by R A Wallace
Jax watched Seth walk away. It would be great to have Seth on his team. He sat and sipped his beer thinking about it. It took a minute for the voices behind him to sink in. He could hear Tara and she was speaking to another woman. Must be why Tara was holding two glasses of wine. Jax tried to remember who Tara hung out with. It took a minute, then he remembered what Caitlyn had said about two women recently embarrassing Lauren. Tara Hartle and Gladys Hawkins.
Jax listened to them talking while he finished his beer. He figured it wasn’t technically eavesdropping because the women weren’t making any attempt to be quiet. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Their voices could be heard clearly for several booths away. They were keeping up a running commentary on the other contestants that they saw in the Station Pub & Grill. On the one hand, their comments initially sounded like a compliment for the other baker. But it was the way they said something, more than what they said. He could tell that Tara and Gladys found all of the other bakers to be inferior to themselves.
He had just finished his beer when he heard Lauren’s name. At that point, he’d had enough. Standing abruptly, he turned and faced the two women who now stared at him in surprise, their mouths gaping open. He used his best corporate face to stare the two women down before turning and walking out of the Station Pub & Grill. If this was the baking world, he wanted nothing to do with it.
Chapter Twelve
Late Saturday morning Barbara fastened the single string of pearls around her neck and then put the matching earrings in. She was wearing a light summer suit in anticipation of the heat and the media cameras at the Teaberry Baking Contest publicity session for the judges. It was a public affair and Barbara was expecting a large crowd. In addition to the fans of cooking shows and baking contests, the contestants would be in attendance as well, hoping to get a glimpse of the judges while they were there to drop off their entries.
It had been Jessilyn’s idea to hold the publicity session at the Teaberry High School at the drop off point for the contest. She felt the media would want the ability to get shots of both the contestants and the judges easily. It made sense to Barbara. The media was all about drama and there should be no shortage of that this weekend.
Taking one last look in the mirror, Barbara went downstairs to join Matthias. He was waiting to take her to the school. They hadn’t been married long, but Barbara had already grown accustomed to having Matthias with her. She especially enjoyed his presence at times like this. He seemed to enjoy watching her play the role of mayor of Teaberry. She’d worried that he’d be uncomfortable as the husband of, but that hadn’t been the case at all.
They took the short drive to the school with Matthias driving. Barbara was not surprised to see what looked like organized chaos when she arrived. Jessilyn was already there. Barbara thought again how very lucky she was to have Jessilyn. The line of contestants to drop off their entries was very long but appeared to be moving fairly quickly.
Barbara walked into the multipurpose room and saw several people wearing name tags identifying themselves as staff. They were greeting the contestants as they entered the room and directing them to the proper location for their entries, based on class and category. Tables had been set up at the doorway of the large room so that contestants dropped off their baked goods and then immediately departed.
Many of the contestants had more than one entry, of course, but the staff were dealing with it efficiently. Each entry was properly labeled, and the information was quickly entered into their digital tablets. Other staff then transported the entries to different tables throughout the room, their locations based on class and category.
“Mayor Reynolds, you’re here,” Jessilyn smiled a greeting at Barbara and Matthias. “The judges are this way. The media are already here.”
Barbara followed Jessilyn to the auditorium in the school. There was a small stage in the front of the room. The floor and chairs were on an incline going down to the stage area, so that the back of the room was much higher than the front. The judges were sitting behind a table on the stage. Many of the audience seats were filled with the media and contestants who had already dropped off their entries. Other contestants continued to flow into the room.
The judges were answering questions about themselves, their impressions of Teaberry, their current projects, and the baking contest. They gave a nice overview of the rules and the general proceedings. Barbara saw Megan mixed in with the media group. She was taking photos for the town web site and taking notes as the judges responded to questions and comments.
Barbara stood near one wall, watching the judges. She knew that after the publicity session, the judges would break for lunch. The actual judging wouldn’t begin until later in the afternoon. Barbara and Matthias would be joining them for lunch at the Teaberry House, an old Victorian on the edge of town that had been converted into a restaurant. She heard a member of the media ask another question. It was directed at Charlotte LaMonti. Barbara recognized her from television.
“Are you anticipating finding any bakers worthy of their own television show?”
Charlotte barely gave the question any thought. “At a baking contest? Hardly. I mean, I know it’s regional, rather than a local country affair, but still.” She shook her head as though the question had been made in jest. “You can’t expect to find that caliber of skill just anywhere. Certainly, nothing at my level. My cooking show was always at the top of its ratings, of course.”
Barbara cringed at the shallow answer designed to minimalize the effort made by all of the contestants. She could hear whispering among the contestants around her. She wondered if Charlotte had any clue how ill received her comments were. Barbara doubted it.
“Did you hear that?” Gladys hissed at Tara. “Who does she think she is?”
Tara shook her head, pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and peered around the mayor standing in front of her to get a better view of Charlotte LaMonti. “She has some nerve.”
