She bounded back into the truck, reenergized by the short chat with her hubby. Plus, she had figured out who was the cause of Brooke's bad luck bonanza. The last half hour of the competition period was sheer madness. When the air horn blew again Amy joined the three other women in a round of high fives. Outside, the customers milling around the patio area clapped and cheered.
"I have never been so busy. Even if we don't win, I bet we've picked up some new fans," Brooke said as she broke from the huddle. She plucked at the front of her T-shirt. A crusty streak of dark barbecue sauce was painted across it. "Okay, let's shut down and get cleaned up a bit. They're supposed to announce the winner in half an hour."
Amy followed Ellie out the door to help lower the heavy panel over the order window. The cashier's face was red and shiny with perspiration, but excitement sparkled in her eyes. They'd had a phenomenal day, and they all knew it. When the truck was closed up, Amy excused herself. She needed to chat with someone.
Harden was back on the bench where he had camped out before the trucks opened. This time he wasn't looking at a notebook. He was staring at the repaired generator. She sat down next to him. "Sorry my husband and I ruined your plans."
A drop of sweat traced down his cheek and disappeared into his goatee as he squinted at her. He shook his head slightly. The lenses of his glasses flashed like mirrors in the sunlight. "I don't know how you figured it out, but yeah, the day didn't go like I thought it would. Did you tell Brooke?"
"No. I've figured out that you're causing the problems, but I have no idea why. So I'll give you a chance to tell her yourself."
His reaction to the generator problem had tipped her off. Why hadn't he at least tried to help? Even if he truly had no mechanical knowledge, Harden should've been upset when his girlfriend was struggling. But he wasn't. Amy figured the lack of concern was because his bathroom trip, that had awakened Brooke in the middle of the night, was really a mission to mess with the spark plug.
"Fair enough. Thank you." He swiped his hand down the side of his face. "I love Brooke, but we barely spend any time together now. She is laser focused on building her business. It's incredible what she's accomplished, but I miss her. I feel stupid about being jealous of her success. I'm such an idiot."
Amy sighed as she stood up. Alex was standing near the waterfall at the end of the patio. She wanted to join the man she loved, but she needed to make sure this misguided lover finally did the right thing. "You're not an idiot. You're in love. Tell Brooke what you've done and more importantly…why. I'm sure she'll understand."
"Do you think so? I'd be pissed if I were in her shoes."
"I didn't say she wouldn't be mad." Amy patted him on the shoulder as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Good luck. Love can endure many things."
"Everything okay?" Alex asked as she joined him.
"I think so. Boys can be so silly sometimes."
Alex laughed as he handed her one of the two iced coffees he was holding. "I resent that statement." He gestured at the nearby entrance to the market. "Shall we go inside? I see a crowd already gathering near the stage."
Inside the market they snagged a small cafe table for two. The spot at the edge of the dining area was perfect for her to see Brooke and the rest of the truck crew when they came into the market. For the time being, Amy just tried to squelch the almost overwhelming desire to take off her tennis shoes. Her feet felt like toasted marshmallows, hot and puffy. The scorching day had taken a toll on her big time. A flash of red in her peripheral vision distracted Amy from the aches and pains. Brooke strode into the market with Harden trailing two steps behind her. The barbecue expert's eyes glittered with anger. Amy crossed her fingers under the table. The couple had a lot to work out, but maybe a win in the Melee would soften the sting of being sabotaged by her lonely, misguided boyfriend.
There was a round of applause as Toby took to the stage. The market owner spoke into the microphone clutched in his fist. "It's been a long, hot day, so I'll make this short and sweet. First, I would like to thank all of the food trucks, sidekick competitors, and everybody who turned out today to sample the food then vote. You've made the first Market Mash-up Melee a smashing success. And without further ado…the winning team is Brooke's BBQ with sidekick Amy Ridley."
