The Bake-Off by Beth Kendrick

that I wouldn’t drop out for anything less than a medical emergency!” Amy exclaimed.
    â€œI am sorry, my lamb, but the deposit’s nonrefundable and Harriet’s counting on me. Her husband died just last year; she needs companionship. Besides . . .” Grammy wrung her hands and let her eyes grow pensive. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be around. I’d better travel while I still can.”
    Amy put one hand on her hip. “Are you kidding me with this?”
    â€œWe’re all going to die someday, and I’d like to see the glaciers before I go.”
    â€œThen why did you make me sign all those forms?” Amy made a grab for the contest paperwork, but Grammy was too quick for her. “I can’t do this all by myself! Aside from the fact that I can barely boil water, the thing is called the Delicious Duet Dessert Championship. Won’t I be disqualified without my partner?”
    Grammy beamed. “I’ve already worked all that out. You’ll have a very capable partner.”
    â€œWho?” Amy put down her china dessert plate with a clatter. “Your name is already on the entry forms.”
    Grammy took Amy’s elbow again and nudged her toward the kitchen. “My name, yes, but I may have taken some liberties with the rest of my personal information.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œWell, you know, we do have a backup Vasylina Bialek.”
    Amy gasped and dug her heels into the carpet. “Oh no. No, no, no. And did I mention hell no?”
    â€œDon’t be so negative. I know you and Linnie haven’t had the easiest time of it, but—”
    â€œI see what this is—this is a trap!” Amy flung her purse to the floor. “You never had any intention of going to New York with me. You railroaded me into signing a legal document under false pretenses.”
    â€œMy goodness.” Grammy rewarded this outraged performance with a smattering of applause. “You certainly can emote, darling.”
    â€œI know you mean well, Grammy, but there’s no way. Linnie and I are like oil and water. Fire and gasoline.” Amy glowered as she came up with a more fitting analogy. “The cat and the canary.”
    â€œI’m right here,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”
    Amy found herself face-to-face with her younger sister for the first time in years. Linnie was sitting at the table with an untouched piece of pie and an empty glass of milk.
    Amy took one look at the beautiful blond bombshell sporting the milk mustache and insisted, “I’m not working with her.” She turned toward the window, fuming.
    â€œHello to you, too,” Linnie said dryly.
    â€œYou promised,” Grammy whispered to Amy.
    â€œNo. I promised to do this with you . Not her.”
    â€œIt’s okay.” Linnie sounded confident and kind of amused, which only fueled Amy’s anger. “I don’t want to work with her, either.”
    Grammy grabbed a slotted metal spoon and brandished it like a cutlass. She muttered darkly in Polish for a moment, then switched to English. “Pavla and I never fought like this. You two are sisters; even if you don’t like each other, you have to figure out a way to live with each other.”
    â€œNo, we don’t,” Amy said.
    Grammy Syl spun Amy around and yanked out a chair from the table. “Sit!”
    Amy sat.
    Grammy pointed the spoon at Amy. “You said you’re desperate for a little time away.” She turned to Linnie. “You said you’re desperate for money. It’s time to grow up and get along. Life is too short for all this dysfunctional nonsense. When’s the last time you saw each other?”
    Amy glanced at Linnie, but her sister had gone into screensaver mode: head bowed, gaze vacant, body motionless.
    â€œWell, let’s see.” Amy cast her gaze upward,