Key Lime Pie Murder. Joanne Fluke
and there were three other entries higher than hers.”
“You gave her threes and fours?” Hannah had trouble believing that Willa hadn’t liked Mrs. Adamczak’s bread. “But that’s below average.”
“I know. I thought it had too many raisins. And I didn’t like the golden ones mixed in with the regular.”
“Okay,” Pam said. “What else was wrong with it?”
“There wasn’t enough cinnamon and it was mixed with some spice I didn’t care for. I think it was…cardamom?”
“That’s right,” Hannah said, glancing quickly at the list of ingredients. “Was there anything else you didn’t like?”
“I thought it was overbaked.”
“I agree that it was a bit too brown on top,” Pam said, turning to Hannah.
“So do I. I gave her an eight on presentation for that. But it was still moist, so it didn’t hurt the texture or the internal appearance.”
Willa looked a bit regretful. “I suppose Mrs. Adamczak’s going to be really disappointed.” And when Pam and Hannah nodded, she gave a deep sigh. “She’s the lady that lives in the yellow house right across from the school, isn’t she?”
“That’s right,” Pam answered her.
“I wonder if…I mean, it’s probably not allowed, but…do you think I should change my scorecard?”
Hannah and Pam locked eyes. It was a tough question, and Willa was clearly struggling with it.
“Let’s put it to the test,” Hannah said at last, after Pam had failed to speak up. “Do you still feel the same way about her bread?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then your objections are valid. You didn’t think it deserved to win before, and you shouldn’t change your score now that you know who baked it.”
“Absolutely right,” Pam agreed, giving Willa a smile. “It’s like the student you hated to flunk. Remember?”
Willa turned to Hannah. “I really liked him, but I graded his final project and it was awful. He had to make breakfast, and he chose pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”
“He didn’t drain the bacon, and it was grease central,” Pam took over the story. “The eggs were incinerated, and I thought we’d never get the sulfur smell out of the room.”
“And the pancakes?” Hannah asked.
Willa gave a rueful little smile. “Raw inside. And he tried to heat the syrup in the microwave without taking off the metal cap, and it sparked like fireworks. I still feel bad, though. Because of me, he has to go to summer school to take another class.”
Pam passed over the final tally sheet for all three of them to sign. Then they packaged the sweet breads they were taking with them and parted ways at the bottom of the steps to the Creative Arts Building.
As Hannah headed off across the fairgrounds, slapping at mosquitoes and juggling her sweet burdens, she decided that the first day of judging hadn’t been so bad. She’d tasted some very fine sweet dough treats, and she was going to her mother’s house with the chocolate cherry coffeecake to congratulate Michelle on winning the evening gown competition.
Hannah was about to head for the turnstile at the exit when she thought about Sinful Pleasures, the deep-fried candy bar booth. She was alone. Pam and Willa had already left. Delores had driven Michelle home, and Lisa and Herb were gone. This was her perfect chance. She could have a deep-fried Milky Way with impunity.
Life is good, Hannah thought, as she freed up a hand and slapped at another mosquito. The only thing that would make this moment better was if she’d remembered to wear insect repellent.
She had to wait in line for several minutes because there were at least a half-dozen people in front of her, but at last she reached the counter. And since there was no one in line behind her, she had time to chat with Ruby for a moment.
“This is for you, Ruby.” Hannah handed over the cinnamon raisin bread she’d snatched up at the last minute. “It only took an honorable mention, but it should have placed higher. I’ve had it before, and it’s great for toast in the morning.”
“Well, that’s really nice of you,” Ruby said, sounding both surprised and pleased.
“It’s just a little thank-you for defusing the situation with my mother.”
“No problem. Parents are always pulling their kids away from my booth.”
“Yes, but I’ll bet those kids are usually a lot younger.”
“That’s true. But some mothers just can’t seem to let go, even when their kids are grown up. I’m that way myself.”
Hannah stared at Ruby in surprise. She’d assumed Ruby was about her age, but if she had a grown child, she had to be older. “I can’t believe you have a child that old!”
“She’s not really my child. She’s my half-sister, but I raised her when our mother died.”
“How old were you?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.
“Almost eleven.”
Hannah gave a little sigh. When she was eleven, she’d done something similar. Michelle had been a cranky baby and she’d helped to take care of her when Delores had needed a break. But that had been only for an hour or so, a couple of times a week. Hannah couldn’t even imagine shouldering the sole responsibility of motherhood at that age. “How old was your sister?”
“Two and a half. It wasn’t easy, but all the rodeo wives helped. The ones who had kids used to invite Brianna over to play so that I could get some of the housework done. And they were always inviting us over for meals. There was one barrel rider, Missy Daniels, who used to bring us tuna casserole.”
“That was nice.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was the worst tuna casserole I ever tasted. My stepfather, Sam, said we had to be polite and tell her we liked it, so we did. But that backfired.”
“She brought you even more of it?” Hannah guessed.
“That’s right. We had it every Friday night. I still can’t stand the sight of a can of tuna. Anyway, between the wives and the single gals who wanted to pick up on Sam, we got along all right. Of course when we wrapped up the season, it was a lot easier.”
“Why?” Hannah asked, curious about what it would be like to travel with a rodeo.
“We wintered in Florida with Sam’s parents. Bri and I lived with them in Fort Lauderdale. Gram took care of Bri so I could go to school, and Sam spent the winter booking skeleton shows.” Hannah must have looked as confused as she felt, because Ruby hurried to explain. “It’s a pared down show, just the bones. That’s why we call it a skeleton show. It’s really more of a demonstration, and you can put it on in a park, or even a vacant lot.”
“So your stepdad was the booking agent for the show?”
“That and everything else. Sam owns the Great Northwestern Rodeo and Carnival. He finally gave up Brahma riding last year after he broke his arm twice, but he still keeps his hand in by doing some trick riding. See that Winnebago parked at the edge of the trees?”
Hannah looked in the direction Ruby was pointing. There was a large Winnebago parked behind the midway, just to the left of the Ferris wheel. “I see it.”
“That’s where I grew up. Of course I don’t live there now. Riggs and I have our own trailer. But Sam still lives there with