Oliver shook both their hands, and then she and Roger stood together on the proprietor’s right. Wanda Boyle stood on his left, looking smug and confident, as if she’d just won the lottery.
The words of Judicious came back to her at that moment:
Candy was doing her best.
“Here we go,” Oliver said dramatically. He checked his sheet, adjusted his reading glasses, then continued, “And our third runner-up is... Melody Barnes from Melody’s Café!”
Upon hearing her name, Melody beamed, waved her hand high in the air so everyone would know where she was, and worked her way through the crowd to the podium. She shook hands with Oliver, Wanda, and the two judges, and Oliver proudly awarded her a small trophy in the shape of a golden lobster, along with a white ribbon, as Jesse Kidder snapped a few photos of her.
Candy applauded warmly along with the crowd, pleased her friend had made the final cut. That meant Melody’s stew had been the corn-colored one with the huge chunks of lobster meat. She should have guessed. She had it as number two on her list, while Roger had it as number three on his.
“Next,” Oliver said, “our second-place winner is” — again he paused as he checked the name — “Tillie Shaw!”
The endlessly enthusiastic farmer’s wife gave a quick shout of joy, jumped up and down, and applauded herself as she trotted to the podium and shook hands with everyone, then collected her trophy and red ribbon. She stood next to Melody at one side of the podium, barely able to contain herself. Candy again applauded with the others. That had been one of Roger’s choices, a stew Candy had found a little bland and underwhelming. It hadn’t been in her top six. Nevertheless, he had insisted.
“Finally,” Oliver said, waving the paper in his hand, “we’ve come to the moment you’ve been waiting for all morning. Here we go. The winner of the Twenty-Ninth Annual Cape Willington Lobster Stew Cook-off is” — another dramatic pause as the crowd waited in hushed anticipation — “Juanita Perez from Duffy’s Main Street Diner!”
A few in the crowd gasped as others burst into applause. Candy heard Doc and the boys join in, adding a few whistles and cheers of congratulations to the warm ovation, which grew louder as Juanita emerged from a group of friends and made her way to the podium. She wore an ankle-length denim skirt and a stylish white blouse with silver jewelry. Straight black hair tumbled down her back. She smiled sweetly, dark eyes gleaming as she shook hands with Oliver, Wanda, Roger, and then Candy.
“Nice job, Juanita!” Candy congratulated her as they shook hands. “You made a wonderful stew.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you!” She seemed on the verge of speechlessness.
It had been a fairly simple stew, Candy knew, with few ingredients other than cream, butter, beautifully cooked lobster, and carefully chosen spices, including cayenne. It had been one of Candy’s top three choices. After much contemplation, she had placed it as number three on her own list. But Roger’s enthusiasm, which he credited to that bite of heat provided by the cayenne, had elevated Juanita’s stew to the top of their combined list.
So Candy knew who had cooked two of the stews on her list. She had placed Melody second and Juanita third in her own ranking.
But, she wondered as Juanita received a trophy and blue ribbon, who had made her personal favorite stew — the one at the top of her list, the one with the sweet hint of cinnamon? She had to admit, of all the very good stews she had tasted today, it had emerged a winner, clearly the best one. Even now, as she thought about it, her mouth watered.
But then she shuddered as a particularly distasteful thought ran through her mind.
What if it was Wanda Boyle’s stew?
If Wilma Mae was right and Wanda had stolen Mr. Sedley’s recipe, then Candy had indeed put Wanda Boyle’s stew at the top of her own list, even though Roger had been less than impressed by it.
Suddenly, she realized, she had to know who had made it. If she could find that out, it would either prove or disprove Wilma Mae’s accusation once and for all.
Her gaze shifted back and forth across the tent. The easiest way to find out, she thought, would be to get a quick look at the clipboard in Robbie’s hands, for it held the sheet Oliver had reviewed to determine the names of the winning contestants.
She looked around and finally spotted the teenager off to one side, talking to a large, burly man with sandy- colored hair, wearing a dark green shirt and jeans. He looked vaguely familiar, and Candy wondered where she’d seen him before. Then she remembered. He had been working in the maintenance shed out at the lighthouse when she had visited on Thursday.
They were talking in low tones, rather intensely, she thought. Robbie looked upset.
Roger leaned in close to her again, so their shoulders touched. “I think we chose the right one,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
Candy looked around. Juanita stood at the podium, holding up her trophy and ribbon, a huge smile on her face as Jesse shot a few photos and the crowd continued to applaud.
“Oh, absolutely,” Candy agreed. She glanced toward Roger and found herself gazing straight into his shining dark eyes. In that moment she found them oddly compelling. What was she reading in those eyes? she wondered. Was he just being friendly, or was there more to that look of his? Was Maggie right? Was he ogling her?
And, if so, was that such a bad thing?
She had to force herself to shift her gaze back toward the podium. “Um, yeah, she seems overjoyed. And she deserves to be — her stew was very good.”
“It certainly was.” Together they watched as Juanita accepted congratulations from others, including many of the contestants. Burt Ramsay, Lyra Graveton, Delilah Daggerstone, Walter Gruthers, and Anita Weller were gathered around her, shaking her hand and congratulating her and the other winners. Jesse remained in the midst of the pandemonium, snapping photos. Juanita’s close friend Dolores, who also worked at the diner, gave her a tight hug, and Doc, Bumpy, and the boys were standing in line to congratulate her, since they knew her well from the diner.
But where had Wanda gone? She was curiously absent from the conclusion of the proceedings, Candy realized, when she should rightfully be deep in the thick of it, given her position as comanager.
Candy searched the tent but could see no sign of the woman.
Had she hightailed it out of there when she found out she wasn’t the winner? Could she be that sore of a loser?
As the crowd began to disperse, Roger turned to face her and casually reached out to take her hand. His touch felt warm and oddly sensual. “Well, it’s been great working with you today, Candy,” he said in smooth tones, holding her hand lightly. “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”
Candy resisted an urge to remove her hand from his, thinking it might appear rude. Instead, she smiled in a pleasant, noncommittal sort of way. “It was nice working with you too, Roger. That was a lot of fun. And thanks for all your help. Without your advice, I probably would have looked like an idiot today.”
Roger gave her a doubtful look. “You? Never. You did great, stepping in at the last minute like that. You should be proud. It’s too bad about your friend Mrs. Wendell, though. I hope she isn’t too banged up.”
“Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s resting right now.”
“That’s good to hear. And what a shame about Mr. Sedley. It’s too bad he couldn’t join us either.”
“Yeah, it is. I think he was really looking forward to it.”
“I’m sure he was. I hope he turns up soon.” He glinted up at the sun, then looked around, his gaze focusing in the distance. Abruptly he released her hand. “Well, I think it’s time for me to push on. I’m sure we’ll get a chance to meet again soon. Ah, look, here comes Ben.” He pointed across the lawn.
Candy turned to watch Ben walk toward them with long, athletic strides. He was looking particularly handsome today, his hair tussled, his face sun kissed, evidence of the many hours he spent outdoors.
Roger’s move had been clearly calculated, she knew. What was he up to?
“So,” Candy said curiously, turning back to him, “what have you two got planned for this afternoon?”
Roger grinned. “There’s a Red Sox game on at one,” he said in a tone that told her it was time to get away from this boring event and into some real fun. “Ben and I are headed to this sports bar he’s told me about. We