“C’mon. I have an idea,” Gladys said.
Barbara turned and watched the two of them slip from the room.
Chapter Thirteen
Niles Abbott stood in line waiting for his turn to submit his entries for the baking contest. He had gotten there as early as possible so he’d be one of the first in line. Others had had the same idea. He could see there were quite a few people in front of him, but the line was also snaking way behind him and well out of his view. That didn’t surprise him. Even with a contest requiring an application and invitation, he knew it would be extremely well attended in addition to competitive.
He was somewhat surprised to see the line moving fairly quickly. They must have someone who knows what they’re doing in charge, he thought as he looked around. He’d been surprised at what he’d found in the town of Teaberry. He’d never spent any time in this area and he hadn’t known what to expect. He’d had some pretty amazing barbeque last night at the Station Pub & Grill.
Many of the contestants were actually in small groups, talking like old friends and ignoring everything else around them. Some were holding single entries. Others, like him, had some way to carry multiple baked goods. He had found that a cart worked best for him. Others had pressed what looked like their children’s wagons into service.
He was hoping for a good showing of his entries today. He glanced down at the cart behind him. He had brought cakes, pies, and pastries for different categories. He’d been involved in a few other competitions and felt he knew better what to expect now.
He worked from his home, creating baked goods and a lot of wedding cakes. He felt that competing like this not only provided the option of name recognition for him if he won, but it also allowed him to network with others who shared the same interests. Looking around, he wondered what the areas of expertise were among the other bakers here today.
The competitors in line waiting to drop off their entries were staying to the right side of the hallway. They went all the way down one hall and around a corner into an
other hall and so on, snaking around this section of the school. There were open classroom doors along the hall and Niles peered into each as he waited to advance forward. There were things hanging on the walls of the hallways also for him to read.
It all brought back memories of his own school days. He hadn’t really cared for them much. He’d never been truly happy until he’d discovered cooking. He glanced back at his cart with a smile. He loved to bake. The contestants who had dropped off their entries returned down the halls on the other side. With all of the comings and goings and the contestants forming large clusters of groups, Niles often tucked his cart behind the open classroom doors to help protect them. He’d seen others in line doing the same thing.
Niles was peering into another classroom when he was jostled from behind and turned to see who had done it. He saw a tall woman with dark skin. She was wearing a colorful apron that looked hand-painted. She murmured her apologies as she passed by him. He never noticed the cinnamon that she’d sprinkled on his pie when she’d jostled him as a distraction.
***
Angelo Chandler wondered if anyone would mind if he got his phone out and took pictures of the line he was standing in. He couldn’t believe all of the people that were here to compete. And he was one of them. It was something he never thought he’d do. He was pretty excited to watch everything that was going on. He looked behind him and saw that the line seemed to go on forever. But they were moving fairly quickly.
At least, it seemed like they were. He’d never done this before, so he didn’t really know what to expect once he got inside the multipurpose room and it was his turn. He wasn’t a professional cook or anything. He looked at the others in the line and wondered what their backgrounds were. Angelo had a regular day job that didn’t have anything to do with food.
But he’d been cooking for his family for most of his fifty-five years and they’d encouraged him to send in his application. He looked behind him at the cart he was using to bring his entries in. He thought he’d done pretty okay for a first timer. He looked back at the line behind him again. He knew the competition was pretty serious. He didn’t have high expectations for himself. He was just happy to be included in such a group of talented bakers.
He was wondering if it would be acceptable if he talked with some of them, to maybe share ideas and stories about cooking. Many of them were carrying on private conversations in small groups. He didn’t really want to intrude, but he wouldn’t mind being in on one of those conversations. Feeling like part of the group. He was thinking of getting the attention of one of the people in the small group in front of him when two other contestants stopped by him. They must have already submitted their entries. One stood in front of him and got his attention.
“Hello, are you from out of town?” she asked. She was thin and wore glasses.
“Yes, I am.” Angelo smiled at the nice lady. “Angelo Chandler. And you?”
“Oh, I’m from Teaberry. My, your baked goods look absolutely amazing. Well, it was nice talking with you.”
Angelo watched her walk away with her friend. How nice, he thought. He didn’t realize that the other woman had bent down pretending to look at his entries but had, in fact, poked holes in his cake laterally through one side.
***
Walter Goodfellow used his maintenance keys to get into the building. He’d already dropped off his entry for the contest. But he had an idea while waiting in line. He’d seen Gladys poking holes in some poor guy’s cake. It would undermine the entire thing. There’s no way the judges won’t notice that. The poor contestant didn’t see it happen because he’d tucked his cart behind one of the classroom doors, thinking it would be safer there.
Seeing Gladys do that had given Walter an idea. He had hoped to get Allison’s notice by competing in the baking contest. But maybe he could help her to win too. He could do something to sabotage Gladys’s entries. He was certain Allison would have a chance to win then.
