Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair

by Liz Marvin

“Thank you ma’am.”

  “My name’s Clarise. Clarise Birdsong.” She pointed to the small framed photograph. “Is that your grandmother? You look like her.”

  “That’s my great great grandma Addie. It’s her recipe. She won -”

  And the girl stopped and looked at her shoes again. Clarise made her way around the table, pulled up a chair and sat down beside her. “Did she win the Lofton Fair blue ribbon for that pie recipe?”

  The girl nodded. “You must be very proud and I bet she’d be honored you’re carrying on the family tradition.”

  The young girl looked at Clarise. An open, honest face that carried too much sorrow for such a young age. “I’m not near as good a cook as she and she wasn’t competing against fancy ladies like - “

  Clarise reached out and rested her index finger under the young woman’s chin and lifted her face, forced the young girl to look her in the eye. “The judges don’t go for surface glitz and glamor and they certainly won’t be swayed by social status or intimidation. You made an honest pie and if it tastes as good as it looks and smells you’ll do fine.”

  The girl smiled and her face lit up. “Do you mean it?”

  It was Clarise’s turn to nod. “My name is Adeline but everyone calls me Addie.” She held out her hand and Clarise was glad to shake it.

  “After your grandmother. Well, Addie, it is a pleasure to meet you. Is this your first fair? Have you had a chance to explore?”

  “Oh no I don’t have – I don’t have the time.”

  She lied terribly. No practice at all, thought Clarise. She stepped around the table and took Addie by the arm and led her toward the exit. “Well I seem to have lost my friend who is one of the judges in the cooking competition and if you’d come help me look for her I’ll buy you some cotton candy.”

  The girls eyes grew wide “Or kettle popcorn?” Clarise laughed “Oh I know just the place. Come on.”

  The two women, arm in arm headed for the exit but Thelma was gossiping with Marlee May and when they spied Clarise leaving they cut her off.

  “You had better head for the nurse’s tent. Betty has made a complete spectacle of herself as usual.” Thelma was in rare form, even for her.

  Clarise stiffened. Betty in trouble? Hurt? Sick? Thelma said no more and Clarise was more than ready to wait her out. It was Addie’s turn to jump to the rescue. “Thank you, we were just going to look for her.”

  And she pulled Clarise with her towards the exit. “Wait!” yelled Marlee May but Clarise and Addie did not wait and continued out into the fair.

  ~

  Betty awoke on a cot in a clean white tent. A heavy set black woman in a crisp white nurse’s uniform was standing at a counter filling out some paperwork but she stopped when she saw Betty trying to sit up. She sat down beside Betty, supporting her with one arm and holding a glass of water for her to sip.

  “You gave us quite a scare Miss Crawford.”

  “My purse-”

  The nurse laughed. A hearty belly laugh. “It’s right here. I had to pry it loose even with you out cold. I hear you won the pie eating contest.”

  Betty nodded, ashamed. “I shouldn’t have”

  Again she laughed “Well if that’s the most embarrassing thing in the world you’ve done I’d say you’re ahead of me and everybody else in Lofton. Now take another sip.”

  Betty took a drink and felt a little better. “You don’t understand. I – I have diabetes.”

  The nurse frowned. “Type one or type two?”

  “Type two. I don’t need insulin.”

  “What was your last A one C test?”

  Betty had to think. The test was a month or so ago. The doctor said it was all right and she hadn’t paid much attention after that but he had told her – think! She had to think! “I think it was six or maybe five point something.”

  The nurse went to the counter and returned with Betty’s purse. “You have a blood glucose monitor in here?” Betty nodded. The nurse took it out, turned it on then opened the plastic case containing the small plastic test strips and inserted one. Finally she daubed Betty’s finger with an alcohol swab and pricked it. She was a real pro; Betty barely felt it. The nurse collected the small droplet of blood and they both waited what seemed like minutes but was in reality only a few seconds.

