Town in a Lobster Stew

Robbie know. We’re here to help, though of course we will be quite busy. There’s a lot to do. This is an important event for us, you know.”

“I’m sure it is,” Candy said.

“We’re hoping to grow it quite a bit over the next few years. It seems to be quite a popular event around town.”

“Everyone’s talking about it,” Candy confirmed.

Oliver straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. “That’s very gratifying to hear. Well, we both have much to do this morning. Again, I appreciate your help with this, Candy. I’ll check on you in a little while.”

And with that, Oliver moved off across the lawn, motioning for Alby and Robbie to join him.

As Candy wandered back over toward Bumpy’s booth, Maggie intercepted her. “So? What did he want? You guys powwowed for quite a while over there.”

“Oliver wants me to be a judge.”

“A judge? For the cook-off?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“I know. I’m still in shock.”

“So you’re going to do it?” Maggie asked as they started walking back toward Bumpy’s booth together.

“I guess so. I’m supposed to be at the judges’ tent at eleven forty-five. And, oh yeah, I get a badge.”

“Another badge? Two of them?”

“Two of them. And you know what?” She pushed a finger at Maggie’s shoulder. “ You can have one of them.”

“Oh goody! Which one?”

“The press badge, of course. I won’t need it this morning. So you can wear it for me. See, I told you we’d find a badge.”

Maggie beamed and winked at Candy. “You’re a good friend.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Doc asked as they reached the booth.

“Candy’s going to be a judge!” Maggie said, unable to contain her excitement.

“For the cook-off?” Doc looked taken aback.

“For the cook-off,” Candy confirmed.

“Well, that... that’s great, pumpkin,” said Doc, not sounding completely supportive.

The rest of the boys were excited, though. “Congrats,” said Finn, while Artie piped in with, “Way to go, Candy!”

“Wow,” said Bumpy as he looked up from his stew, eyes widening. “How about that!”

Candy made a face at him. “Now don’t get any ideas, Bumpy. I’m going to be as impartial as possible. Besides, it’s a blind test. I won’t know which stew is yours — or at least I’m not supposed to know.”

“Well,” said Bumpy, picking up a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow, “if you happen to taste a stew made with mustard and white wine as its secret ingredients, just remember where it came from. I sure could use some help.”

Candy sighed as she turned and surveyed the field. Her shoulders sagged just a bit as she realized she had a long day ahead of her. “You’re not the only one.”

Fourteen

She ditched her purse in Bumpy’s booth, after removing her reporter’s notebook, a couple of pens, and her cell phone, and received a sworn promise from Finn that he’d keep an eagle eye on it for her. He saluted her. “Consider it under lock and key, your judgeship.”

She left Maggie at the booth as well, stepping in for Artie, who joined Doc in strolling off in search of donuts and coffee for the crew.

Turning to survey the lawn, Candy was trying to figure out her next move when Robbie came running up to her. “Here you go, Candy,” he said, handing her a gold badge with red and gold streamers and the word JUDGE emblazoned across the center in capital letters. “Good luck!” And he was off again, dashing across the lawn toward the inn.

“Thanks,” she said to his disappearing back. “I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

She felt oddly conspicuous as she put on the badge, which looked somewhat gaudy once she’d attached it to her blouse. She glanced around — and had a strange sensation that she’d just become the center of attention.

She hadn’t realized it, but she’d taken a few steps out in front Bumpy’s booth, in clear eyesight of most of the contestants. Some were staring directly at her, while others were trying to be more discreet, but they all knew there was a new judge in town.

Wow, word must have gotten around fast, Candy thought.

She also realized with a mild jolt of surprise that her status with all of them had just changed. She was no longer the folksy community correspondent. She was now the dreaded cook-off judge. A barrier of officialdom had been inexorably erected between her and the contestants, some of them her friends.

Of course, some of them weren’t her friends, and this new promotion probably just made things worse. She didn’t even want to look in Wanda’s direction right now. She knew she’d be slain with daggers. So she turned to her left and let out a breath.

“Oh boy. What have I done?” she asked herself aloud.

She reminded herself that Oliver had pressed this upon her, and she was doing it to help him out. But she decided she was also doing it to help out the town — a sort of civic duty. And that made her feel a little better about it.

A few hours, she told herself, and it’ll be all over. Then I can get back to normal.

Well, as normal as things get around here, she amended.

In the meantime, she might as well enjoy her newfound power.

That made her feel even better.

Her first stop, again, was at Melody’s booth, but this time Melody greeted her with a pleasant yet wary smile, and wasn’t nearly as chatty as she’d been earlier in the day. Burt Ramsay gave her a tip of the spatula as she walked past. Lyra Graveton appeared too busy to talk, humming a show tune to herself as she studied her stew pots, while Tillie Shaw chattered and giggled nervously when Candy stopped to say hello. At the end of the row, Anita Weller, who taught elementary school in a neighboring town, busied herself by cleaning around the cooking area, as if she thought she was being judged on her cleanliness as well as on her culinary skills.

Finally, she met someone who wasn’t intimidated by her. As she reached the end of the row of booths she saw Jesse Kidder, the paper’s photographer, who was taking pictures of the inn, lawn, and contestants’ booths with a wide-angle lens. He was heavily laden down with three cameras and all the accompanying bags and accessories. He wore a floppy khaki hat and a photographer’s vest, pockets bulging.

“I thought I’d start wide and then go in close on the booths,” he told her as he walked toward her. Then he noticed her badge. “Hey, you’re a judge! That’s really cool, Candy.” He backed away and lifted one of the cameras to his eye. “Here, let me get a few shots. Smile!”

Candy did her best as he snapped off a few quick images of her from different angles. “I’ll get more shots of you later on with the other judges at the awards ceremony. Good luck!”

“Thanks, Jesse.” The words came out with an edge of melancholy, but he missed any signal she might have been trying to send him about her uncertainty over her new role, and with a quick farewell he wandered off toward the inn, a camera glued to his face, studying the building’s facade through the lens.

Candy crossed her arms loosely as she lingered in the shade of a wild cherry tree, which still held its last few white blossoms, and turned to survey the lawn. She was trying to gather the courage to visit the booths on the opposite side of the lawn, and wondering again if she should have given in to Oliver’s request, when a soft voice spoke up. “Having second thoughts?”