When she shuffles into my kitchen, I can see from the tight look on her face that she’s stressed out. I’m glad to finally have some good news for her. “I got a message from Evan earlier,” I tell her. “He said he found some sound equipment we can use for the Bake-Off.” “Really?” Marisol squeals. “That’s perfect! Andrew emailed me this morning and said he can DJ.” “I didn’t know he’s DJed stuff before.” “He hasn’t.” She laughs. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” Her mood suddenly feels a million times lighter. “Now, what do you want me to do?” I have her sit at the kitchen table and test my pastry-making skills by choosing random recipes out of a cookbook. We set it up like the Bake-Off so I only have a certain amount of time to get the recipes done. I rush around like a reality-show contestant, desperate to do everything right.
