“Maybe she’ll show up any minute.” Jules looked toward the road, as if expecting to see headlights.
“I don’t think so. It’s almost ten o’clock. She wouldn’t be up this late, especially with an early start tomorrow,” Marilyn said.
“That is worrisome.” Gina felt a pang of concern for the older woman, even though she didn’t know her.
“Did you find her?” Stacy appeared from the other side of the motel. Apparently they’d been scouring the premises for poor Aggie.
Marilyn sighed and flopped into a chair. “No. This isn’t good, not good at all.”
“Well, maybe she had to stop at another motel because it got dark. Did you talk to her son?” Maddie asked. “I’m sure she’s okay, or we would have heard.”
“He doesn’t answer,” Marilyn said. “But it’s not just if she’s okay. I mean, I hope she is, but it’s the contest. Even if she shows up later, she might not be up to competing early in the morning.”
“You said you have practice then. Maybe she could miss some of that,” Jules suggested.
“No. It doesn’t work that way. She’d have to be there, or she won’t know where to stand while filming,” Stacy said.
“Oh, well, maybe she’ll have to forfeit or something.”
“No can do. We have to have five contestants.” Stacy glanced at Marilyn. “Should we call corporate and tell them it’s off?”
Maddie jumped to her feet. “Off? What do you mean?”
“We can’t have the contest without five contestants. Everything is geared for five—the stations, the judging, the food, everything. The way the eliminations work depends on five, otherwise the whole timing of the production will be off.”
Maddie looked from Stacy to Marilyn. “So you just pack up and leave? What about all the people that have come to town to see it? What will you air on the TV show next week?”
“It stinks to have to disappoint them, and we’d have to air an old episode. But we don’t have much choice.”
Gina’s heart sank. If they canceled the contest, that wouldn’t be good for Shell Cove. The tourists would go home with a bad taste in their mouths, and she knew Maddie was counting on the television show to bring more people to town when it aired. There had to be a solution. She forked up another piece of pie, her fork clinking on the plate.
Everyone’s gaze fell on the plate then drifted up to Gina’s face.
“Unless we had another person who could make pies to take her place in the contest,” Stacy said.
“What? No. You don’t mean me?” Gina felt a flutter of panic.
“It was good pie,” Stacy said.
“Yeah, but I’m not a professional baker.” Gina gestured toward the plate. “It doesn’t even look good.” Surely Stacy couldn’t be serious. The hopeful look on her cousins’ faces gave Gina pause. If the contest was called off, all their hard work might be for nothing. They were counting on her. Could she take Aggie’s place in the contest?
“You don’t have to be a professional.” Stacy turned to Marilyn. “It would be a great human-interest angle. Local baker competes in contest. What do you think? We have time to work it into some segments.”
“It could work,” Marilyn said. “It’s about the only option we have right now.”
“She still has time to show up, right?” Gina hoped that Aggie was okay and just stopping on her route when it took too long to drive there and became dark. “I’d just be a stand-in.”
“She could. I hope she will,” Stacy said. “But we can’t guarantee she will. And if she doesn’t, you need to be ready to compete.”
Gina took a deep breath. Everyone was looking at her with hopeful eyes. No one had depended on her before. In fact, Hugh had had her convinced she was rather useless. She felt empowered and a little excited to compete with her pie. What was the harm? She would probably get eliminated in the first contest anyway.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The more Gina thought about the contest, the more she realized she wanted to win, not just to fill up a space but to really put her best foot forward. But she needed an edge over the other competitors. They were all a lot more experienced than she was. She needed Gram’s recipes the welcome-wagon ladies had raved about.
“Cousin Tina didn’t find anything? Not even some old index cards with recipes scribbled on them?” Gina asked Jules.
