by Joanne Fluke
“I think so, too.”
“Then you travel with the show?” Delores asked.
“Yes. We have our own trailer. Riggs is the rodeo manager. He announces and he also runs the show.”
“That must be a big job, with all those cowboys and animals. I hope he’s well-paid for…” Delores stopped suddenly and looked uncomfortable. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have broached such a personal subject.”
“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” Ruby turned to Hannah, who was staring at the two of them in absolute amazement. She’d never known her mother to be so friendly with an absolute stranger before. “You’d better get a move on,” Ruby said to her. “You’ve got that contest to judge.”
“Right. I’ll see you later, Mother.”
“Fine, dear.” Delores dismissed her with a wave and then she turned back to Ruby. “So tell me about life on the road. I’ve never traveled anywhere to speak of. Do you find that all these little towns look alike after a while?”
“If I have to taste another coffeecake, I’m going to die!” Willa declared, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her stomach.
Pam laughed. “I know what you mean. There were ten of them. But you’re in luck now. The next six entries are sweet rolls.”
“Tell me they’re not all cinnamon,” Hannah said, taking a swig of the bottled water that had been provided as a palate cleanser.
Pam looked down at the listing of entries and gave Hannah a thumbs-up. “There’s only one, and we’ll test it after the orange rolls. That should give your taste buds a break.”
“My taste buds thank you,” Hannah said, meaning every word of it. They’d only gone through three-quarters of the sweet-bread entries, and she was firmly convinced that cinnamon was the most overused spice of them all.
“Moroccan Delight,” Pam declared, cutting small wedge-shaped pieces of the sweet roll on her plate. “According to the recipe, the predominant flavors are supposed to be coconut, honey, ground walnuts, and dates.”
Hannah gasped as she bit into the incredibly sweet concoction. “This is sugar overload.”
“You’re right.” Willa made a face. “It’s almost as sweet as the chocolate baklava I had in California.”
Both Pam and Hannah turned to look her, but Pam was the first to speak. “I didn’t know you went to California.”
“It was a long time ago, when I thought I could get along anywhere,” Willa said. And then she gave a rueful laugh. “I was wrong. I found out I never should have left Minnesota.”
Pam looked a bit confused. “I didn’t know you left Minnesota.”
“Well, I did.” The color came up on Willa’s cheeks, and Hannah knew she was uncomfortable. “It was a big mistake. You probably noticed that I dropped out of school for a little over a year.”
“I saw that in your transcripts,” Pam said.
“It took me that long to realize that I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless I finished school. But when I enrolled at Tri-County College, I found out that a lot of my credits didn’t transfer. I had to start my major all over again.” Willa stopped to smile at Pam. “And you hired me as a teacher’s aide so that I could finish and get my degree.”
“How long do you have to go?” Hannah asked, hoping that Willa would make it.
“Only one more semester. All I have to do is student teach for Pam until Christmas and I’ve got it!”
“You’ll make it,” Pam said, turning around to face the long table where the remaining entries were lined up to be judged. “Only one left. After that we’ll tally up the scores and declare a winner. And then we can all pick out a couple of our favorites and take them home.”
Hannah was surprised at this news. “I didn’t know we got to take anything home!”
“Well, we do. That’s why the contestants are required to use disposable pans. We get to take what we want, and we leave the rest for the cleaning crew. It’s one of the perks they get for cleaning this building.”
“I’ll bet they never have any trouble finding people to clean up,” Hannah commented.
“Probably not.” Pam picked up the last entry and set it in front of them. As with all the other entries, there was a card giving the name of the recipe, but the contestant’s name had been concealed with removable tape. A number was written on the front of the tape, and the scorecards were numbered accordingly. “This is chocolate cherry coffeecake,” Pam said, reading the card. “The contestant describes it as, Bite-sized morsels of chocolate and cherry in a tender buttery sweet dough. Drizzled with melted dark chocolate and cherry icing, it’s the perfect accompaniment to a strong cup of coffee.”
