Town In a Lobster Stew (16 page)

Candy did her best as he snapped off a few quick images of her from different angles. “I’ll get more shots of you later on with the other judges at the awards ceremony. Good luck!”

“Thanks, Jesse.” The words came out with an edge of melancholy, but he missed any signal she might have been trying to send him about her uncertainty over her new role, and with a quick farewell he wandered off toward the inn, a camera glued to his face, studying the building’s facade through the lens.

Candy crossed her arms loosely as she lingered in the shade of a wild cherry tree, which still held its last few white blossoms, and turned to survey the lawn. She was trying to gather the courage to visit the booths on the opposite side of the lawn, and wondering again if she should have given in to Oliver’s request, when a soft voice spoke up. “Having second thoughts?”

Candy turned.

Judicious F. P. Bosworth stood beside her.

“Oh, hi, Judicious. I didn’t see you there.” She paused a moment, trying to register his question. “What was that?”

“Are you having second thoughts about what you’ve agreed to do?” he repeated quietly.

He was about forty, the son and grandson of judges. A world traveler, Judicious had skipped out on his senior year in high school, much to his family’s dismay, and embarked on a journey of self-discovery, backpacking his way through Europe and Asia before winding up on a mountaintop in Tibet, where he spent the better part of two decades at a Buddhist monastery. Now he was back in Cape Willington, living by himself in a small log cabin on a forested patch of land at the edge of town.

Apparently, during his many years at the monastery, Judicious had learned to make himself invisible at will, and most around town let him think it, and even indulged him in his firm belief. Today, though, he was clearly visible. He looked lean and healthy, with bright blue eyes and black uncombed hair. He wore dark green trousers, a khaki long-sleeved shirt, and black Converse sneakers.

“Oh, well, I . . . I don’t know,” Candy said hesitantly. “About what? Oh, you mean the whole judging thing?”

At moments like this, Judicious always confused her a little. She wondered how he knew what she was thinking, but then realized her body language probably gave her away.

When he didn’t respond, she realized he was still waiting for an answer to his question. “Well, yes, to be honest, I guess maybe I am. Just a little.”

“You’ll be fine,” Judicious said reassuringly. “Oliver made a good choice. Just remember to keep a close eye on everything that happens today. There’s a lot going on.”

“I can see that,” Candy said, her gaze sweeping the lawn, which was becoming more crowded as the morning passed.

“No.” Judicious turned his whole body to face her, to emphasize his point. He touched her elbow. “You need to keep a close eye on everything. There’s a lot happening today, and you’ll need to remember it all later on.”

“Oh. Okay.” Candy felt a little uneasy under his odd gaze. “I’ll be sure to do that, Judicious.”

“Can you see what’s going on over there?” he continued, pointing with his eyes across the lawn.

Candy turned casually, letting her gaze drift right, so she could surreptitiously glance at the booth on the far side of the lawn, where Wanda was working.

Wanda had several helpers who seemed to be doing most of the cooking for her, while she stood off to one side, talking animatedly to a small group of her friends. They had their heads close together and were obviously discussing something important—probably her, Candy thought.

When one of them saw Candy looking their way, she nudged Wanda, who turned her head almost imperceptibly to glance toward Candy.

After a moment, their heads moved closer together as they all turned their backs to her.

Candy shook her head. “They’re quite a group, aren’t they?” she muttered.

When she looked around, expecting a reply to her comment, Judicious was gone.

She searched the grounds for him, spinning around in a complete circle, but he was nowhere in sight. “Well, that was strange,” she said to herself. “Maybe he made himself invisible.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d thought he might actually have that skill.

She turned back to the lawn, trying to plan her next move. The booths of Bumpy Brigham, Walter Gruthers, Delilah Daggerstone, Juanita Perez, and Charlotte Depew were located on the far side, in a line that arced from a small parking lot toward the inn’s south wing and the food services tent.

Of course, Wanda’s booth lay in that direction as well.

Candy supposed she should head over there, but her feet just wouldn’t go that way.

Instead, they took her off in another direction, toward the judges’ tent. She passed by families and couples who strolled the lawn, headed toward the booths to watch the contestants work. The day had turned out beautiful, with a pale blue sky and high wispy clouds drifting over the bright green lawn and freshly leafed trees. The temperature was steadily warming. A light wind tossed Candy’s hair.

As she approached the inn she saw Ben, who was walking past, chatting with another man Candy didn’t recognize.

“Oh, Candy, there you are,” Ben said when he saw her. “I’ve been looking for you.” Before she could say anything, he added, “Hey, I’m sorry about last night. I hated to cancel on you. But, as I said, I had a friend come into town at the last minute. Candy, I’d like you to meet Roger Sykes.”

Candy turned toward the man at Ben’s side. He wasn’t quite as tall as Ben, nor quite as good-looking, but he had a pleasant, tanned face, framed by black hair and a black, well-trimmed goatee, all of which made his teeth look blazing white. He was probably in his early to midthirties, and wore a charcoal gray suit and expensive-looking black shoes, which seemed out of place among the other more casual outfits on the lawn.

He held out a hand toward her. “Hello, Candy.”

