“Mrrr,” he said.
“Unless . . .”
Owen looked at me, cocking his head to one side.
“We know people bet on the show. They bet on who will make it to the top three. They bet on who will win. If someone is perceived to be a long shot, then the payout will be greater if they win.”
“Mrrr,” Owen said again. So far he seemed to be following me.
I took a drink of my coffee. “So if Kassie gave people the impression that Ray is becoming the front-runner and Rebecca doesn’t have much of a chance of winning, they’re more likely to bet on him, which moves the odds with respect to Rebecca winning more in Kassie’s favor.” Could that have actually happened?
It took a little searching and a couple of lucky pokes of the keyboard by Owen but eventually we managed to find an online gambling site that gave the odds of each one of the bakers taking first place on the show. People would bet on anything, it seemed.
“Look at that,” I said. Owen followed my finger. Ray was favored to win, although as I tracked the odds back over the previous ten days his advantage had slipped a little. On the other hand, the chances of Rebecca winning had increased a little over the same period of time.
I didn’t think Rebecca knew what Kassie had been doing. Had Ray? “Very interesting,” I said to Owen.
He murped his agreement.
I got down to the set about half an hour before filming started, which gave me plenty of time to check in with Eugenie and deal with any last-minute questions from Peggy. They were shooting Back to Basics and then Favorites. The Basics section would take the least amount of time. After that had been filmed we’d break for lunch—catered by Eric—and then finish with Favorites.
Everyone was wearing the same clothes they had worn on Saturday and I watched a member of the production crew check shoes, hair and jewelery for continuity’s sake since we were filming the first part of the show last.
Everything went just as well as it had the day before. Peggy and Richard already had an easy, relaxed chemistry—not flirtatious, more like siblings without the sibling rivalry. I could see that Ruby had been right to suggest Peggy as the replacement judge.
Russell came to stand next to me while we were waiting for the set to be cleaned up before the Basics judging. He was wearing a long-sleeved orange T-shirt that still managed to show off his muscled arms and his ubiquitous Vans—this pair was orange and red. When I used to watch the original version of the show I’d always wondered why everywhere was so clean during the judging. Did the bakers scurry around after they were finished to make each station presentable? It turned out a bunch of production assistants and a couple of producers were the ones scurrying around to make everything look good again, while the bakers got to step outside for a few minutes’ break.
“Thank you for the mouse,” I said to Russell. “It’s so small and perfect.”
He held out his closed hand and when he opened his fingers another tiny mouse sat on his palm. “One for Hercules and one for Owen,” he said with a smile. “I have their names right, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do,” I said, taking the little paper creation from his hand. “Thank you for mouse number two. You know, I think they need names.”
Russell wrinkled his nose and pulled his mouth to one side as though he were deep in thought. “Russell is a very nice name,” he said, “or so I’ve heard.”
I nodded and held up the paper mouse. “Russell, meet Russell.”
The human Russell bowed his head. “It’s a pleasure.”
“If this is Russell, then the other mouse has to be Eugenie, don’t you think?” I said.
“Eugenie and Russell,” he said thoughtfully. “Russell and Eugenie. In either combination the names do work well together.”
“Then it’s settled,” I said with a smile.
He gestured at his paper creation. “Be careful. You know what they say: When the cat’s away, the mice will play.”
He gave me a cheeky smile and walked off.
Everything ran so smoothly that filming actually finished a bit early. To my delight Rebecca was chosen Hot Shot—the week’s best baker, in other words. For the Favorites segment she’d made her honey-sunny bread. Richard had complimented the flavor and Peggy had noted both the texture and the crispness of her crust.
Caroline had made a spicy tomato sourdough loaf, which had coaxed a smile from the usually serious Richard. And Ray’s sourdough focaccia with rosemary, sea salt and garlic had filled the set with its delicious aroma as it baked.
Sadly, Stacey was eliminated. Her basic sourdough loaf hadn’t held its shape and was overbaked. And both Richard and Peggy had felt her sourdough biscuits were too heavy and too bland.
Maggie and I had been standing together, watching the final judging segment. We hurried over to Rebecca.
“I knew you were going to win Hot Shot,” Maggie said, folding Rebecca into a hug.
“The credit has to go to my mother’s recipe,” Rebecca said, bright-eyed with excitement.
“The credit has to go to you,” I said, stepping up to hug her as well.
Stacey came up behind Rebecca and tapped her on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Rebecca!” she said with a smile. “You deserve being the Hot Shot baker this time.”
“I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Rebecca said. “It’s been such a pleasure to get to know you.”
Stacey nodded. “You as well.”
Maggie leaned toward me. “I have to get going. I have some more illustrations for next week that I have to work on.”
“I had fun Friday night,” I said. “We have to do it again.”
“Pizza?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
I loved Maggie’s pizza. “Absolutely.”
Maggie raised a hand in good-bye to Rebecca and headed for the community center.
Caroline, Ray and Eugenie joined us then. Ray and Caroline were still wearing their aprons and Caroline had a dusting of flour in her hair.
“I need to try that bread,” Ray said to Rebecca.
“So do I,” Caroline said. “What made you think of adding walnuts?”
They dragged Rebecca away, all of them talking at once.
Beside me, Stacey still had a smile on her face.
“That was nice of you,” I said.
“You’re wondering why I’m not sulking and going off somewhere to lick my wounds,” she said.
I shook my head. “No. I’m just impressed by the way you’re handling the fact that you have to leave the show. It isn’t easy to be gracious about someone else’s win when you lost something.”
“Actually it is easy,” Stacey said, brushing a bit of what looked like orange zest from the sleeve of her sweater. “I never expected to make it on the show, let alone get this far. I’ve gotten way more out of this experience than I ever expected, so I’m happy.”
“I’m sorry to see you leave,” I said.
“I’m not going yet,” she replied. “I’ve already taken the time off so I’ve decided to stay here a bit longer, maybe explore the town a little.”
I smiled. “Come see the library if you have time.”
She smiled back at me. “I’d like that.”
Richard was heading in our direction.
“Excuse me, Kathleen,” Stacey said. “I have to let Richard tell me he thinks I’m a great baker even though we both know by the face he made when he tried my biscuits that he’s a little iffy on that.”
She was still holding her apron and she leaned over now and set it on the end of Rebecca’s workstation. As she did, the fine silver chain she was wearing around her neck slid out of her dress. I caught sight of what looked like a tiny red heart-shaped paper pendant hanging from the chain. I hoped that meant Stacey had someone special to commiserate with. Even though she hadn’t expected to make it this far, being ousted had to sting a little.