Hannah’s mouth started to water. “Sounds yummy!”
“Chocolate and cherry is a traditional combination,” Willa stated the obvious. “What kind of cherries did she use?”
Pam flipped the card to read the list of ingredients on the back. “Dark cherry pie filling. She rolled out the sweet dough and spread out the cherry pie filling. Then she sprinkled on the chocolate chips, and folded the dough over the top.”
“How about the cherry frosting?” Hannah wanted to know. “Did she use part of the cherry pie filling for that?”
“No. It says that she used cherry liqueur and a drop of red food coloring.”
Hannah watched as Pam cut bite-sized pieces for all three of them. She wasn’t that wild about using food coloring, but she had to admit that the combination of drizzled chocolate and pink cherry icing was pretty.
“Any more questions?” Pam asked after they’d tasted their sample. When Hannah and Willa shook their heads, she passed them the numbered scorecards. “Let’s mark our scores and go on.”
Hannah had just turned in her scorecard when she had a thought. Delores loved the combination of chocolate and cherries, and Pam had said they could take some of the baked goods home. “If nobody else wants it, I’ll take the rest of that chocolate cherry coffeecake.”
“Fine by me,” Pam said.
“You got it, Hannah,” Willa agreed. “I’m taking the rest of the raised cinnamon doughnuts. I thought they were great.”
Hannah didn’t comment. She hadn’t given the doughnuts a high mark. She’d thought they were a bit greasy, and the contestant had used too much cinnamon for her taste. “What are you taking, Pam?”
“The sticky buns. They’re George’s favorites. And I think I’ll take one of the apple coffeecakes, too. George’s sister loves apple coffeecake. I’ll just pop it in the freezer and take it with me the next time we visit.”
The next few minutes were spent tallying scores. Hannah read them off, Willa punched them into the calculator that had been provided for them, and Pam marked them down on the master score sheet. They were nearing the end when Pam gave a little gasp.
“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, staring at the master score sheet as if it couldn’t possibly be right. “Mrs. Adamczak only got an honorable mention?”
Hannah was every bit as shocked as Pam looked. “You’ve got to be kidding! She’s never come in lower than second place!”
“And that was right after she had her hip replacement and she couldn’t stand for more than five minutes at a time,” Pam said with a frown. “There’s got to be some mistake.”
“Which entry was hers?” Willa asked.
Hannah glanced down at the master sheet. “Number thirty-two, the cinnamon raisin bread. It was the only one entered. Nobody wants to put their cinnamon raison bread up against Mrs. Adamczak’s.”
“Are you sure you tallied her score right?” Pam asked Willa. “I didn’t think Mrs. Adamczak’s bread was quite as good as last year, but I still gave her nines across the board.”
“And I gave her almost all nines,” Hannah said.
Willa looked highly uncomfortable. “Her score’s right. I gave her threes and fours. When I added all the marks together, her score averaged out to a little below seven, and there were three other entries higher than hers.”
“You gave her threes and fours?” Hannah had trouble b
elieving that Willa hadn’t liked Mrs. Adamczak’s bread. “But that’s below average.”
“I know. I thought it had too many raisins. And I didn’t like the golden ones mixed in with the regular.”
“Okay,” Pam said. “What else was wrong with it?”
“There wasn’t enough cinnamon and it was mixed with some spice I didn’t care for. I think it was…cardamom?”
“That’s right,” Hannah said, glancing quickly at the list of ingredients. “Was there anything else you didn’t like?”
“I thought it was overbaked.”
“I agree that it was a bit too brown on top,” Pam said, turning to Hannah.
“So do I. I gave her an eight on presentation for that. But it was still moist, so it didn’t hurt the texture or the internal appearance.”
Willa looked a bit regretful. “I suppose Mrs. Adamczak’s going to be really disappointed.” And when Pam and Hannah nodded, she gave a deep sigh. “She’s the lady that lives in the yellow house right across from the school, isn’t she?”
