by AlLee, Jennifer L. ; Breidenbach, Angela; Franklin, Darlene
“So.” Mr. Lawrence’s baritone came low and soft near her other ear. “Are there any creations present that originated from your kitchen?”
Paige glanced over her shoulder to find the reporter bent at the waist with both hands on his knees. He appeared to be using her as a shield and had to duck low to match her height. He’d moved closer to the back wall, possibly to avoid being overheard, or maybe even to better hide from Mrs. Waverly. His nearness was quite unsettling.
His gaze met hers, and he raised both eyebrows. “Well?”
Well, what? She furrowed her brow. Had he asked her something? Oh, yes. Did she have anything entered? Should she tell him? What if she didn’t win any prize at all? Oh, pish posh. This was no time for pride.
“Yes. Mama and I have a cherry cobbler entered, and she entered her strawberry jelly for the first time this year, along with her prized raspberry pie.”
“Ahh, a combined effort on the cobbler. Excellent.” Mr. Lawrence set his notepad on one knee and made some notes resembling a series of squiggly lines and curves.
“What is that?”
“Shorthand,” the reporter replied without looking up. He finished writing then tilted his chin toward her. “Can’t divulge any of the details of my story, now, can I?” he said with a grin.
“Did you write something about Mama and me?”
“That would be quite difficult, since I don’t even know your name.”
He said it in such a matter-of-fact way, Paige couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. Come to think of it, though, she hadn’t ever given him her name. He hadn’t asked for it, either … until now.
“Paige Callahan,” she said.
Mr. Lawrence made a quick notation on his pad and nodded. “Perfect. And in answer to your question, perhaps. You’ll have to wait for the article to appear in the paper to find out.”
But she didn’t even know the newspaper for which he wrote. How in the world would she know where to look for the article, or even when for that matter?
“Mr. Lawrence, I—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish as Mrs. Waverly interrupted their conversation with a quiet but stern clearing of her throat. Paige glanced toward the judges to see they had concluded their proceedings, and all eyes from everyone in the room were now on her and Mrs. Waverly.
“It’s time to award the ribbons, Miss Callahan,” the woman stated, barely moving her lips. “Would you please retrieve them and bring them to the front?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paige replied and immediately did her bidding. When she reached the front, Mrs. Waverly handed her the final list of names from the judges, save one piece of paper.
“I’ll be announcing the cobblers this year,” Mrs. Waverly answered. Her tone brooked no argument.
“Very well.” Paige accepted the other lists of winners and stepped to the center of those assembled.
Mrs. Waverly set out the ribbons on one of the tables and reached for the first one. Paige read the first two names, and the ladies came forward to accept their prizes. She looked at the top name on the list and smiled.
“And the blue ribbon for the best dill pickles goes to … Mrs. Caroline Harris.”
Applause followed as demure Mrs. Harris approached, her sweet smile a nice complement to the honor. She’d been runner-up for the past four years. This year, she’d managed to deliver the crunchiest and tastiest dill pickles at the fair … according to the judges. And for the first time, she’d be taking home the coveted blue ribbon. Paige made a mental note to talk to Mrs. Harris after the ribbons were all awarded. She wanted to find out what she’d done differently.
Next, it was on to the sweet pickles, then the preserves and jams and jellies. Paige caught Mama’s eye. All year long, at various festivals and events, jams had been a tug-of-war between Mama’s best friend and Mrs. Greene for as long as she could remember. Every year at the state fair, Mrs. Greene’s jams remained the winning entry. This year, though, Mama and Miss Dorothy had worked together, hoping between the two of them, they’d upset the predictable outcome.
With sweet pickles and preserves done, Paige shifted the papers in her hand for the jams category and glanced down. Yes! Both Miss Dorothy and Mama were on the list! And so was Mrs. Greene. With great delight, she called Mama’s name first.
“It’s all right, Paige,” Mama said with a smile as she accepted the ribbon for third place. “At least I have a ribbon. Not disappointing at all for my first attempt at making a jam worthy of the fair.”