Butterscotch Latte Pudding
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
⅔ - 1 cup packed dark brown sugar
½ tsp. kosher or sea salt
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
½ cup strong coffee*
2 ½ cups whole milk
2 egg yolks, beaten
1 tsp. vanilla extract
*Brew coffee using twice as much ground coffee as you would normally use. Extra coffee makes great iced coffee—just sweeten, pour over ice and add cream or milk.
Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Add brown sugar and stir until sugar is evenly moistened. Remove from heat. In a small bowl whisk together salt, cornstarch, and coffee until mixture is smooth and no lumps remain. Whisk mixture into sugar and butter. Slowly add the egg yolks and milk, whisking until combined. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring frequently. Lower heat to medium-low, and cook for an additional 2 minutes, stirring constantly, until pudding thickens. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla extract.
Divide into serving containers. Serve warm or cool to room temperature, press plastic wrap onto surface to prevent a skin from forming, and place in refrigerator to chill for at least 2 hours. Makes 4-6 servings.
* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Janel Gradowski lives in a land that looks like a cold weather fashion accessory, the mitten-shaped state of Michigan. She is a wife and mom to two kids and one Golden Retriever. Her journey to becoming an author is littered with odd jobs like renting apartments to college students and programming commercials for an AM radio station. Somewhere along the way she also became a beadwork designer and teacher. She enjoys cooking recipes found in her formidable cookbook and culinary fiction collection. Searching for unique treasures at art fairs, flea markets, and thrift stores is also a favorite pastime. Coffee is an essential part of her life.
To learn more about Janel Gradowski, visit her online at: http://www.janelgradowski.com/
BOOKS BY JANEL GRADOWSKI
Culinary Competition Mysteries:
Pies & Peril
Chicken Soup & Homicide
Doughnuts & Deadly Schemes
Christmas Canapés & Sabotage (holiday short story)
The Bartonville Series:
Must Love Sandwiches (novella)
The Queen of Bad Decisions (short story)
Ready or Not (serial)
FUN TO FIASCO
(Misty Newman Mysteries)
by
Gina LaManna
* * * * *
It was a hot, humid summer day that I stepped into the town of Little Foot, Minnesota. It wasn't the heat that was the problem—my home in Los Angeles boasted sunny weather nearly year-round—but what Hollywood didn't have was the humidity.
My skin oozed sweat, despite being dressed in a flimsy, coral tank top and loose jean shorts. My hair, which was dyed a light pinkish-purple at the tips, frizzed out to an astronomical degree. I could barely stomach the sight of food, which meant that something was severely wrong. I could always stomach the sight of food.
But right now the only thing I'd be consuming was the iced margarita thrust in my direction by my best friend of many years, a cute blonde named Donna.
"Yikes, I need this," I said, accepting the sweating glass from her outstretched hand.
Dressed to absolute perfection in black capris and a classy, white tank top, Donna did not look like a mother of five. Even her shining hair was beautifully coifed, free from the humidity's cruel fingers. Nothing like the wild, frizzed-out, afro 'do I had going on.
"Don't drink too much," Donna said. "You're running first thing in the morning. I planned this dang Fun Run—you're going to run it." She turned her attention f
rom me and pointed a finger around at each of her numerous children who happened to be within earshot. "You all are running it, and we're having fun."
"Nothing about running is fun," I said, a slight whine to my voice. "At least not when the thermometer is cracking open because it's so hot."
"California has ruined you, Misty Newman," Donna exclaimed with a smirk, refilling my glass. "What did I tell you? It'd spoil you—all that coastline, endless beaches, and tanned men…" She sighed and leaned back in the hammock that swung in a non-existent breeze.
The two of us sat on Donna's front porch. Though we'd both grown up in the town of Little Lake, Minnesota, which was a hop, skip, and a jump away from Donna's summer house in Little Foot, we'd gone separate ways after high school. We'd bonded over catching turtles as kids, gobbling up Cosmo stories as teens, and passing notes during high school geometry. Shortly thereafter, Donna had settled down with Nathan, her hunk of a husband who worked as a firefighter for Little Lake, and proceeded to grow a large, loud, and utterly adorable family.