“That’s right,” Pam answered her.
“I wonder if…I mean, it’s probably not allowed, but…do you think I should change my scorecard?”
Hannah and Pam locked eyes. It was a tough question, and Willa was clearly struggling with it.
“Let’s put it to the test,” Hannah said at last, after Pam had failed to speak up. “Do you still feel the same way about her bread?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then your objections are valid. You didn’t think it deserved to win before, and you shouldn’t change your score now that you know who baked it.”
“Absolutely right,” Pam agreed, giving Willa a smile. “It’s like the student you hated to flunk. Remember?”
Willa turned to Hannah. “I really liked him, but I graded his final project and it was awful. He had to make breakfast, and he chose pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”
“He didn’t drain the bacon, and it was grease central,” Pam took over the story. “The eggs were incinerated, and I thought we’d never get the sulfur smell out of the room.”
“And the pancakes?” Hannah asked.
Willa gave a rueful little smile. “Raw inside. And he tried to heat the syrup in the microwave without taking off the metal cap, and it sparked like fireworks. I still feel bad, though. Because of me, he has to go to summer school to take another class.”
Pam passed over the final tally sheet for all three of them to sign. Then they packaged the sweet breads they were taking with them and parted ways at the bottom of the steps to the Creative Arts Building.
As Hannah headed off across the fairgrounds, slapping at mosquitoes and juggling her sweet burdens, she decided that the first day of judging hadn’t been so bad. She’d tasted some very fine sweet dough treats, and she was going to her mother’s house with the chocolate cherry coffeecake to congratulate Michelle on winning the evening gown competition.
Hannah was about to head for the turnstile at the exit when she thought about Sinful Pleasures, the deep-fried candy bar booth. She was alone. Pam and Willa had already left. Delores had driven Michelle home, and Lisa and Herb were gone. This was her perfect chance. She could have a deep-fried Milky Way with impunity.
Life is good, Hannah thought, as she freed up a hand and slapped at another mosquito. The only thing that would make this moment better was if she’d remembered to wear insect repellent.
Chapter Five
She had to wait in line for several minutes because there were at least a half-dozen people in front of her, but at last she reached the counter. And since there was no one in line behind her, she had time to chat with Ruby for a moment.
“This is for you, Ruby.” Hannah handed over the cinnamon raisin bread she’d snatched up at the last minute. “It only took an honorable mention, but it should have placed higher. I’ve had it before, and it’s great for toast in the morning.”
“Well, that’s really nice of you,” Ruby said, sounding both surprised and pleased.
“It’s just a little thank-you for defusing the situation with my mother.”
“No problem. Parents are always pulling their kids away from my booth.”
“Yes, but I’ll bet those kids are usually a lot younger.”
“That’s true. But some mothers just can’t seem to let go, even when their kids are grown up. I’m that way myself.”
Hannah stared at Ruby in surprise. She’d assumed Ruby was about her age, but if she had a grown child, she had to be older. “I can’t believe you have a child that old!”
“She’s not really my child. She’s my half-sister, but I raised her when our mother died.”
“How old were you?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.
“Almost eleven.”
Hannah gave a little sigh. When she was eleven, she’d done something similar. Michelle had been a cranky baby and she’d helped to take care of her when Delores had needed a break. But that had been only for an hour or so, a couple of times a week. Hannah couldn’t even imagine shouldering the sole responsibility of motherhood at that age. “How old was your sister?”
“Two and a half. It wasn’t easy, but all the rodeo wives helped. The ones who had kids used to invite Brianna over to play so that I could get some of the housework done. And they were always inviting us over for meals. There was one barrel rider, Missy Daniels, who used to bring us tuna casserole.”
“That was nice.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was the worst tuna casserole I ever tasted. My stepfather, Sam, said we had to be polite and tell her we liked it, so we did. But that backfired.”
“She brought you even more of it?” Hannah guessed.
