Beauty and the Beet #onceuponnow

Part 3

Clementine had half expected him to find at least one flaw; the only other contestant he hadn't found fault with was Rose. Clementine was next and she doubted she would be so lucky. Her bake was placed at the end of her station and the cameras and judges moved into position. Polly took up the space at Clementine's side and gestured to her focaccia. "Clementine Bell, what have you made for us today?" she asked with a wave of her heavily tattooed arm, which Clementine could now see was covered in a patchwork of baking themed body art.

"I have made a focaccia with garlic and coriander," she replied.

Tilly turned the loaf as she examined the color and consistency of the cook. "It really looks like a great focaccia. Shall we have a taste?"

Clementine didn't breathe as her father cut into her bake. Steam rose from the bread as his knife split the crust and he passed a slice to Tilly. They both ate and Clementine could have sworn all the air had been taken out of the tent.

Tilly was the first to speak. "Focaccia can be quite a heavy bread, but I think you did well with it. It's hearty without being too much."

"Thank you," Clementine said with a weak smile as she resisted the urge to vault the counter and hug Tilly. The urge was sufficiently stifled under her father's gaze. He had the same, dark rounded eyes as Clementine and they seemed to watch her with as much scrutiny as they watched the bread.

"Now," Polly said. "What do you think, Ansel? And we ask that you don't show any favoritism to your daughter, not that we thought you would."

Tilly gave Ansel a startled look. "This is your daughter?" she asked. In shock, her eyes darted between Clementine and her father as if to look for signs of a relation. "I had no idea."

"You don't need to worry," Ansel said, ignoring Tilly. "Clementine wouldn't want favoritism and I wouldn't do her the disservice of giving it to her. She's my daughter, yes, but I'm only here to judge what she can bring up for presentation; she'll have to merit anything she wins here."

"Well then, what do you think of the bake?" Polly asked, seemingly satisfied with Ansel's answer.

"I think it's a good bake. The color of the bottom is a little dark and I'm not a fan of coriander, but she can't be faulted for that," he replied.

Clementine let out a breath in a slow steady stream. That was it? She had expected far worse from a man who had critiqued a brownie she'd made for him in an Easy Bake Oven at the age of six. But she'd take it. She had fared much better than most of her competitors, some of which looked ghostly pale after the brutal round of critiques.

The judges, now done with their tastings, moved to the front of the marquee. Cameras were readjusted, makeup was retouched, and the time came for the best showcase to be announced.

"So," Polly began. "Which of our lucky contestants produced the best bread today?"

Tilly and Ansel gave each other a knowing look. Clementine felt deep in her stomach that the award was going to Adam. She didn't dare turn to see what sort of smug look he wore on his face.

"I think we're in agreement," Tilly said, "that Rose had the best bake of the day."

"It was a beautiful Rye, and it has earned you immunity for the elimination round," Ansel said.

Clementine's stomach leaped into her throat as she clapped furiously for Rose, who looked just as surprised as any of them to find out she was the winner. She took a deep sigh as she realized she would now have to compete to save herself from elimination in a challenge she hadn't been able to prepare for.

The ovens were tested again which meant there was more waiting. Back in the green room, the contestants grabbed coffee and after the crew had their pick of the bakes, they tasted each other's work. Clementine's hand were still shaking from the nerves as she pulled Rose into a hug after tasting her rye.