  The meter beeped and the readout displayed one hundred ninety six. The nurse let out a breath and stood up, returning with two eight ounce glasses of water. “Drink these up. Fast as you can but don’t go making yourself sick again. I’ll brew up some tea.”

  Betty finished the second glass just as the nurse arrived with a cup of tea. “This is huckleberry tea. Some folks call it bilberry but not around here. It’ll lower your blood sugar. Chamomile tea works too but not in the same way. Huckleberry alters proteins that trigger insulin production while chamomile slows the production of a sugar called sorbitol which most type two diabetics don’t metabolize very well.”

  Betty wasn’t sure about folk medications but the nurse was giving her scientific explanations so maybe they weren’t really folk remedies after all. Even if it was, what was the word? Homeopathic. Betty figured beggars can’t be choosers and she was here so she took a sip. It tasted good. “So my kidneys aren’t going to fail I’m not going to go blind and die?”

  The nurse laughed again. “No, honey, you don’t have diabetic ketoacidosis and those aren’t the symptoms even if you did. Don’t fret, one binge of sugar won’t kill you. As they say in the medical books temporary hyperglycemia is often benign and asymptomatic and blood glucose levels can rise well above normal for significant periods without producing any permanent effects or symptoms - but you still have to be careful. Binge eating is no laughing matter. Over time you really could hurt yourself.”

  Betty nodded, miserable again. The nurse laid her hand on her shoulder. “Look at me. I am no spring chicken and nobody will mistake me for a New York runway model. I don’t have diabetes yet and I’m doing everything I can to keep from getting it but just about everyone in my family eventually comes down with it so I know what I’m talking about. You on Metformin?

  Betty nodded again. “Five hundred milligrams a day”

  The nurse shrugged it off. “That’s a child’s dose. Tonight when you get home, you have a glass – one glass of red wine and maybe salad with low carbohydrate dressing and a few shrimp for dinner. And don’t go skipping any meals! Get back to several small meals instead of one big one and start today.”

  “Can you be my doctor? I like your prescriptions a lot more than his!”

  Again the woman laughed heartily. “I’m just glad you’re okay and you’re taking care of yourself. You’re young. Keep exercising and stay away from pie eating contests and you’ll be fine.

  Betty slipped back into misery. “I’m one of this year’s cooking judges.”

  “And they made you enter the pie eating contest? Must have been Thelma Johnson.”

  Betty nodded and looked at her caretaker wonderingly.

  “Oh it’s no surprise. I’ve known her all my life. She’s a selfish old biddy who is just intent on going through life doing more harm than good.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Gladys. Nurse Gladys McRorie.”

  Betty finished her tea, stood up and faced Gladys. “Well Gladys McRorie thank you for saving my foolish life and for being so darn nice about it.”

  The two women laughed and hugged and exchanged kisses on the cheek which was just how Clarise and Addie found them.

  ~

  The four women were seated in the first aid tent laughing. Addie was eating kettle corn and finally relaxed. Clarise was just finishing her story about her run in with the Civil War re-enactors and both Betty and Gladys were trying to catch their breath from laughing so hard.

  Then it was Betty’s turn to regale the crowd with the story of her pie eating contest victory.

  Both the story and the laughter were interrupted by the arrival of the Lofton chief of poli
ce. Bill was ashen until he saw Betty sitting up, laughing and all right with friends. The relief on his face, the look in his eyes made Betty turn to jelly. She leapt up and hugged him.

  “I’m sorry Bill.”

  He hugged her back, then looked her over. “I hear you won a pie eating contest fought off a mugger and passed out or were knocked unconscious. Witnesses aren’t sure.”

  “Well now neither are we” Clarise broke in “And you darn well spoiled the story and I bet her version is funnier too.”

  Bill looked at Clarise coldly. “It isn’t funny. None of this is. There’s a bad gang of people out there and they’re getting away with everything short of murder. You should know.”

  It was Betty’s turn to turn on Clarise. “Why should you know?”

  Clarise found something interesting to look at that wasn’t Betty. “Maybe because somebody picked my back pocket.”