Mama was right. They might secretly wish Mrs. Greene would taste the bitterness of defeat just once, but they needed to focus more on what they’d accomplished instead of what they hadn’t yet achieved. Paige called Miss Dorothy’s name next.
The woman gave Paige’s arm a gentle squeeze and smiled. “It just means we’ll have to try that much harder next year,” the woman who’d been like a second mother to her remarked. Her thoughts almost paralleled Mama’s.
Forcing brightness into her voice, Paige made the winning announcement in jams. “And the blue ribbon goes to … Mrs. Virginia Greene.”
The way Mrs. Greene came forward, as if she had expected to win, made Paige wish all the more that Mama or Miss Dorothy could have bested her this year. If only the woman didn’t look so confident and smug at the same time, her winning the top ribbon might be easier to take. With her back erect and her nose raised toward the roof of the Ag Hall, Mrs. Greene only garnered polite applause for her accomplishment. Her jams did possess a certain level of sugary sweetness combined with the slight tartness of the berries she used, but the way she boasted about them left a sour taste in Paige’s mouth the last time she’d had some. It would be a long time before she’d purchase any jams from Mrs. Greene again. And now that Miss Dorothy and Mama had teamed up to perfect their own recipes, she had all the jam she’d ever need.
Movement to her right caused Paige to glance in that direction. Mr. Lawrence frantically scribbled on his notepad and flipped the page to continue scrawling. She’d almost forgotten about him in all the excitement. A lock of his dark brown hair fell across his forehead and bounced as he wrote. As if her thoughts had become words spoken directly to him, he looked up and caught her watching him. A slow smile spread across his lips, and Paige quickly looked away, feeling the warmth of a blush creep up her neck.
She looked out again at the ladies assembled, silently praying no one noticed. They all looked back in anticipation, seemingly oblivious. Everyone that is, except for Millie. That observant girl regarded Paige with one eyebrow quirked, her eyes going back and forth between Paige and the reporter. She’d hear about this later. No doubt about it.
All right, time to move on to the last two categories she was announcing, jellies and pies. She read through the names for jellies and moved on to pies. Her mouth fell open a little when she looked at the list in front of her and Mama’s name wasn’t there. Really? Mama always received a ribbon for one of the top three spots. Friends and neighbors always asked for more raspberry pie whenever Mama made it. Guess this year, things decided to mix themselves up a little.
The third- and second-place spots went to a mother and daughter who had recently moved to Douglas from Casper, about thirty miles to the west of them.
“And the blue ribbon for the best pie this year goes to … Mrs. Beatrice Weatherby, for her rhubarb pie.”
Well, if Mama had to lose her regular place, it didn’t hurt so much seeing that spot given to the woman who would soon become Matthew’s mother-in-law. Paige smiled as Mrs. Weatherby made her way to the front. The Weatherbys had moved to Douglas a few years ago from Cheyenne because Mr. Weatherby wanted to spread out a little and have a larger farm. The moment Matthew met Constance, he’d been smitten. Amazing how it had turned her older brother into a mature and responsible man, ready to prove he could effectively manage a farm and provide for a wife.
Mr. Weatherby had taken a shine to Matthew, too, and readily agreed to allow his daughter and Matthew to court. By the time the propos
al of marriage came, the Weatherbys approved unanimously. Paige couldn’t remember her brother being so happy, and Constance would make a great sister-in-law. Now why couldn’t she find the same kind of happiness? Charlie could provide nice conversation every once in a while, but he always spent so much time analyzing everything and planning, she didn’t know if he even knew how to just relax and enjoy himself.
“Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. Weatherby said, accepting the blue ribbon and bringing Paige’s attention back to the present. “You are doing a wonderful job with all of this, Paige. I’m certain your mother and father must be quite proud.”
“It’s not a difficult task when I love it so much,” Paige replied. “Congratulations on your pie.”
Mrs. Weatherby winked. “It appears your mother and I need to compare recipes, now that we each have prize-winning pies.”
“Oh, Mama would love that, I know.” And Mama would, too. Perhaps next year, they would both win a ribbon.