“That’s right. We had it every Friday night. I still can’t stand the sight of a can of tuna. Anyway, between the wives and the single gals who wanted to pick up on Sam, we got along all right. Of course when we wrapped up the season, it was a lot easier.”
“Why?” Hannah asked, curious about what it would be like to travel with a rodeo.
“We wintered in Florida with Sam’s parents. Bri and I lived with them in Fort Lauderdale. Gram took care of Bri so I could go to school, and Sam spent the winter booking skeleton shows.” Hannah must have looked as confused as she felt, because Ruby hurried to explain. “It’s a pared down show, just the bones. That’s why we call it a skeleton show. It’s really more of a demonstration, and you can put it on in a park, or even a vacant lot.”
“So your stepdad was the booking agent for the show?”
“That and everything else. Sam owns the Great North-western Rodeo and Carnival. He finally gave up Brahma riding last year after he broke his arm twice, but he still keeps his hand in by doing some trick riding. See that Winnebago parked at the edge of the trees?”
Hannah looked in the direction Ruby was pointing. There was a large Winnebago parked behind the midway, just to the left of the Ferris wheel. “I see it.”
“That’s where I grew up. Of course I don’t live there now. Riggs and I have our own trailer. But Sam still lives there with Brianna. She just got engaged to one of the cowboys. He’s a Brahma rider and his name’s Tucker Smith.”
“It must be a very different sort of life,” Hannah mused, wondering how it would feel to travel with a rodeo.
“Oh, it is. We don’t stay anywhere for more than a week, and that means we have to be really self-sufficient.” Ruby stopped talking and gazed over Hannah’s shoulder. “So how about that deep-fried Milky Way? Your mother’s nowhere in sight.”
Hannah laughed. She didn’t know how she could possibly manage it after all the sweet dough breads they’d tasted, but the thought of getting to taste one at last made her mouth start to water. “Well…I really shouldn’t but I guess…” Hannah stopped in midsentence when a voice called her name. She turned to see Norman hurrying across the food court toward her, and she gave a little sigh. She was glad to see him. It wasn’t that. But this was the second time she’d been thwarted in her attempt to taste a
deep-fried candy bar.
“You can’t eat one right now?” Ruby guessed.
“You got it,” Hannah said, and then she turned to give Norman a smile as he arrived at her side. It had been several days since she’d seen him, and it felt good to be with him again.
“Are you going to eat one of those?” he asked, as he arrived at her side.
“No,” Hannah replied. Norman didn’t sound censorious, the way her mother had, but it would be wise to play it safe.
“I need your help, Hannah.” Norman took the pan from her arms and steered her away from the booth, barely giving Hannah time to wave goodbye to Ruby. “I’ve got a problem with my dishwasher.”
Hannah was confused. “‘I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know anything about fixing dishwashers.”
“I know you don’t. And I wasn’t asking you to. All I want you to do is help me pick it out. The brochures for the kitchen appliances came today, and I can’t make up my mind between two models.”
“No problem. I’ll be glad to help you.”
“Thanks, Hannah. I was afraid I’d pick the wrong one.” Norman looked down at the pan he was carrying. “I heard you were filling in for Edna. Is this tonight’s winner?”
“No, it’s part of the third-place entry, a chocolate cherry coffeecake. I’m taking it to Mother.”
“Now?” Norman asked, looking disappointed.
“Now. I’m going to deliver the coffeecake, congratulate Michelle on her win in the evening gown competition, and then I’m going straight home. I think Moishe might be getting sick.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know. It’s probably the heat, but I’m a little worried. He didn’t touch his breakfast.”
“How about dinner?”
“Only a sniff and a lick. And I made him a Denver sandwich without the onions and the bell peppers. I even put in double ham and he still wouldn’t touch it.”
“That sounds serious. How about if I stop at my house to pick up the brochures, and head over to your condo to check on Moishe? Maybe I can get him to eat. When you get home, you can take a quick look and tell me which model is the best.”
