“Nobody tried — nobody left anyone. Everything is fine between Lena and me,” I lied. Even though they'd find out the truth the next time they went to church, if their hearing aids were turned up high enough to hear the gossip. “This is Liv, Marian's summer research assistant. We work together at the library. Liv, this is Aunt Grace, Aunt Mercy, and Aunt Prudence, my great-great-aunts.”
“Don't you be addin’ any extra greats in there.” Aunt Prue pulled herself up a little straighter.
“That's her name. Lena! It was on the tip a my tongue.” Aunt Mercy smiled at Liv.
Liv smiled back. “Of course. It's a pleasure to meet you all.”
Carlton Eaton tapped on the mic just in time. “All right, y'all, I think we can get started.”
“Girls, we need ta get up ta the front. They'll be callin’ my name in no time.” Aunt Mercy was already working her way through the aisles, rolling forward like an army tank. “We'll see you in two shakes of a rabbit's tail, Sweet Meat.”
People filed into the tent from all three entrances, and Lacy Beecham and Elsie Wilks, the winners of Casseroles and Barbeque, took their places next to the stage, holding their blue ribbons. Barbeque was a big category, even bigger than Chili, so Mrs. Wilks was about as puffed up as I'd ever seen her.
I watched Amma's face, so proud, not glancing at one of those women even once. Then I watched it darken, and she looked off toward one side of the tent.
Link ribbed me again. “Hey, lookit. I mean, you know, the Look.” We followed Amma's stinkeye to the far corner of the tent. When I saw who she was looking at, I tensed.
Lena was slouching against one of the tent poles, eyes on the stage. I knew she couldn't have cared less about a pie-baking contest, unless she was here to root for Amma. And from the looks of it, Amma didn't think that's why Lena was here.
Amma shook her head at Lena, ever so slightly.
Lena looked away.
Maybe she was looking for me, though I was probably the last person she wanted to see right now. So what was she doing here?
Link grabbed my arm. “It's — she's —”
Lena glanced across to the pole opposite her. Ridley leaned against the pole in a pink miniskirt, unwrapping a lollipop. Her eyes were fixed on the stage, like she actually cared about who was going to win. I knew she didn't, because the only thing she cared about was causing trouble. Since there were about two hundred people too many in the tent, this seemed about as good a place for trouble as any.
Carlton Eaton's voice echoed over the crowd. “Testin’, testin’. Can y'all hear me? All right, then, on to Cream Pies. We have ourselves a close one this year, folks. Had myself the pleasure a tastin’ a few a these pies, and I'm here to tell you every single one a ’em's a winner in my O-pinion. But I reckon we can only have one first-place winner here tonight, so let's see who it's gonna be.” Carlton fumbled with the first envelope, ripping the paper loudly. “Here it is, folks, our third-place winner is … Tricia Asher's Creamsicle Pie.” Mrs. Asher scowled for a millisecond, then flashed her phony smile.
I kept my eyes locked on Ridley. She had to be up to something. Ridley didn't give a crap about pie, or anything that happened in Gatlin. Ridley turned and nodded toward the back of the tent. I looked behind me.
Caster Boy was watching with a smile. He was standing by the rear entrance, his eyes on the finalists. Ridley turned her attention back to the stage and slowly, deliberately, began sucking on her lollipop. Never a good sign.
Lena!
Lena didn't even blink. Her hair began to twist in the stagnant air, blowing in what I knew was the Casting Breeze. I don't know if it was the heat or the close quarters or the grim look on Amma's face, but I was starting to worry. What were Ridley and John up to, and why was Lena Casting here? Whatever they were trying to do, Lena must be trying to counteract it.
Then I figured it out. Amma wasn't the only one dealing out the Look like a bad spread of cards. Ridley and John were staring down Amma, too. Was Ridley stupid enough to mess with Amma? Was anyone?
Ridley held up the lollipop as if to answer.
“Uh-oh.” Link stared. “We should probably get outta here.”
“Why don't you take Liv to the Ferris Wheel?” I said, trying to catch Link's eye. “I think things are going to be pretty boring for a while.”
“Now we've reached the most excitin’ part a the judgin’,” said Carlton Eaton, as if on cue. “All right, y'all, this is it. Let's see which one a these here ladies is gonna be takin’ home a second-place ribbon and five hundred dollars’ worth a brand new bakeware, or a first-place ribbon and seven hundred fifty dollars, compliments a Southern Crusty. ’Cause if it ain't Southern Crusty, it ain't the South, and it ain't Crusty —” Carlton Eaton never finished, because before he could say the words, something else came out —