by Agatha Ball
I guess that's how she managed to stay in business all these years. She didn't hesitate. She saw an opportunity and leaped. I wondered if I would ever have the foresight and fearlessness she had.
Nate was leading the judges from one booth to the next, keeping them entertained and focused, when a piece of electric purple paper suddenly blew against my ankle. It reminded me of the letter that had been shoved through the front door of Bitter Beans warning me to stay away from the bakeoff.
I reached down.
It was a photograph. I squinted to see the faces. It was Bryce and Shelia, lips locked in a passionate embrace in Trevor's Saloon the night of the opening party dinner. I looked up and realized the garden was covered. Someone had just dumped a box of the flyers, letting the wind do the distribution for them.
I ran out, trying to collect as many as I possibly could. Not that I wanted to protect a jerk of a judge and this creepy contestant from the repercussions of their actions. Heck, they were guilty of the very violation that got Granny booted, and Granny hadn't even done anything. But for those who may never have been to Seaside before, tawdry fliers littering the landscape wasn't a good first impression.
Nate suddenly realized something was going on. He came over to me and asked, "What's that?"
By this point, the judges realized something was amiss, too. I held out a flyer to Nate. His face became pale and he walked over to the judges.
By this time, some of the other contestants had spotted the flyers, too.
"Are you kidding me?" Kylie shrieked. She held up the flyer and rattled it at Bryce. "You said you wanted to rekindle our relationship and that I was the only one you thought about and dreamed about! And you did THIS?!"
"It's not what you think!" he tried to explain.
"What? That you cheated on me AND you cheated in this competition?"
Nate held up his hands, trying to diffuse the situation. "We have guests at the gate. If you would please return to your booths, we will get this all sorted out."
Nate, Madison, and the judges all huddled together at the far end of the garden. The conversation was intense. I tried to maintain a friendly demeanor as the public started coming up, wanting a taste, but I kept glancing over from the corner of my eye.
Shelia's face was as scarlet as a red velvet cake. Finally, she bowed her head, reached out, shook everyone's hand, and then headed toward the hotel.
Solemnly, the judges walked over to Bryce's booth. His face paled with shock at whatever they were telling him. He cast his eyes to the ground. He sniffed his piggy nose and I think he was going to cry. I'd feel bad if he hadn't been so awful to everyone. Then he nodded, leaving his food at his booth, and left.
And then suddenly, the remaining judges were all at my booth.
"Um... hi?" I said, not sure why they were here rather than at the tasting table.
"Due to potentially influencing the competition, Shelia will no longer be judging the bakeoff," Nate informed me in a very formal, serious tone.
"We wanted to apologize," spat Victor, "and assure you that Bryce has been disqualified. All judging will be done impartially and fairly..." he paused for a moment. "Well, from this point out." He motioned to Lorraine. "In light of losing one of our judges, Lorraine has very kindly offered to step into Shelia's place."
She flashed her beauty pageant smile. "It's just so fortunate that I took that role where I played a chef. I'm a method actor," she reminded me, placing her hand on her heart. "And I can assure you that I have a palate for excellence."
Whoever the masked judge was coughed uncomfortably into his fist.
"Thank you," I mumbled as they moved on to the next booth to explain what was going on.
I hated the thought that popped next into my mind, but I couldn't help it. Lorraine was practically preening as she spoke to another baker.
Two judges had been eliminated, one replaced by Lorraine and one replaced by a friend of hers. Was she just being helpful? Or did she have an ulterior motive? Who knows? Maybe she was preparing for a role as a psychopath and decided to use this baking competition as research for the role. She was method, after all.
A three-piece high school band took to the gazebo and began playing some really lovely jazz music, and I took a deep breath. Granny raised a coffee cup to me in support. It was my job now to keep this party fun. All this drama would be for naught if the tourists didn't enjoy themselves enough to come back.
About an hour into it, I noticed that the crowd was becoming lighter. I looked around, not sure if I should be surprised or not. I mean, our audience was mainly from the ferry, but it seemed strange that everyone would be done in about an hour.
I looked over at the hotel, and there was a line of people out the front door. Were they all checking in? It seemed like a lot. And then I noticed that people were clutching their stomachs. And then I noticed the judges running through the doors. Henrietta dashed out of the hotel to hand out plastic bags and washcloths. People were hurling right and left.
Nate came over, carrying a Rubbermaid bucket.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Something made everyone sick," he said. "I need to collect all of the food."
"Oh no..." I replied.
He shook his head wearily. "This was supposed to increase word of mouth. This was not the sort of word of mouth I wanted."
Madison suddenly sidled up. Her face was pinched and strained, but she was still up for pushing her own spin. "Nate, all press is good press."
"Not if the press is that something gave everyone food poisoning."
"If you had sold to the cruise ship, this would never have happened," she replied. "It's not too late."
"Can it, Madison," said Nate, not quite snapping but I could see he was being pushed to the harried edge. "This is not the time."
She shrugged. "You have my number if you decide you're interested. You may not like me, but I may be Seaside's only hope."
"It's like she wants us to fail..." I muttered as soon as she stepped out of earshot.