Well, she’d come to the end of her list of winners. Paige angled toward Mrs. Waverly and waited to see how she’d proceed. With no hesitation at all, the woman transitioned smoothly, like they had planned this all along.
“And for our final category, we have the ever-popular cobblers everyone loves to sample this time of year.” She allowed a small smile to form on her lips. “It might be a sign that summer is coming to an end, but we’re not about to let it disappear without a great deal of enjoyment, now, are we?”
Murmurs of agreement resonated throughout the ladies—and some gentlemen—present. Something was different. The woman almost seemed congenial and likable. Not that others didn’t like her. It just took quite a bit of time to truly understand who she was and what motivated her. Most people had trouble getting beyond the brusque exterior.
Paige stepped back and allowed her mentor and supervisor to be front and center, careful not to stand too close to the reporter. He remedied that for her by taking two steps in her direction. Oh well. He didn’t leave her much choice. She couldn’t exactly step away from him now. It would be too obvious. Let others think what they may. She’d just remain extremely professional. She was, after all, one of the organizers and supervisors at the Ag Hall. It made perfect sense for a reporter to be talking to her.
“Well, now,” Mr. Lawrence intoned. “Seems that first-time entry from your mother appealed to the judges’ palates enough to earn her third place.”
“Yes, she and the lady who won second prize actually made their jams together.”
“Trying to come up with a way to best Mrs. Greene?”
How could he possibly have known that? Paige jerked her head to look up at him only to find what was fast becoming a familiar grin on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.
Mr. Lawrence shrugged. “I wouldn’t be a reporter worth my salt if I didn’t at least do a little poking around beforehand to get a feel for those I’d be interviewing, now, would I?”
He had a point. “No, I guess not.” Paige watched the two ladies walk to the front to accept the third- and second-place ribbons for their cobblers. Here it was. The final ribbon for her department.
“And the blue ribbon goes to …” Mrs. Waverly paused again for effect, just as Paige had done on all previous categories. Then, her voice caught as she smiled big. “Mrs. Lorena Callahan and her daughter Paige, for their, as the judges noted, ‘absolutely divine’ cherry cobbler!”
Chapter 5
Paige gasped and immediately sought out Mama, who looked as surprised as she felt. Millie hopped up and down in her exuberance as she clapped loudly next to Mama. They’d won? They’d actually won? Neither one of them moved for several moments.
“I believe they’d like you to come forward to accept your ribbon, Miss Callahan,” the reporter teased, his breath again fanning across her ear.
That set her feet in motion. As soon as she took her first step, Mama began making her way to the front. They came together and stood before the panel of judges and Mrs. Waverly, who handed Mama the blue ribbon.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Callahan. The cobbler you made with your daughter was the only entry among dozens to garner such adulation. What did you put in it?”
Mama looked at Paige, and Paige shrugged, so Mama turned back to Mrs. Waverly. “I believe that is one secret Paige and I shall keep.” She raised her head with pride and smiled out at their friends and neighbors gathered around them. “We’ll leave it to the discerning tastes of those who taste it to try to figure it out.”
“Well, I believe you have a definite enthusiast in Mr. Buford, our head judge.” Mrs. Waverly gestured toward the stout little man, who beamed from ear to ear at them both. He even gave Mama a little wiggle of his fingers. “Now, can we have all the finalists and winners gather here at the front?” Mrs. Waverly nodded toward the reporter. “I’m sure Mr. Lawrence would like to have a photograph to accompany his article covering the culinary division of the Ag Hall judging.”
As everyone else filed out through the three doors on the west, north, and south sides of the building, the ribbon recipients came together.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Mr. Lawrence addressed the group as he prepared his camera, “could I have each of you hold up your ribbons and stand behind your entry on the table in front of you?” He flashed what Paige would call an award-winning smile at all of them. “I’d like to feature those prize-worthy entries in the photograph as well.”
Several ladies beamed in response as they did his bidding. Paige had a feeling they’d go for a swim in the North Platte if he asked it of them. What a charmer. It no doubt served him well in his profession.