Whilst Donna spent her post high school years getting her life together, I had spent those same years completely derailing mine. I'd had a fallout with the high school heartthrob and turned my attention towards college, which led me to trek across the great country of America and into California. When college didn't work out as expected, I dropped out, and to everyone back home's shock and chagrin, I dyed my hair bright colors and took up burlesque.
Now, ten years later, I was contemplating a move back to Minnesota. Strangely enough, Donna had invited me for a visit right around the same time, asking if I wanted to come for a weekend at the cabin. There were two main reasons I suspected she'd asked me back. The first, to convince me that my home should once again be back in Minnesota—right where I had started. After all, Donna needed a girlfriend to go out with on the nights Nathan didn't work and was willing to watch the kiddos.
The second reason, however, was the town summer festival. Nobody who was anybody missed Hot Dog Days. Placed right in the heat of summer, Little Foot boasted two-foot long hot dogs, jugs that held more soda than the Dead Sea held water, and of course, the annual 5K. It just so happened that Donna had volunteered to plan, host, and run the event, which, in turn, meant that me and all her children were subject to participation.
"It's cruel and unusual punishment," I said. "I will sweat so much that I'll need nine two-footers." I gestured with my hands to show the exact amount of hot dog I'd need to replenish my energy after exerting any movement in this weather.
"Stop your whining," Donna chirped, bouncing to her feet and wiping away non-existent sweat from her forehead. "Get some rest now because the thing starts at 7 a.m. I expect you to be the first one there. You have a man named Chad to thank—he called in sick tonight. Otherwise, the race would've been sold out and you couldn't have run."
"What a shame," I said, heavy on the sarcasm. "Any chance this Chad might feel better by the morning?"
Donna winced. "I'm eighty percent certain he was puking his guts up while trying to tell me he couldn't make it. We don't want Chad to show up tomorrow with a bug like that."
I groaned, pulling myself from the comfortable wicker lawn chair next to the hammock. "Only if you spike my water bottle tomorrow, too." I slurped the rest of my drink. "I'll need a margarita to numb the pain."
"I'll send you with a bag of chilled white wine." Donna led me inside and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "Do you need anything else? Towels are on the shelf above the toilet."
"I'm great, thank you," I said with a wide grin. "Despite my whining, I'm really happy to be back."
"Remember that tomorrow when I force you to cross the finish line," Donna said with a wink. "It's great to have you back. Now, go."
I trooped upstairs, took a freezing shower, and snuck a damp washcloth into the plump bed with me. Pulling up the fluffy, white covers, I felt safe and comfortable and oh-so-cozy. A light breeze fluttered through the linen curtains, and a fan pointed in my direction cooled the boiling temperature down to a pleasant one. It was good to be back.
* * *
The sound of clapping hands hadn't woken me up since I'd been in high school, when my mother would storm into my room demanding to show her latest find at Macy's. Unlike other moms, she'd barely realized that I had to attend school, more worried about looking put together for her man du jour. She was a kind soul and loved by the entire town. She was just a little lost and…naïve in the world of dating.
"Get up, get up," Donna yelled, quite the opposite. "We have places to be, races to run, and hog dogs to eat."
"I don't have places to be," I said, my voice muffled as I pressed my face into the pillow. The day was dawning much more pleasantly than the one yesterday, but that could change quite quickly. Minnesota weather was like a lightbulb—it could be bright one moment and dark the next without a flicker in between.
"It's a beautiful day," Donna sang. "Let's go troops."
She'd left the guest bedroom by now and was raising her herd of children, whose choruses of displeasure at waking so early joined with mine.
