by Ashton Lee
“I’d be happy to express my emotions,” she began, as poised a speaker as Marzetta had been all over the map. “First, I want to thank all of you who voted for my little family tradition. Now that my children are grown and out of the house, it’s a thrill to bring back all those memories with this recipe, and I shall use this prize money to travel to see them for the holidays this fall. They are scattered to the winds. But again—thank you for honoring my divine Chicken Divan—alias my Chicken on the Sofa.” She paused to wink at her audience. “It’s the sour cream that does the trick, if any of you are interested. You taste a little something different, but then, you don’t quite know what it is.”
“Are you sharing your recipe?” someone in the first row asked.
“I’ll be most happy to. It’s easy as pie. We’ll exchange e-mail addresses if you’d like. Catch up with me after the ceremony.”
And with that, Aleitha made a delicate, wand-like gesture as if she were imitating Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz, nodded gracefully to light applause, and headed back to her seat.
“Lovely, Mrs. Larken. Just lovely and graceful. And next,” Councilman Sparks said, “we have the Best Dessert category. Now there was a lot of competition for this one because who doesn’t have a sweet tooth, especially on holidays like this? I know I do.” He paused to milk the moment further. “I know we had meringue and chocolate pie and brownies and ice cream and several different cakes and other pies to choose from.” There was one last pause and then, “The winner is . . . oh, it’s Mrs. Maribelle Pleasance for her no-sugar-added cherry cake.”
Maribelle rose excitedly, clutching a hand to her chest in dramatic fashion as the applause exploded around her. “You’re kiddin’ me?”
Ana Estrella jumped up nearly simultaneously, hugging her newly found friend. “You deserved it, Maribelle. Your cake was beyond delicious. You march right up there and get your prize.”
Maribelle appeared to be in shock as she made her way to the stage, shaking her head in disbelief, and she kept staring at the prize envelope Maura Beth handed her as if it were a star that had fallen from the heavens into her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was trembling, coming in spurts. “I just never thought I’d win, folks . . . but I thank y’all from the bottom of my heart.... Now, I know everybody’s talkin’ about these healthy recipes all the time . . . I mean, how good for you they are and all . . . but just between you and me and the fence post, some of ’em are a bit much to swallow, if you know what I mean. All my friends who have to watch their sugar intake swear by this one, though . . . in fact, my best friend, Fern, says, ‘You don’t feel like you’re bein’ punished for your sugar sins.’ ”
The audience laughed, and someone even said, “You got that right, sister.”
“Well, anyways, I’m glad y’all liked my recipe. And I’ll be happy to share it with any of you who’d like to try it for yourselves . . . I mean, all y’all have to do is just come up to me after this is over, and we’ll share our contact information. Now I know I sound like I oughta be livin’ in another century with the way I talk, but I’m up on all these e-mailin’ and Goog-er-lin’ computer things and such as that, believe it or not. Thank y’all again so much.”
On the way to her seat, Maribelle was intercepted by a rather thin woman wearing a straw hat and a pair of white slacks who got everyone’s immediate attention by whistling with her fingers. How could such a loud, sharp sound come out of such a small woman? It caused more than a few wide-eyed faces across the crowd.
“I’m Nan McCrary, and I just wanted to say to everybody real quick-like that I have to watch my diabetes real close, and the only thing I had out there today at the tents was unsweet tea to drink and a little slice of this good woman’s cake. It was real sweet a’ you, Maribelle, to think about those of us who aren’t as worried about calories as much as we are about sugar. It’s hidden everywhere in just about everything. So that’s why I voted for you, and I’m so glad you won.”
There was another smattering of applause, and then it was time for the big moment. The coronation of the Queen of the Cookbooks and the $5,000 prize money that went with it. Once again, Councilman Sparks announced the category but held back longer than was necessary. It was safe to say that nobody had any idea who might actually claim it.
“And the winner is . . .” he said finally. “Oh, wow . . . it’s Ana Estrella for her pigeon peas cake. Come on up here, Ana, and let us crown you Queen!”