“Is everyone ready?” Mr. Lawrence asked. He raised his camera in front of him and held the handles on each side. “Let’s see those ribbons, now,” he instructed, and they all lifted their ribbons in response. With a loud pop, the image was preserved, and everyone relaxed.
“Congratulations again, ladies,” Mrs. Waverly spoke. “Now, go out and enjoy yourself at the fair. There’s plenty to see and do.” She snapped her fingers. “Don’t forget to come back on Wednesday for the judging of the craftsmanship in all of our unique knickknacks and handmade decorative items. If you’d like to see the textiles and larger items, you’ll need to go two buildings over to the south and visit our Art Hall. It’s been newly remodeled and enlarged to house all of our abundant treasures.”
Most of the ladies exited out one of the doors leading to the rest of the fairgrounds. A handful remained and spoke in low tones, sharing their excitement at their prizes. Millie approached from the side where she’d waited while Mr. Lawrence took the photograph.
“Congratulations, Mrs. Callahan! And you, too, Paige.” Millie clasped both of their hands in hers and bounced a little. “Can you believe it? Not one, but two ribbons! And one of them is blue!” Her eyes shone bright. “I would love to win a ribbon of any kind, let alone a blue one.”
Paige smiled at her friend. “Millie, you have to enter something in order to win a ribbon.”
Millie giggled. “I know that, you silly goose.” She swatted at Paige and barely brushed her shoulder. “But that also means I’d have to actually bake something, and nothing I make would be awarded a prize.”
Mama reached out and squeezed Millie’s hands, giving them a gentle pat. “Millie dear, I believe it might be time for you to come for a visit and join Paige and me in the kitchen instead of going over to the barn and paddocks as you always do.”
“But I love watching the horses and talking to the sheep and cattle,” Millie replied.
“And a certain foreman as well, I’m sure,” Paige teased.
Millie blushed and ducked her head. It was no secret she and Carter were sweet on each other. They just hadn’t done anything about it yet. Then again, Millie had also caught the eye of a certain bank teller in town. She claimed it was too difficult to choose between them, so for now, she kept things familiar but nonchalant. Paige sighed. Much like how Charlie treated her and their relationship,
wherever that stood.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Mr. Lawrence interrupted, approaching from where he’d just ended a conversation with Mrs. Waverly. “Mrs. Callahan, Miss Callahan,” he greeted formally. “Congratulations again on your notable accomplishments today. I wonder if I might ask the two of you a few questions to add a personal touch to my story.” He pressed the tip of his pencil to his notepad and regarded them both. “I promise it will only take a few minutes, and then you can be on your way enjoying the fair.”
Millie touched Paige on the arm. “I’m going to walk down to the arenas. Maybe catch one of the calf-roping demonstrations.” She raised her eyebrows. “See you there?”
“Yes,” Paige replied to her friend then turned to the reporter as Millie bounded out of the building. “I still have a great deal of cleaning and a few things to take down before I can leave, so I won’t be taking in the entertainment of the fair just yet.” She gave Mr. Lawrence a polite smile. “Mama and I would be happy to oblige you for an interview first, though.”
“Marvelous.” He placed a hand on his chest. “The chief is going to be quite pleased. I appreciate your time.”
Together, they recounted how Mama came to enter a jam for the first time, how long Paige had been working there at the fair, what sorts of things they did throughout the rest of the year, and even shared one of the added ingredients in their cherry cobbler but not both.
“The cinnamon you can print,” Mama stated with authority. “But the other shall remain a mystery.”
Mr. Lawrence nodded. “I promise not to press you any further, ma’am.” He winked. “But perhaps I can persuade you to share a piece with me before you take it with you? I might just be able to figure out the secret myself.”
“If you do,” Mama replied, “you be sure and come find me or Paige to tell us.” She smiled. “There are no guarantees we’ll confirm or deny your deduction, but you are more than welcome to speculate.”
“I applaud your confidence, ma’am.” He gave Paige an approving glance. “I can see where your charming daughter gets her poise and assurance.”