She laughed at the idea. “Not bad. Those are snazzy. Slade looks mighty good in ruffles.”
Trey joined her laughter. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“I think he’s big enough to take it.”
“With a large helping of chili.”
“Reminds me.” She turned to Trey in concern. “We’d better get our minds on business.”
“Chili, yeah. But I’d hoped like all get-out that we’d catch those culprits before Christmas in the Country.”
“Me too. But there wasn’t enough time.”
“Or leads.”
“I keep thinking something’ll come to me.”
He hit the steering wheel with the flat of his palm. “Maybe all that chili tasting will set fire to our brains.”
“At the least it’ll set fire to our tongues.”
“Bet we could do that without the chili.”
She waved her hand in front of her face as if trying to cool off. “If you make me any hotter, I’ll never make it through the chili tasting.”
“We could skip it and go back to my house.”
She cast him a narrow-eyed look. “Trey Duval, just shut your mouth.”
He threw back his head and laughed hard. “Guess that puts me in my place.”
“Hope so or we’ll be in so much trouble with the other volunteers we’ll never hear the last of it.”
“True enough.”
She leaned back as he finally made it to the end of Main Street. He turned off the road and threaded his way to the school in back of Old Town.
Wildcat Bluff ISD was a collection of redbrick contemporary buildings nestled in a park-like setting. Strings of blue lights outlined the flat rooflines and filled the large oak trees. In front of a two-story building, a sign read “Go Wildcats!” in red letters on a white background. Another sign was posted in front of a smaller building and announced “Wildcat Bluff Chili Cook-Off Benefit.”
Vehicles took up much of the parking area, mainly in the section close to Old Town, but Trey slipped into a spot near the front of the school and switched off the engine of his truck.
“Great.” He pointed toward the building with the chili sign. “That’s the cafeteria, and somebody’s already got a sign up.”
“I’m impressed. We’ve gotten such huge support for the benefit.”
“That’s Wildcat Bluff.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go. We’ve got a benefit to put on.”
While he got out, she tugged her cell phone from a back pocket. Cindi Lou had texted “Break a Leg!” Misty chuckled at the old Broadway phrase for encouragement. She put her phone back and checked to make sure she had keys and lip gloss in her front pockets. Despite her earlier vow, she hadn’t brought a purse since she doubted there’d be a place to put it during the chili cook-off.
Trey opened her door with a big smile on his face. She stepped down into the afternoon’s hot sunshine and dry air. Country Christmas music, children’s high-pitched voices, and the rumble of vehicles drifted over from Old Town.
“All set?” He gave her a quick hug, then gestured toward the school.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
They walked hand in hand into the cafeteria, a large room filled with tables and chairs. In one corner students had decorated a Christmas tree with old-fashioned red-and-green construction paper chains, popcorn strings, and candy canes. Children’s crayon drawings on construction paper of cows wearing green wreaths, horses decked out with red-and-green holly, and wildcats pulling Santa’s sleigh piled high with colorful packages were attached to the walls.
Slade walked out of the kitchen area wearing a large white apron over ripped jeans, tie-dyed T-shirt, and black boots. He gestured them toward the back of the building.
Misty hurried forward, suddenly feeling anxious about the event. What if nobody brought chili entries or came to participate?
“Ran over after I finished up at the café,” Slade said. “Looks like you’ve got a winner on your hands.”
“Really?” She walked up to a row of tables near a wall. At least three dozen Crock-Pots in various shapes and sizes filled the tables. “Folks actually brought chili. What a relief.”
“No way would folks miss out on chili,” Trey said.
“That’s the truth.” Slade chuckled in his deep voice.
Trey cocked his head at Slade. “That Morning Glory’s work?”
Slade glanced down at the red-and-green patterns on his T-shirt. “She swears she was inspired by the Ghosts of Christmas Past. And I had to wear it to ensure the success of our benefit.”
“Pays to stay on Morning Glory’s good side,” Trey said. “She knows what she knows.”
Misty held up her pendant. “She gave this Christmas angel to me.”
“Good thing you’re wearing it,” Slade said, chuckling. “We ought to be in good shape now.”
Trey smiled and nodded in agreement.
Misty walked down the line of entries. People had handwritten or printed out their names with the titles of their entries and taped them on the front of their Crock-Pots. She read aloud from a few of the entries. “Bison Bliss. Turkey Fire. Not-for-the-Faint-of-Heart Venison. Pseudo Possum Pleasure.”