Now it was Maribelle’s turn to embrace her friend. “I can’t hardly believe it. We both won something.”
If anything, Ana was even more incredulous than Maribelle had been once she’d reached the stage and accepted the congratulations of Councilman Sparks and Maura Beth. Her prize envelope and a trophy followed; then a tiara, which Councilman Sparks pulled out of his coat pocket and carefully placed on her head.
“I now crown you—Ana Estrella, our very first Queen of the Cookbooks of Greater Cherico!”
Ana gasped with genuine delight as she reached up to touch the tiara gingerly. “These aren’t real diamonds, are they?”
“Costume jewelry,” Maura Beth whispered, leaning in. “But still sparkly. I had one that was just like that growing up that I wore at every Mardi Gras parade until I was twelve.”
Then Ana’s public relations skills kicked in effortlessly. “What a surprise, ladies and gentlemen. I am truly overwhelmed. But I did tell myself that if I managed to win, I was not going to keep the prize money for myself.” She turned Maura Beth’s way. “Instead, Mrs. McShay, I would like to donate it to the library with the stipulation that you use it to purchase bilingual and English as a Second Language materials. Perhaps you can start a section dedicated to that.”
Maura Beth was smiling but also seemed slightly taken aback. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do that, Ana?”
“Yes, I’m sure. With Spurs ’R’ Us coming to town and the plans the company has for expansion down the road, I can tell you as their public relations specialist that there will eventually be people moving to Cherico who might be able to take advantage of ESL materials. I’m just thinking ahead.”
“It’s a good thought. Up until now, we haven’t had the budget for ESL books and audios, but we certainly have the shelving for an expansion like that. Perhaps we can call it the Ana Estrella Collection.”
Ana handed the envelope back with a gracious smile. “What a wonderful gesture on your part. Then it’s all settled. Except . . . I will keep the tiara. Or do I have to turn it in next year when a new winner is crowned?”
Maura Beth and Councilman Sparks exchanged wide-eyed looks. “Actually, the councilman and I hadn’t thought about it. But I think we can afford to give a new one to the winner every year, don’t you?”
“City Hall approves.”
“There’s your answer.”
“I’m almost in a ‘tiaras for everyone in the audience’ mood,” Councilman Sparks added, grinning at the crowd.
“Well, isn’t this all just too cozy for words!” an angry female voice suddenly shouted from the back row.
Everyone turned practically in unison in time to see Bit Sessions popping up and wagging a finger at the proceedings on the stage. “This whole thing was rigged from start to finish. You gave the top prize to that woman because she’s in cahoots with Spurs ’R’ Us, and this is just a big pat on the back for them. Plus, you kicked me outta the competition unfairly, Miz McShay, and you know it!”
Councilman Sparks looked baffled and then squinted at the audience. “Who is that, and what on earth is she talking about, Maura Beth?”
The two huddled for a few moments with their backs to the audience, while Ana looked on uncomfortably. Finally, Maura Beth came up for air and began addressing the charges hurled at her. “First of all, Mrs. Sessions, I distinctly remember asking you to pack up and leave the premises, and then—”
“I did pack up my tent, and I was almost ready to drive back to Corinth. But then I decided to sne
ak back in here and stand up for myself.”
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted . . . you and Mrs. Beetles were disrupting the entire venue earlier this afternoon. You had everyone gathered around to watch your childish food fight, and we simply couldn’t permit you to continue. And our awards were certainly not rigged. Once you and Mrs. Beetles were disqualified, we had to remove all ballots that were cast for either of you, and that was well-supervised. It was the only fair thing to do. Plus, I don’t see Mrs. Beetles here making a spectacle of herself.”
“That’s her choice, but she always was a wimp of the worst kind, full of preachy, self-righteous words.”