"Well, I'm your mother," I heard her explain cheerfully, when one of the little ones asked why. "And I made the mistake of organizing this Fun Run, so we are all going to go, and we are going to have fun."
Based on the wails of her sleepy children, they were just as enthusiastic as I. Figuring I owed Donna one for hosting me, I pulled on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt and left the comfort of my cushy bed to assist Donna with her brood.
"Let's go, kids," I said half-heartedly with a yawn.
I walked into a room where two of them were tussling on a bunk bed.
They stopped mid-wrestle at the sound of my voice, and Alec, one of the younger and sassier dudes—pointed a finger at me and burst into a fit of giggles. "Look at her hair."
"My hair is beautiful," I grouched, catching a reflection of myself in the mirror above their dresser. "Eee," I said, changing my mind. "Yikes. I'm a monster."
Holding my hands out like Frankenstein, I pretended to be a mummy and walked towards the boys until their shrieks were so loud it drew the other children. Five kids and one mummy of an adult in a small bedroom did not a cozy space make.
Untangling myself from the monkeys hanging off my arms, I tickled Alec until he squeaked and wriggled away.
"All right, Bartman troops," I said. "Who's coming with me and eating some Froot Loops?"
The ensuing roar sounded like an army setting off for World War III.
As we marched into the kitchen, Donna gave me a grateful grin and laid out plates of steaming pancakes, heaps of scrambled eggs, and just for me, a gigantic box of Froot Loops.
The roars settled down as children and grownups alike dug into the delicious smorgasbord of food on the table. Nathan wandered into the spacious kitchen and gave a sweet kiss to his wife's forehead, ruffled a few of the children's hair-feathers, and sat down at the head of the table.
The kitchen of their cabin was a spacious one. Huge windows were set high in the wall, allowing the early morning light to wash over the large island at the center of the kitchen. Log walls and a cozy fireplace in the next room provided a smokiness that reminded me we were on vacation, and the smells of bacon and maple syrup completed the cabin-esque vibe. We were all seated at a family-style wooden picnic table—gigantic in size and imperfect in structure. Dark wooden knots lined the benches and evidence of scars from forks, knives, and all sorts of games lined the table. But it was perfect.
After years of eating alone in front of the television, slurping up my colorful milk to the sound of the latest Sex and the City episode, the chatter and warmth was a pleasant change.
"I hear you're running today," Nathan said, smiling across the table at me as he tore into the plate of bacon.
"So Donna says." I grinned. "Will you be joining us?"
"I work," he said, his fingers in air quotes.
Donna rolled her eyes. "He's on call, but their bos
s is lackadaisical during Hot Dog Days and can be found sitting in the beer tent. Nathan won't be seeing anything straight by noon."
"What if there's a fire?" I teased.
"Then you better run your race real fast," Nathan said with a laugh. "'Cause I'll be stumbling right behind you."
Donna gave a shake of her head, though her expression was amused. The couple were clearly in love, and despite the normal trials of raising children, they were content and happy with small town life. I briefly wondered if I'd ever be able to do it—move back to small town Minnesota.
I'd been born and raised here but always with the desire to flee. Part of me longed for the simplicity that seemed to make Nathan and Donna so happy. Part of me also felt like returning now might mean giving up. After all, I didn't have anyone here waiting for me. All of the eligible bachelors were taken. Well, except for one it seemed, but I'd ruined my chances with him ten years before when I had fled after he proposed.
Donna reached towards her husband and gently patted his cheek. "That's my brave man, saving this town one hot dog and a beer at a time."
* * *
We arrived early at the start line. There were a few other early morning risers wandering around, not atypical for rural, farm town life. Donna's helpers had already set up the check-in table, and the first race participants were signing in and claiming their racing numbers.
"What if I stay here and help you hand stuff out?" I asked Donna as she distributed a few bibs to other runners. "I can be the designated purse holder."
"No such luck," Donna said, handing me number 4506. "You're Chad Glasser for today, you lucky duck."
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