"Believe me, the thought crossed my mind," admitted Nate. He then focused back at the task at hand. "But in the meantime, I need to collect a sample for testing and have you throw everything else away. We're going to take everyone's punch cards to see if there are any commonalities."
I looked sadly at my pile of cinnamon rolls. I sure hoped that I hadn't created any food aversions. This bakeoff was turning into such a disaster.
From the look on Nate's face, he was feeling even worse about it than me.
I walked out from around my booth and gave him a great big hug. "You're doing great," I reminded him. "You're trying your very best to help people, but someone is working very hard to make sure you don't succeed."
He pulled back and examined my face. "Do you really think that?"
I thought back to all of the things that had happened. "It might not be personal, but it sure feels personal."
"Who would be so angry that they would do anything to make sure I fail?"
We both turned at the same time to look at Madison.
"I mean... she wouldn't really... would she?" he asked.
I almost didn't want to admit how much time we had to stand there before dismissing the idea.
"Naaaaw..." I said, trying not to accuse the innocent. I mean, I had made that mistake before and had promised myself not to jump to conclusions. But then Trevor walked by in his seal suit. "I mean... well..."
"Maybe," Nate and I said in unison.
Chapter Thirteen
Richard strolled over as I was cleaning up my booth. The garden was empty, the party most definitely done.
He gave me a sympathetic grimace. "Oh, Paige. Such a tragedy to have a bake as good as yours go into the trash. They really looked like something special." He held up his punch card. "You were first on my list."
I shrugged, trying not to show how much it was actually bothering me, and folded up the tablecloth. "It's fine. Come down to Bitter Beans and I'll bake yo
u up a batch with no punch card required."
He shoved his hands into his trousers. I could see he had really taken pride in getting dressed up this morning. His shoes had a shine, everything was pressed neatly, he even matched his bow tie to the suspenders I could see peeking out underneath his blazer.
"I've never seen anything like this," he stated, shaking his head as he watched all of the dispirited contestants packing it in. "Not in all my years." His face turned dark. "Only thing different this time than all the other times is that new judge. They never should have disqualified your grandmother and impugned my reputation."
"I have a feeling that what's going on here has more to do with wanting our island to fail than your organization," I tried to reassure him.
"Who would want this charming island to fail?" he asked with horror, motioning to the rose bushes and blue skies. "It is a paradise!"
I smiled. He had such a way of looking on the bright side of things.
But then his face fell. "All I know is that our organization is done for. All this scandal and sabotage? What contestant would sign up to be a part of something like this again?"
It dawned on me that meant he was out of a job. "Oh my," I said, reaching out to him. "What will you do? Will you be okay?"
He waved away my concerns. "Oh, I'm old and retired. This was just a little side hobby for some pocket change. I had a long and illustrious career as a chemist back when I was young. Perhaps that's why I was drawn to baking. It really is all chemistry, isn't it? Precision and knowing how things will react to each other is key."
"Totally!" I replied.
He looked past the gate toward the town. "Perhaps this is just a sign it is time for me to downsize." He smiled at me warmly. "Perhaps just the excuse I need to pack up all my things and move into a cottage on the hill next to you."
It dawned on me I had never mentioned where I was living to him. "Oh! You know the cottages where I'm staying?" I remarked.
He looked like he had been caught talking out of school. He stammered, "Your grandmother mentioned it. I asked if you lived with her and she told me about the cottages. And then Bryce mentioned it, too. He was complaining about how rustic it all was and that he couldn't believe people actually lived up there, and then mentioned you were his neighbor."
It figured that Bryce was whining. But before I could say anything else, Granny came over. She was wearing a tight sweater covered in rhinestone coffee beans. She hooked her arm through the crook of Richard's elbow. "What are you two gossiping about?" she asked.
"Oh, nothing..." Richard replied. "Just the cottages on the island."
"They really are lovely," she said. "You like it up there, don't you Paige?"
I nodded. "They're a little isolated, but I'm going to be sad to leave it."
"Leave it?" asked Richard. "Where are you going?"
"She's just here for the summer," Granny said. "Sure am going to miss her help."
"And where will you be returning to?"
I shrugged. "Still figuring that out. I really wanted to get some more training. My dream was to use this competition to help me to get into the Cordon Bleu, but..."
We all looked around at the disaster of the day.
"Well, there's no training quite like hands-on experience," he replied, sagely.
"I'm so sorry this hands-on experience has been so terrible, Paige," said Granny, her face wrinkling with regret. "Your cinnamon rolls are legendary. For something like this to happen... for everyone to get sick..."
"It's just so weird," I replied. I gave them the full rundown on the flyers, and how Shelia and Bryce had been disqualified. They both looked shocked.
"Is that what was going on?" asked Richard. "I saw Shelia leave, but I didn't understand why. After everyone became ill, I just assumed she was the first victim. She and Bryce were an item?"
"Explains all of his wins," I noted.
