“Hey, Father. Without them knowin’ it, can you get me a couple shots of the mayor talkin’ with those two dudes? But be subtle about it.”
The wiry priest looked over at the ticket table. “Still think he’s your evil villain, huh? Did you ever speak with Evie Hines?”
“Yeah. I’m working on things.”
“Tread very carefully, Goldie,” he advised.
“I will. Can you get those pictures? A close-up, and maybe a full-body shot?
The priest gave her an unenthused look but headed toward the ticket table. Goldie started to weave through the guests, looking for Peter. She got distracted by chatting with Deke and Chad Miller and their family at one table, then another couple she had met at the Thanksgiving potluck, who wanted to chat. During this time, Father Fitz successfully took the pictures she requested, and shortly after, Banyan was handed the golden cup trophy for the gingerbread contest. He took it over to the stage, stopped the music, and started his introduction of Goldie. Caught off guard, she headed to the stage with her pencil and notepad in hand. She looked truly radiant in her borrowed long black dress as she climbed the four steps to the stage. The mayor finished his introduction, and she stepped over to a large, square-head microphone while the audience applauded.
“Hi, everyone,” she began. “It—it was really an honor to be asked to judge the gingerbread competition tonight.” She smiled politely at the mayor standing nearby with the cup, then turned back to the crowd. “So many beautiful offerin’s… I hope everyone got a good look at all the spectacular creations and will bid on their favorite one. Most of you have been here before, so you know the drill.” She pointed to the line of gingerbread display tables. “Submit your bid in the boxes over there with your name, phone, address, the number of the entry you’re biddin’ on, and the bid amount. If your bid wins, someone from the historical society will call you. You can pick up your gingerbread house right here, this Sunday between 2:00 and 4:00 p.m. If you don’t have a phone, a volunteer will come by your place with the gingerbread house you won within three days. So, keep your piggy bank close by. You can also buy table pictures of the fun tonight. If you’d like a copy, our photographer, Father Fitzsimmons, will be here on Sunday to take your orders.
“Before I announce this year’s winner, allow me to say thanks for makin’ me feel so welcome. Sparkledove is really a—a cool, special place. My words don’t do the town, or all of you, justice. But please know I’m very grateful.”
She held up her notebook.
“Y’know, I took notes on all the entries, hoping to come up with some sort of expert baker rationale to explain my choice for first place. I certainly get that this time of year has different meanin’s and traditions to different people. But we get to enjoy those different meanin’s and traditions because we live in a free society. A society that a lot of our sons and husbands have bravely fought for this past year. Whether it’s been on supply ships crossin’ the Atlantic, in the Battle of Bataan, the Battle of the Coral Sea, Guadalcanal, and too many other places to name. They stand and fight to preserve our right to come here and dance, make gingerbread houses, and send our kids to school where they can learn about George Washington, Ben Franklin, and Paul Revere. I admit, whenIwas a kid, I didn’t pay much attention to those American heroes. But I’m sure payin’ attention to ‘em now.
“So, with that in mind, it’s only fittin’ that first place for this year’s gingerbread competition goes to entry number sixteen, a gingerbread rendition of the Statue of Liberty complete with a lighted torch. Whoever you are, come on up and get your trophy.”
A joyful scream of“Eeeeeeeeee! That’s me. That’s me!”came from the back of the center. While some laughed and others applauded, Lupe scurried past tables and ran across the empty dance floor with her face beaming like a thousand-watt lightbulb and her hands excitedly waving in the air. As she climbed the stairs to the stage, Charles Banyan muttered to himself under his false smile, “Christ. She can’t even speak proper English!”
Meanwhile, sitting next to one another at a table, Stu Frey leaned over to Clara.
“Goldie seems pretty connected tome,”he said.
After the winner received her trophy and the band started up again, Charles walked with Goldie and Lupe over to the stage stairs, where Peter was now waiting.
“Thank you so much, Señorita Goldie!” the winner gushed.
“Hey, all the entries were anonymous,” Goldie replied. “You won it entirely on your own merit.”
“I just hope nobody thinks there was something nefarious going on since Lupe works for me,” the mayor said.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Peter smirked, glancing at his father. “Take her victory and make it about yourself.” He turned and smiled warmly at the winner. “Congratulations, Lupe.”
“Thank you, Señor Peter,” she said. “Thank you!”
“Okay, okay,” the senior Banyan replied dismissively. “Run along now.”
Lupe nodded, then turned and hurried away with her trophy.
Charles looked at Peter. “It’s a legitimate concern,” he emphasized. Then he turned to the visitor. “Very nice speech, Goldie. And that dress. My goodness. I know it’s Stephie’s, but you really give it, uh, a whole new interpretation.”
“Finally. We agree on something,” Peter quipped.
“Thank you both,” Goldie smiled.
“And where have you been?” Charles asked, turning his attention to his son. “You’re only an hour late.”
“Well, unlike Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there,” Peter said, nodding toward Tully and Crosby still standing out of place by the ticket table, “I don’t have a lot of helpers and have a newspaper to get out. What are they doing here anyway?”
“As you’ll recall,” his father replied. “Last year, it was very cold and snowed heavily during the dance. Some people couldn’t get their cars started. One or two others got stuck in the snow. They’re the cavalry since our sheriff has the night off and is here with his family.”
“Hmm,” Peter mulled. Then he looked at Goldie. “Would you like a drink?”
“That’d be wonderful. A whiskey on the rocks, please.”