  “Which you conveniently left out of your story.”

  Clarise humphed. “As if you’d let a little detail spoil a good story.”

  Betty had no answer for that. She turned to Bill, leaned into him, looked up at him. “You’ll stop them Bill, I know you will.”

  Bill sighed and sat down, pulling Betty onto his knee. Betty did not mind one bit.

  “Either that or I’ll make it just hot enough for them to take their ill-gotten gains and disappear. I can’t let that happen or they’ll be back again next year and if that happens it’ll be the beginning of the end for the Lofton country fair.”

  “It has to be a team or a gang of some sort. I’d bet they’re pros too, from out of town.” Betty added, “That should narrow it down a little.”

  “There are twenty times more tourists than locals. Maybe more and before you blame the carnival company they’re all bonded and insured. But you’re right about them being pros.”

  Gladys nodded her agreement. Addie looked around, frightened. Clarise wrapped her arms around herself and hugged and Betty hugged Bill.

  They sat together in silence until Thelma Johnson burst in, yelling “Help! Help! Oh my heavens above it’s terrible! Terrible!”

  Bill jumped to his feet so quickly Betty barely had time to land on her own feet. “What happened?”

  “No time! Just come quickly! Now!”

  Thelma led the way and everyone followed.

  7. Chapter 6

  A large angry crowd was milling around the tent with the large BBQ sign above it. The barbecue tent was situated right beside the cooking competition tent. Bill recognized many in the crowd as pickpocket victims including the haughty lady with a dark pink dress and oversized hat. Betty saw that the cooking competition tent was askew. They were holding hands, running toward the crowd, unconscious of what they were doing but let go as they neared the scene.

  Wes was at the front of the crowd, his hands up, trying to calm things down. “All right folks the barbecue pit has run out of food but there’s more coming so just be patient for a few more minutes.” Bill joined him. “We’ve sent someone next door to check on supplies right now!”

  Betty paused at the tent’s entrance long enough to shoot him an incredulous look. Bill, grim faced, just nodded. Betty nodded back and stepped inside followed by Addie and Clarise

  They were met with chaos.

  The back of the tent was shredded with three large gashes that ran from the roof line to the ground. The tables were surrounded by contestants and their families. Men were either yelling for the police or someone, anyone in authority or milling about silently but clearly just as angry with their fists stuffed deep into their pockets. Women and children were crying and everywhere food displays were damaged or destroyed.

  “What happened?” Clarise asked, awestruck by the carnage.

  “I’d say somebody snuck in and vandalized the place.”

  “But why? And why wasn’t anyone here?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. Where’s Thelma?” Betty asked

  “That’s what we all want to know!” An angry man stood beside an oversized steel serving tray filled to overflowing with barbecue meat. “And where have you been? Look at this! Just look at it!”

  Betty obliged. It looked delicious. She dipped her finger in and tasted. It was good. “So? What seems to be the problem?”

  This just infuriated the man even more. “Problem! It’s been ruined! Somebody mixed up all the barbecues together! There’s fifty pounds of beef ruined!”

  A slow smile spread over Betty’s face. “Maybe, maybe not. Would you and the other competitors donate this to help the fair?”

  “Why? It’s slop!”

  “Now wait a minute! I’m a judge in this competition and I happen to know that everybody competing here is a good cook and my neighbor and I won’t stand by and let you disparage them or their cooking by calling it slop. Win or lose I’d break bread with all of them and I hope you feel the same!”

  The man took a step back. “I wasn’t saying they’re not good cooks at all I was just saying that our recipes don’t necessarily mix together right. Honest.”

  “Well I say they do!” Betty raised her voice “I know you’ve all been violated and you’re all disappointed but there’s a group of people, strangers, that have come to our fair and been robbed. They’ve been violated and they’re disappointed too but they’re alone and far from home with nowhere to turn. We can’t fix that but we can let them know we care and they aren’t alone. Will you do that?”

