Eggs Benedict Arnold (53 page)

Toni, who
had relinquished ice cream duties to Kit, perched at one of
the tables, clinking her fork against her glass.

“
Attention, please!
”
called Doogie, obviously relishing
his role as judge and jury.
“
Petra and I are about to announce
the division winners in the cake-decorating contest!
”

A burst of applause followed and chairs were scooted
around so everyone could face front. Laura Benchley crept
toward them down the center aisle and snapped another quick photo.

Petra took a step forward and began.
“
After careful consideration and delicious deliberation Sheriff Doogie
and I have determined grand prize winners as well as first
runner-ups in the Cackleberry Club
’
s first annual Take the Cake cake-decorating contest.
”

More bursts of applause echoed through the tent as Suzanne slipped into a seat beside Toni and grinned. Some
how, they
’
d managed to pull it off! Now if they could only
get through tonight!

“
Take the Cake
’
s a hit!
”
said Toni, clapping and adding
a few high-pitched whistles for punctuation.

“
Thank goodness,
”
murmured Suzanne.

“
We
’
ll have to make it a permanent event,
”
said Toni.

Suzanne nodded as she glanced around the tent, where
good fellowship and a definite sugar high seemed to prevail. In fact, two tables down, Carmen Copeland leaned over to whisper in the ear of Ray Lynch. And not just a discreet, casual whisper, either. Carmen had a distinctly flirty, conspiratorial look about her, while her body language projected something akin to
Look at me, I
’
m still a little hottie.

Suzanne nudged Toni with her elbow.
“
Carmen.
”

Toni stole a quick glance, then rolled her eyes in disdain.
“
She
’
s something else. Little Miss Muffet on her tuffet.
”

“
She does have a way of putting it all out there,
”
admit
ted Suzanne.

“
Maybe Carmen should be shaking her moneymaker at
Hoobly
’
s,
”
whispered Toni.

“
Did she ask you about tickets for tonight?
”
said Suzanne.

“
Oh yeah,
”
snorted Toni.
“
Afraid so. And since we had a cancellation, Carmen bought two tickets.
”

“
Say it ain
’
t so,
”
said Suzanne.

“
From the looks of things,
”
said Toni,
“
I
’
d say Carmen
probably invited Ray Lynch.
”

“
Shhhh,
”
said Suzanne,
“
Petra
’
s going to hand out ribbons now.
”

With a big grin on her face, Petra held up one of the purple ribbons for all to see.
“
In the sheet cake division, I
’
m pleased to award the grand prize to Lynda Jenner.
”

More thunderous applause.

“
In the tiered cake division,
”
said Doogie,
“
grand prize
goes to Nadine Carr.
”
He looked around.
“
Nadine, come on up here, girl.
”

Nadine, shy little lady that she was, shuffled forward reluctantly to accept her purple ribbon.

“
In the wedding cake division, our grand prize winner is
Kathy Cromley,
”
said Petra.

“
And last, but not least,
”
said Doogie,
“
grand prize in the sugar arts division goes to Carmen Copeland!
”

Carmen clasped a hand to her chest and dropped her jaw in mock surprise.
Me?
she mou
th
ed
, even as she leapt from
her seat and ran to collect her purple ribbon.

When Carmen finally settled down, Petra announced
the four runner-ups and Doogie proudly handed them
ribbons.

“
And so,
”
said Petra, wrapping up the awards ceremony,
“
all of our grand prize winners are cordially invited to our
gourmet dinner this evening.
”

“
The winners
’
dinner!
”
shouted Carmen. She searched
for the camera, smiled prettily, then waved her purple
ribbon like a crazed cheerleader shaking her pompoms.
“
Hooraaayl
”

Toni sighed deeply.
“
Don
’
t her batteries ever wear
down?
”

Chapter thirty

“
Where
’
s
the pepper mill?
”
shrieked Petra. She spun fast
with a saucepan full of melted butter in her hand, bumped
the table, and watched helplessly as butter spattered everywhere.
“
Oh great!
”