“And it’s that kind of name-calling that got you kicked out in the first place, Mrs. Sessions.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say—I intend to sue you!” Bit continued, raising her voice another decibel. “I cry foul right here in front of everyone. This was supposed to be about the food, not personalities. I should be the Queen of the Cookbooks, not this woman that can’t even speak English!”
“I beg your pardon?!” Ana said, more surprised than angry. “I speak the King’s English.”
“Hmmph! Her tent sign was in Spanish. What was that all about?”
“ ‘Hola, amigos’ simply means ‘hello, friends.’ My family originally came to America from Puerto Rico. And this is the Fourth of July we are celebrating today. That’s what this country is all about—e pluribus unum.”
“Now what language are you speaking?”
“Latin.”
“You’re an outsider, then.”
Several women surrounding Bit stood up together, and one of them shouted, “We came all the way over from Corinth today to vote for our friend. We think her food is the best, and we support her completely!”
“Yes, we will not be moved,” Bit added. “We’re standing right here until we get justice. If necessary, I will snatch that tiara off that woman’s head!”
Maura Beth couldn’t decide whether to frown or let her jaw drop. “Mrs. Sessions, you will do no such thing. You are way out of line. And calling Ms. Estrella an outsider is completely ridiculous. She actually lives here in Cherico. You don’t, and you’re giving the good people of Corinth a bad name with your remarks. I know they would be horrified at your behavior.”
“You can say what you want, but we intend to stand our ground and fight for our rights!”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t be so ridiculous. This is most certainly not the March on Washington. We’re just judging food on the Fourth of July. You need to stick a pickle in it.”
“And I’d say that’s some pretty rude language comin’ from a librarian. I still insist this woman that won is an outsider. These immigrants are taking over everything these days.”
Maura Beth and Ana gasped together.
To say that the mood of most of the audience had become testy as Bit Sessions continued to argue was an understatement. There were even a few boos here and there, causing Councilman Sparks to pull out his cell phone and text Mr. Peters: Where r u? Come 2 auditorium asap & escort all ladies standing out of building.
Not long after, the security guard arrived, walked down to the stage, had a few words with Councilman Sparks, surveyed the crowd quickly, and did not mince words. “All right, ladies, I have orders to those of you who are standing up right now to show you the door. Maybe even a jail cell. So what’s it going to be?”
Everyone except Bit Sessions dropped down immediately in almost comical fashion. They were like a family of meerkats who had just spotted a predator, quickly retreating to the safety of their holes.
“You must be talking about me, sir, but I’ll tell you to your face that I’m not giving in,” Bit said, her voice still full of defiance. “You can use those strong-arm tactics all you want, but you haven’t heard the last of me. And if you use police brutality on me, I’m taking this all the way to the Supreme Court of the United States if I have to. I’m completely serious.”
“Yes, well, I’ll be sure and notify the media,” Mr. Peters said, approaching her with deliberation and no little sense of amusement. “Meanwhile, if you’ll just come with me, please.”
Councilman Sparks, Maura Beth, and the entire audience watched Bit’s dramatic departure with her nose held high, but strangely, the Corinth contingent did little more than shake their heads and did not follow in protest. Amazing the effect anyone resembling a law enforcement officer had on most people!
“Well, my fellow Greater Chericoans,” Councilman Sparks said, trying to regain control of the proceedings, “that concludes our awards ceremony. Congratulations again from City Hall and the Charles Durden Sparks, Crumpton, and Duddney Library to the very deserving winners, and particularly our very first Queen of the Cookbooks—Ana Estrella.”
Ana did a peremptory wave as the crowd applauded weakly and began to file out. “Is Cherico always like this?” Ana asked, turning to Maura Beth.
“No,” came the forceful reply. “This was nothing. Usually things are out of left field. You don’t see them coming so you can duck or run and hide. But believe me, they find you wherever you are.”