  A reluctant and somewhat halfhearted cheer rose from the crowd. Betty accepted it as an assent.

  “Then I need two hundred pieces of corn bread and two hundred slices of pie or cake and I don’t care how you patch them together and -” she pointed to the kettle of barbecue “two hundred servings of barbecue!” Let’s go! Start plating meals!

  “Sheesh. Winning that pie eating contest has sure gone to her head!”

  “More like her big behind!”

  “Hush!”

  Betty ignored them all but was pleased to see almost everyone forming themselves into groups and carrying out her instructions with only a modicum of grousing. The man she had first confronted sidled up to her. “They don’t mean nothing. Just grumbling.”

  “I know. Thanks for pitching in.”

  “Mind you, I’d be griping too if you weren’t so gol danged right.” He said it with a smile and a hug and a pat on the back. He went to work and in no time had the barbecue portion of the plating process running like clockwork.

  Betty looked around and spotted Clarise and Addie in the far corner. Clarise was comforting the young girl. Something more than the pie was gone but she didn’t have time to stick around and find out what it was. She was certain Clarise could handle it anyway.

  ~

  The plates of food were being passed out as fast as they were being delivered by the time Betty reached Bill. He and Wes had the crowd organized into a line and they were making sure no one tried anything funny like cutting to the front or snatching a purse.

  The people were pleased with the food and she heard nothing but raves from everyone.

  “Amazing what a good meal can do for an angry crowd’s mood.” Bill quipped. He was alert as ever but he was smiling and relaxed for the first time all day. Betty hated to ruin his mood.

  “We have another problem. Someone vandalized the cooking competition tent and destroyed all the food. On the plus side that’s what they’re eating. On the down side, there goes the evidence and the cooking competition.”

  “Lofton is indeed blessed with a bountiful supply of good cooks” He squeezed her hand.

  Betty sighed. For her that was as much a curse as a blessing. “I sure as heck don’t know what we’re going to do about the cooking competition.”

  “That makes two of us but on the bright side I’m not worried a bit.” He grinned as he leaned over and kissed her on her forehead. “Because I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  Betty wanted to punch him but she adored him and anyway he was way ov
er her weight class.

  “Oh Betty! What have you done?!”

  Thelma was back with Marlee May in tow. Marlee May’s right hand was heavily bandaged and Thelma was looking positively theatrical in her distress.

  Betty’s face darkened enough for Bill to step between her and Thelma but a battle royal was averted or at least postponed by chef Achmed O’Rielly popping out from the front of the cooking competition tent and proclaiming “Don’t worry I have everything under control!”

  ~

  Achmed wisely sat between Betty and Thelma. Thelma took down each contestant’s name, the recipe they would be making and assigned them a number. Achmed kept the list of ingredients each would need and Betty assigned a work station and time.

  Somehow Achmed had arranged for restaurant equipment suppliers to loan equipment and food suppliers to donate food. The deliveries would happen late in the afternoon and he promised the tent would be set up for cooking by morning.

  “This will be the best cooking competition the Lofton Fair has ever had! I’ll be talking to radio stations later and I’m sure we’ll have a live broadcast here and a lot of reporters.”

  Betty was impressed not only by his energy and organizational skills but by his unflagging good humor and generosity. How did he do it? And he never seemed to acknowledge anything as a problem and never lost his temper. She decided then and there that she could be jealous of him or she could try and learn from him and she would choose the latter.

  Clarise and Addie approached the table together. Addie spoke so softly that Betty couldn’t hear her talking to Thelma but Thelma leaned back and sat bolt upright. “Absolutely not!”

  Achmed and Betty stopped what they were doing. The contestants they were helping stopped talking too.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Achmed asked in his most bored, amused voice.

  “This woman wants to make two recipes.”

  “But it’s not really - “Clarise interjected.

  “Let her speak for herself!” demanded Thelma.

  “All right that’s enough. Clarise what is going on?” Betty was standing, leaning on the table glaring at Thelma.