Suzanne grabbed a rag and knelt down swiftly to wipe up the glistening mess.
“
Don
’
t worry about it,
”
she told Petra.
“
Calm down, take it easy.
”

Suzanne, Petra, and Toni were all jammed in the kitchen,
trying to pull together their gourmet dinner. Suzanne had just trimmed out the salmon medallions, Toni had set out
stacks of plates for the various courses and had just finished
rinsing and drying the Boston bib lettuce. It didn
’
t help that
it was pouring like crazy outside, rain drumming on the roof of the Cackleberry Club and gurgling loudly in the
downspouts. And, of course, just steps away in the cafe sat a full complement of dinner guests
—cake-decorating win
ners, runner-ups, and another dozen or so assorted diners.

“
Everything simpatico out front?
”
asked Petra.

“
Quaffing their aperitifs,
”
said Toni, who
’
d poured out judicious servings of Lillet into small crystal glasses.

“
Sipping,
”
said Petra, still a little stressed.
“
They should
be sipping.
”

“
They are,
”
said Suzanne, snicking open the door to the
pass-through and peering out.
“
And, believe me when I say
this: everyone has been highly complimentary so far.
We
’
ve
even gotten compliments on the table arrangements.
”

“
See?
”
said Toni.
“
Who says you can
’
t take dried milkweed, judiciously coat it with a little gold spray paint, arrange it in white country crocks, and then light the room with a million white candles?
”

“
There
are
a lot of candles,
”
allowed Suzanne. Toni had
gone slightly overboard in that department.

Petra allowed herself a smile.
“
It looked like midnight Mass last time I peeked out.
”

“
The cafe is simply gorgeous,
”
Toni said with pride. They had set the tables with crisp, white linen tablecloths,
laid out the good silver, and rented crystal stemware from
Fancy Nancy
’
s Party Rental over in Jessup.

Petra turned her attention toward the mustard sauce cooling on the counter.
“
There
’
s so much going on, I feel
like I
’
m in an old Marx Brothers movie.
A Day at the Races
or
A Night at the Opera!
’

“
Which Marx Brother am I?
”
asked Toni, playing along.

“
You
’
re Groucho,
”
said Petra.
“
Always making with the
cryptic comments.
”

“
No, no.
”
Toni laughed.
“
You
’
re thinking of Suzanne.
”

“
Not me,
”
said Suzanne.
“
You take the honors on that front.
”
She glanced around quickly.
“
What now?
”

“
I
’
m going to lightly grill our salmon medallions,
”
said Petra.
‘
Then we
’
ll arrange them on individual appetizer
plates, drizzle on mustard sauce, and add our dilled cucum
ber garnish.
”

Joey Ewald creaked open the swinging door and peeked
in.
“
Got any more of that fancy wine?
”
he asked.
“
Some guy is asking for a refill.
”

“
Earl Stensrud,
”
said Kit, shuffling in behind Joey.

“
The answer
’
s no,
”
said Toni.
“
Honestly, we only had three bottles to begin with. Doesn
’
t he know Lillet is an aperitif? Doesn
’
t he know there
’
ll be more wine with dinner?
”

“
Oh, he
knows,
”
said Kit.

“
He was just being rude to me,
”
said Joey.
“
‘
Cause I
’
m a kid.
”

“
Earl was being rude,
”
said Suzanne,
“
because he
’
s a rude person. It
’
s not about you, it
’
s about
him.
”
Or maybe it
’
s about the Lillet,
thought Suzanne.
The wine
’
s sweet
notes of can
died
orange and mint are awfully intoxicating.
Appealing, even, to a lout like Earl.

Joey flashed a lopsided grin at Suzanne.
“
Will you adopt
me, Boss? Can I be Baxter
’
s half brother?
”

“
Sorry, cutie,
”
Suzanne told him.
“
No can do.
”