Ana looked distinctly uncomfortable and lowered her voice. “Maura Beth, that remark about immigrants got me to thinking—I don’t want to be the cause of any ill will. I’m supposed to be promoting good feeling with my public relations job. I certainly don’t want this award to backfire on me. Maybe I should just refuse the Queen of the Cookbooks title altogether. My recommendation would be that you give it instead to Maribelle Pleasance. She’s a dear woman, and everyone clearly loved her no-sugar-added cake.”
Maura Beth replied with conviction in her voice. “Don’t pay any attention to what that Bit Sessions said. That immigrant remark was about as rude as you can get. She’s an odd duck if I ever heard one quack. You earned that title by the vote of everyone who came out to sample the food. She’s not even from Cherico, and I for one am glad to know that. I’d be ashamed to claim her if she were. This town needs new blood, and people like yourself fill the bill and then some. I’m glad you won, and even more thrilled that you’re donating your prize money to an ESL collection. That’s very forward-thinking of you.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess I’d be doing a disservice to the library if I turned in my crown, right?”
“Absolutely. As our very first Queen of the Cookbooks, you’ll always hold a special place of honor in Cherico.”
8
Dressed for Fireworks
After an exhausting day at the Grand Opening during which she had answered over and over again every stupid question that had ever been asked about computer operation, Renette stood in front of her full-length bedroom mirror in her modest little apartment at six o’clock that evening. Could she believe her eyes? Who was that strange girl staring back at her so intently? What watershed moment was she about to experience in her young life?
Mirrors had always been a source of friction between Renette and her parents, particularly her mother, Lula Marlowe Posey, whose lectures were always predictable and labored: “A mirror is just another work of the Devil, Renette. He gets you to stare into ’em in all your idle moments when you are always at your weakest, and that’s when he works on your vanity like the deceiver he is. Your sin is the sin of false pride because youth itself is a roller-coaster ride of temptation that makes you think the thrills are what it’s all about. It is an illusion that soon fades.”
It had certainly faded quickly for Lula. It was hard to imagine that she had ever been a pretty woman; even more difficult to believe that Renette’s sweet nature and countenance had come out of her body. These days, Lula’s mouth, never sullied with lipstick, was always set in a grim slash, her hair without style and far too long for a woman her age.
“To make any kinda fuss over your appearance is yet another sinful trap,” Lula was always saying.
Everything, it seemed, was a sin in the Posey household. But Renette had never allowed herself to rea
lly believe it. She longed to live in a world in which she was free to make her own judgments and decisions; and her parents had let her know in no uncertain terms that they did not approve of her job at the library that she had applied for and won after her high school graduation.
“Too many of the books they have in there are the work of false prophets,” Lula had told her the night Renette had hardly eaten a bite at dinner in announcing her library job to her parents.
On another occasion a few months later, Renette had further disappointed Hardy and Lula by revealing that she had rented an apartment and was leaving their protection of nineteen years to live on her own. “I’ve been saving my money from my library job because I think it’s high time I lived by myself. I don’t say this out of disrespect to both of you.”
“But we’ll take care of you until you find you a husband to support you. That’s the way it should be. Now, this place you’ve rented—is it one of those singles apartment complexes?” Lula had asked, bowing her head as if she had just spoken profanity. “I’ve heard that what goes on in places like that is a scandal.”
Renette had explained that it was not one of “those places” and that she merely wanted to see what it was like “out there.”
“I’m just starting out in life, Mama. You do remember what that was like, don’t you?”
“Your father and I were married when we graduated from high school. That was our starting out in life, and we’ve never regretted it for a moment. What was good enough for us is good enough for you. Meanwhile, you’d do better to stay under our wing right here,” Lula had answered. “There are people out there—particularly these awful men with no morals and their condiments—waiting to take advantage of someone like you. Have we taught you nothing?”
Renette was unable to repress an impish smile. “What kind of condiments would those be, Mama?”
“It’s condoms, Lula, condoms,” Hardy Posey had added in that unfailingly stern manner of his, stopping just short of banging his fist on the table. “Now, she may not have gotten the word right, but you’d better listen to your mother, Renette. She means well.”
