Page 47 of Baking and Angels

She’s just Helena,he repeated to himself, trying to quiet all the other doubts plaguing him.

“I’m so sorry. I was trying to help,” she said into hisshoulder.

“I know. But you can’t force things,” he whispered into her hair. He had a stray thought that they should just leave, get away from the situation entirely, without Cindy. Cindy’s problems were not Helena’s. She had enough to deal with, and he, if he was honest, didn’t like sharing Helena’s attention. This was… unnecessary and superfluous to Helena’s goals.

She doesn’t need her needy friend anymore,he thought.She has me!

But before he could figure out why that didn’t sound quite right, the front door opened and closed so hard it echoed down the street.

Cindy stood there, her face red, her eyes on fire for the first time since they arrived. “Alright, let’s go,” she declared. “Anywhere is better than here. We can get a taxi or something down the street. Otherwise, she might come out and keepthis up.”

“And there are too many eyes,” Rafferty added. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them coming from the neighboring houses.

“Too much of everything,” Cindy said, “I should never have come home.”

“Well, do you want to go to a cooking contest?” Helena asked.

Cindy raised an eyebrow, then simply said, “Sure.”

Chapter 19

Food Battle

the First

“Okay, this is a little bit more than ‘underground,’” Cindy said as they entered the high school gymnasium, dragging their suitcases and backpacks with them. “I was picturing an impromptu rave-like thing in a basement, or something.”

Helena nodded. “I think that’s where they started, but things like this, they have a way of growingquickly.”

The doors had been standing open, welcoming any and all into the vast room. The bleachers in the gym were fairly full of people all chattering away which made the gym space thrum with sound. Tables were everywhere, covered in white tablecloths with cooking equipment, including toaster ovens and hot pads, still in the process of being set up. On the furthest table were several bins and plates of unprepared ingredients as well as three mobile refrigerators lining the wall and even an ice cream maker. Amongst all this were several people in different colors of culinary wear, ranging from perfectly correct to incredibly ironic, all with numbers pinned to their backs. They were talking, laughing, sharpening knives, or reviewing notes.

“Wow.” Helena breathed as she took it all in. “Okay, this is a thing that has legs.” She laughed as she swept her gaze over the organized chaos.

To Rafferty, a sense of coming home washed through him. This was familiar, no matter what era he was in. It was the feeling he most looked forward to whenever he had been summoned. It was why he was almost unsurprised when his eyes locked withEleanor’s.

They both held that stare for too long before Eleanor sighed and made her way from the middle of the room to the gaping trio nearthe door.

“So you came to check it out?” she asked, offering her hand to himto shake.

“A long way to go for a cooking competition,” Helena noted, and Eleanor’s smiling eyes tightened again.

“We’re near one of the bigger culinary schools in the area, so you know, it makes sense,” she countered. “And whoare you?”

“Oh, hi!” Helena said, offering her own hand with her smile. “I’m Helena.”

Eleanor didn’t take the hand, only looked at it like it offended her. “Yeah, I know,” she said instead.

“This is my girlfriend,” Rafferty said, covering the awkwardness.

The other chef arched an eyebrow. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes,” he said. It felt good to actually claim that, and his ears burned a little at theadmission.

You’d think I was a youth again, he thought.

The other chef sniffed again, not finding his answer as amusing as he did. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered under her breath, then crossed her arms. “So you jumping in?” She addressed the question to him.

“Jumping… in?” he repeated, trying to parse whatshe meant.

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