Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

DOM

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 5:15 P.M.

Paxton leads us to a small room tucked in one corner of the hotel. Administration Room is above the door. How does he know all this? He runs a hand through his brown hair and takes a deep breath. Glancing over his shoulder at us, he wiggles his eyebrows. "Ready?"

Why all the theatrics? "Yes, we're fucking ready," I say, glaring at him. What happened to the professional Paxton we grew up with? That guy had no sense of humor. I miss that guy. "Knock on the damn door."

Xander doesn't say a word. Does he still blame me for everything? And will this somehow make it worse?

He knocks, and an exasperated voice says, "What?"

That's invitation enough for Paxton. Dottie sits behind a desk covered with various things she's stuffing into bags and boxes. Extra lanyards. Papers. Pamphlets. The hats and aprons they gave us to wear that are branded with Dunklin County Bake-Off. She looks up from her work and glares. Shaking her head, she holds up her hand. "Not again. Go away."

"Rude. We just got here," Paxton says, but he doesn't sound offended.

"Ha! You're hilarious. No, I don't know how someone stole your mother's secret recipe." She uses air quotes on the word secret. I liked Dottie before, but now she's getting on my nerves. "At least the pushy lady isn't with you this time."

"What pushy lady?" Paxton asks, planting his feet and holding his ground.

Dottie continues packing things away as if he hasn't spoken. Is she going to pretend we're not here?

"This time?" I ask since she's ignoring Paxton. I don't want to push her, but I'm tired and cranky, and the world is upside down.

She throws the apron she's holding and slams her hands on the desk. "Xander Cage and Dominic Toretto. The March brothers. Right?"

"Marchetti," I say, "but close enough."

She scowls at me. The friendly woman at the start of the competition is nowhere in sight. "You were in here not ten minutes ago complaining. I'm sorry. I'll tell you what I told you before. I can't help you."

"Hold on a minute, Dottie," Xander says, stepping around me and Paxton to get to her. "Are you all right? You seem a little flushed."

Her eyes well up with tears. She waves one hand around while the other clutches an apron. "This is my fifth year organizing this event. And I've never, ever had anything like this happen before. Two original recipes, exactly the same. How? Why?" She stares at us like she expects an answer. Or a confession.

"None of this is your fault, Dottie." Xander pats her hand, breaking his no-touching rule. "No one is blaming you. But something strange is going on. We just want to find out what it is." He hands her a tissue from her desk, and she blots her eyes with it.

"I don't know. I honestly don't. The records seem to be mixed up. And Brad, he's new. I just hired him because his uncle—" She shakes her head. "Never mind. But Brad spilled his tea, and now all the records are ruined."

"All the paper records, you mean?" Paxton stares at her, losing some of his good humor. "Surely you have it backed up. Dominic and Xander each received an email. There have to be records somewhere."

She sniffs at him. "I don't have time to go searching for stuff. We announced the winner. The rest of it is not my problem." She stands, pulls herself up to her full five-foot-two-ish height, and points at the door. "Please leave."

"Great job, Paxton," Xander says quietly as he moves toward the door. I love how confident my brother is now. And Paxton getting taken down a peg or two is always a good thing.

But instead of yelling, Paxton grins at him. And I don't know what universe we're in right now. "It doesn't matter anyway. I know what happened."

"You do?" Dottie asks, beating us to it. "Well, stop being so selfish with your information, mister, and share."

"Why? You weren't willing to share."

I start to step in, but Xander gets there first. "Everyone settle down." He smiles at Dottie. Then stares at Paxton with narrowed eyes. "Explain what you mean."

"No one stole anything. Both teams had the same secret recipe, and they thought it belonged to them."

"That doesn't make sense," Dottie says. "If it's a known recipe, it can't be secret."

"Are you sure?" Paxton turns to Xander. "How many people know your mom's recipe?"

Xander and I look at each other. "Just family," he says.

"How about you, Dom? Anyone you can think of that might have an old family recipe?"

How would I know? But then I remember the shoebox. The drawings of a bakery. The picture of Mom and a woman. "Callie." Did Paxton know all this time? "I think Mom wanted to open a bakery with the girl in this picture." I pull out the picture to show them and point at the red-haired girl. "Could she have had the recipe?"

"Was this person at the event?" Dottie asks, staring at the picture. "Or do you think she gave it to someone else?"

Xander holds out his hand and Dottie gives him the picture. "She was here. I talked to her. I didn't even realize it was her. But I thought Mom's friend died in a tornado or something."

We all thought that. "I talked to her too," I admit, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. I feel like I've lost something.

"Well," Dottie says, her face brightening, "that explains everything. Now, you guys can be on your way." She makes shooing motions with her hands.

Something or someone bumps against the door. "Just go in. I know she's in there."

Dottie's eyes widen. "Oh no. She's back."

"Who?" Xander asks, but the rattling of the door handle interrupts him.

"We should at least knock. Try to act civilized."

Xander and I stare at each other. Impossible. That voice. He sounds like me.

Then the door bursts open, and two men and a woman fall into the room, arguing about who should take charge. The bickering stops as they glance around, staring at us. The sight before me doesn't make sense. My gaze flickers from Xander to…Xander. And, even stranger, is seeing myself. An exact replica staring back at me. His nails are painted a bright pink. My gaze darts to Xander again. No…Cage. I recognize the laugh lines around his eyes. I step forward, ready to demand answers, but Dottie lets out a squeak and slumps to the floor.