Richard's face darkened as he looked off toward the hotel. "I never would have thought that she... She was always the epitome of professionalism. I suppose it was all just a smoke screen to keep us from guessing what was going on behind closed doors." He patted Granny's hand. "Would you mind if I excused myself? I feel I need to go talk to Victor and Shelia about what has gone on. We probably will need to make a phone call to the central organization to let them know. I assume Victor will be making the call, but... well, with a man like him, sometimes you don't want him to be the bearer of bad news. He has a tendency to make everything sound a little worse."
"I'm not sure how one could over exaggerate the disaster today was," I remarked.
"Oh, you do not know Victor," Richard replied wryly. "Hopefully I'll see you later."
Granny gave him a peck on the cheek and watched him fondly as he toodled away.
"He's a good man," she replied. "And I'm so glad he's here to take care of things."
Chapter Fourteen
I gripped my pint glass as Trevor pushed a plate of popcorn in front of Johnny and me with his flippers. His face came out of the costume where the seal's mouth should be, causing the upper jaw to almost sit like a baseball cap on his forehead. It was all so grim, I couldn't even bring myself to give him a hard time about becoming Seaside's latest mascot.
"Sorry the bakeoff is going so bad," Trevor said.
"Thanks," I replied. "Sorry you're still stuck in that seal costume."
"Madison says I can take it off if the bakeoff is canceled. Said we'll have to rebrand. She's talking about clams." He shook his body, because his neck couldn't bend in the costume, in disgust. "I mean, not even a shark or a dolphin or something. A clam."
"A fish is more than his flippers." Johnny reached out his fist. "Keep clam and carry on, dude."
Trevor gave Johnny a floppy bump of solidarity and then walked away, looking as miserable as I was feeling.
Nate left the table with the judges and sidled into the booth beside me. He looked worn out. He reached out for a couple kernels of popcorn and I used the excuse to brush my hand up against his. He gripped my fingers and gave me an appreciative squeeze.
"So... like... what's the deal?" asked Johnny. "Like, are things done or are we still doing the dealio?"
"For now?" Nate said, leaning his elbows on the thickly veneered tabletop, "It looks like things are going forward."
I let out a huge exhale. Part of me had been thinking how nice it would be for the whole mess to be canceled, but I didn't realize until he said it was moving forward how much I, in fact, wanted to keep going.
"Any word what made people so sick?" I asked.
"Syrup of ipecac."
"What?" I said, making sure I heard him correctly.
"It was in the frosting of Bryce's brownies. He used what he thought was maple flavored extract to kick the flavor up a notch, but looks like someone switched the bottles."
"That's awful!" I said.
"Yeah, not cool ruining good brownies," added Johnny.
Nate shrugged. "Hopefully this will be the end of it, though. Whoever was out to take him down had done double duty. If the flyers didn't do it, the vomiting would. But now that he's gone and Sheila's gone... Well, hopefully everything will be back to normal tomorrow."
I grimaced. "But what about the island?"
Nate shook his head. "We gave vouchers for a free night at the Grand Hotel to everyone who was sick and refunded their ferry money." He wiped his face with his hands. "Maybe I should have just sold the island to the cruise ships."
Johnny reached across the table and socked Nate in the arm. "Don't even joke about something like that. As your newly minted co-owner founder cousin, I'm saying that's not ever a possibility ever."
Nate laughed ruefully and rubbed his bicep. "Johnny has spoken. Case closed."
"Darn tootin'," said Johnny, picking up his water glass and guzzling it down.
"It's a relief that it might all be over," I said. "To just be able to bake and not have to worry about anything?"
"It still makes me wonder who h
as this vendetta. They went to a lot of trouble."
I snuggled against his shoulder. "Well, I shouldn't say this but I, for one, am not actually too heartbroken about Bryce and Shelia being taken down a peg."
"Yeah?" replied Nate, putting his arm around me. "Should I put you down as our prime suspect? Get Stan and Fred to grill you?"
"Bryce was always trying to get into people's heads and make them doubt themselves. And then to find out that he and Shelia were in cahoots? Not that Kylie is such a great human being, but for years she has placed second to Bryce and felt like she was doing something wrong. And it wasn't her!" I paused for a moment. "I wonder if Richard or Victor ever suspected..."
We all sat in silence and contemplated the idea.
"I mean, Victor probably wouldn't have cared. In fact, I think he was going around making all sorts of promises to the lady contestants last night."
"Really?" asked Nate. "Did he say something to you?"
"He's a total creeper," I replied. "Nothing overt, but it sure felt like he was coming on a little too strong." I then thought some more. "And Richard is so noble. He even refused to serve as a judge when his reputation was impugned by Madison. I can't imagine him hanging around if he knew something like this was happening."
"Yeah, he quit just before everything went down. Did he get lucky or what!" exclaimed Johnny.
The thought had never occurred to me. Nate and I looked at each other.
"He did leave just before everything started happening," Nate pointed out. "And his sense of honor is pretty black and white. Do you think he would ruin the bakeoff if he found out the whole thing had been rigged for years?"
I thought of Richard with his sweet, white mustache and plaid bowties. He seemed like such a nice guy. And Granny liked him so much. And then I thought back about our conversations. He had been a chemist. He knew where I lived and where Bryce was living. He probably could have even gotten into the baking room without raising any red flags because he was still, technically, a part of the judging team, even if he had excused himself.
