time to make the cake last night." he shrugged.

   All of a sudden it began to come together in my mind. I'm the reason he didn't have time. He was too busy helping me with my cake to do his own. My face turned bright red. I took his hand "Come with me." I lead him to my van and opened up the back doors. There stood the beautiful cake we had created together. "I wasn't upfront with you last night about this cake. I sorta was making it for your competition, and I'm sorry. Please, take this cake and use it for your cake in the competition."

   He looked at me for a moment with a confused look as if he were trying to take all this in. He burst out laughing and pulled me into his arms. "Now this is funny."

   "You're not mad?" I mumbled.

   "No, of course not. This is perfect. All this time we've been fighting each other to see who can make the better cake. In the end, the best cake is the one we've made together." He said

   That day we both entered the competition with our cake, and no one could deny that our cake was, in fact, the best cake. We went on to combine our bakeries in a new location naming it "The Best Cake". Today, we run a successful business and enjoy a happy marriage.