Walter looked around and thought about how he could get into the multipurpose room without anyone noticing. He had changed into a maintenance uniform that he kept at the school. That should make him pretty much invisible. He let himself into the kitchen. It was directly connected to the multipurpose room. He’d get access from there.
***
Lauren finally made it to the competition to drop off her entries. She was the last person in line. She’d wanted to get there earlier but there had been an emergency. While on her way she had to stop and help someone first. One of the older women in her neighborhood had been taken ill when she was out walking. Lauren had been driving down the street when she’d seen Mrs. Bailey unconscious on the sidewalk.
Lauren had immediately pulled over and dialed 911 for help. Mrs. Bailey had come to but had been so upset, she’d asked Lauren to stay with her and Lauren had. She’d stayed until the ambulance had come and stabilized Mrs. Bailey. But she was still upset so Lauren followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited until Mrs. Bailey had been admitted and was comfortable in her room.
Then Lauren had rushed to the school hoping that she still had time to submit her entries. She was still trying to catch her breath when she pushed her cart into the multipurpose room and handed over her baked goods to be added with all of the other entries to Trina Cantrell.
“Trina, you must have had quite a day here,” Lauren said.
Trina looked tired. “It has been interesting, to say the least. I didn’t realize how much drama would be involved with a baking contest. I feel like I’ve been living a soap opera all day.”
The young woman took careful notes on Lauren’s submissions and added them to her digital tablet. She wrote the details on the labels and applied them to the entries, then took them to various sections of the multipurpose room depending on the class and category.
“I’m sure you’re looking forward to putting your feet up after this,” Lauren said.
“You must have forgotten already what kids are like at two,” Trina said with a smile. “Jasmine will want to play.”
“I’ll have my own reminder soon enough,” Lauren said, with her hand on her belly.
“These cookies look good, what are they?” Trina asked as she applied the label.
“Those are Nutmeg Cookies. It was my grandmother’s recipe, they’re made with buttermilk. They’re kind of like a sugar cookie and they’re really moist and really fluffy. My kids like them because they are soft and chewy and they wanted me to enter them but, as you well know from checking the entries in, they aren’t the fanciest thing here.”
“Well, good luck. It’s all up to the judges now,” Trina said as she finished checking in Lauren’s entries.
Lauren looked around the room and the unbelievable amount of baked goods throughout the entire room. All of the tables were set up that the students usually used to each lunch. Every square inch of every table appeared to have food on it. Those poor judges, Lauren thought. No wonder they wouldn’t be done until tomorrow. Lauren couldn’t believe they could ever wade through all of this. Then she thought of Caitlyn as a contest judge and her fondness for food. She was so going to love this.
Chapter Fourteen
Regis Slater picked up his chart and moved on to the next entry. He glanced around the room, trying to spot his wife. He would have preferred working in the same classes and categories as Heather but that hadn’t been how they were assigned.
In addition to simply preferring his wife’s presence, it may have meant that he wasn’t assigned with Charlotte LaMonti. The woman hadn’t stopped talking since they got here and that had been a few hours ago. Given that much of their work involved tasting, he wasn’t certain how she was managing it.
The entries that he’d judged so far had been an interesting mix of old, heritage recipes and newer ones featuring popular ingredients of the day. That was fairly common for contests, Regis thought to himself. He could hear Charlotte behind him. She was making unflattering comments about some of the entries not being innovati
ve enough to be included in the contest.
Apparently, she wasn’t a fan of recipes that were passed down through the generations. Regis had always found them to be some of the best but to each his own. That was one reason why judges had diverse backgrounds and came into the contest with a wide range of expertise. They were all different, just like the contestants.
***
Megan worked from home in the afternoon to add her pictures and some of the quotes from the judges she’d gotten during the publicity session to the town web site. It had been an interesting day so far. She’d gotten a text from Lauren to say that she’d made it to the high school to drop off her entries and that Mrs. Bailey appeared to be doing well. She’d also gotten a text from Caitlyn saying that she absolutely loved being a judge and tasting everything.
Megan went out to check on the animals after her dinner and found Henry perched on Dora. The donkeys seemed to be doing well, as long as Henry was there to supervise. Megan went back into the house and checked the time. The judges were expected to remain at the school until seven PM. She’d put some bottles of wine in the fridge to chill earlier in the day. She thought she’d make a snack in case they were hungry later though she honestly wasn’t certain how hungry they might be after spending an afternoon tasting so many entries.
***
Nigel Reese was examining a sponge cake closely when he heard a commotion on the other side of the room. He’d been trying to avoid getting too near Charlotte LaMonti. He’d certainly been aware of her over the years that she had been in the limelight. Given his work with the popular gourmet magazine, he was familiar with most of the big names in the culinary world. He’d never been a particular fan of Charlotte’s, but he was even less so now after spending the weekend in close proximity.