“Hello.” She reached out to shake his hand. “So you’re Roger Sykes. I didn’t know you were Ben’s friend. I just heard from Oliver that you’re going to be a judge today.”

“And I’ve heard we’re going to be working together. I’m honored. Ben’s told me quite a lot about you. If you’re half as wonderful as he says, you must be quite a catch.”

“Oh, he’s just being polite,” Candy said with a smile.

“I’m glad Oliver took my suggestion,” Ben said, pointing at the judge’s badge. “It looks good on you.”

Candy glanced down at the fancy badge and its ribbons. “Well, thank you . . . I guess. It’s not exactly what I’d planned on doing today. To be honest, I’m feeling a little stressed about it.”

“Oh, it won’t be so bad,” Roger said, patting her arm. “I’ll help you any way I can. I’m just glad I don’t have to judge this whole thing by myself.”

“Besides,” Ben added, “it’s good publicity for the paper. And you can write about it in your next column. Sort of an insider’s look at what it’s like to be a judge.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” Candy said halfheartedly. She looked over at Roger. “So do you have experience doing these sorts of events?”

“I’ve done a few of them. It’s something I sort of fell into.”

“Roger came up at the last minute to fill in for one of the judges who couldn’t make it today,” Ben explained. “He called me yesterday afternoon. It was all pretty sudden. But it’s great to see him. We went to BU together. I used to hang out with him and his brother back in our college days.”

Roger filled in some of the details. “Brant Wisely had a last-minute emergency,” he explained, “so he called me and asked if I could fill in for him. I’ve known Oliver for a few years, and of course Ben and I go way back. I’ve been meaning to visit Cape Willington for some time. It just worked out for the benefit of everyone. And I get to meet wonderful people like you.”

Brant Wisely, Candy knew, was the well-regarded food critic for the
Boston Globe
. He maintained a summer cottage in Harpswell, down the coast a ways toward Portland, and had served as one of the event’s judges a few times over the years. Many around town had been looking forward to his visit.

“Roger owns a couple of seafood restaurants in Boston,” Ben continued, “so he’s well qualified to serve as a judge—though Oliver’s a bit put out by the last-minute substitution.”

“And now he’s had to replace another judge,” Candy said.

Ben shrugged. “You know what they say about the best-laid plans. Oliver’s always been a bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” Roger said with a chuckle. “Brant promised to make it up to him somehow. I think they’re talking about some sort of culinary event later in the summer.”

“Hey, it all worked out for the best,” Ben said, slapping Roger on the shoulder. He turned to Candy. “I’m going to introduce Roger to a couple of folks, and then we’re going to head over to the judges’ booth. Want to come along?”

Candy shook her head. “I’ll meet up with you later. I still have to visit the rest of the booths, and I want to make some notes for my column.”

Ben nodded, serious again. “Okay. I just spotted Robbie Bridges making the rounds of the booths, telling the contestants they have one hour to get their stews over to the judges’ table for tasting. Things will be heating up here pretty soon.”

“At least I know what they’re serving for lunch,” Roger said, flashing his dazzling smile. “I’m looking forward to it, actually. It’ll give me a chance to sharpen my taste buds. It was nice to meet you, Candy. We’ll have fun working together. I’ll see you shortly.”

As Ben and Roger moved away, Candy felt a nudge in her back. “So, you got a new boyfriend?”

“Huh?” Candy turned around.

Maggie stood behind her, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Who’s Mr. Handsome?” She pointed with her eyebrows at the disappearing backs of Ben and Roger.

“The guy with the goatee? That’s Roger Sykes. He’s the new judge today—well, the
other
new judge. He’s a friend of Ben’s.”

“Well, he can be my friend too. He reminds me of a young Burt Reynolds. I’ve always had a thing for guys who look like that. Do you think he’d ever go for a gal like me?”

Candy considered that. “Maybe. Of course, he’s probably married with four kids.”

Maggie looked dejected. “You’re probably right. Just my luck.” She paused, and they both noticed Roger turn around to glance in their direction. He waved.

“Isn’t that cute?” Maggie waved back. “I don’t think he was looking at me, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has eyes for you.”

“Aw, go on, you’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not. I saw the way he was ogling you.”

“He wasn’t ogling me,” Candy said with a laugh.

“Well, that’s what it looked like to me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Ben has some competition.”

Candy scoffed at the remark. “They’re friends. Nothing like that could ever happen.”

“Things like that happen
all the time
,” Maggie said dramatically.

Candy laughed again, though it was a bit forced this time, as she pulled her notebook and pen out of her back pocket. Quickly she jotted down a few things while they were fresh in her memory.
Brant Wisely out. Roger Sykes in. Owns restaurants in Boston. Ben’s friend.
She paused a moment, then added,
Ask Oliver about his views on the last-minute change in judges. Interview Roger about the winner.

“Oh, here comes Wilma Mae,” Maggie said.

Candy looked up. The elderly woman was walking across the crowded lawn, looking totally disoriented. She didn’t seem to know where she was. Then she saw Candy, and recognition dawned. She hurried over to them.

“Oh, Candy, I’m so glad you’re here,” Wilma Mae said, her voice trembling. “I still can’t seem to find Mr. Sedley. He never returned home, and I’m incredibly worried about him. Where could he be?”

“We’ve alerted the police,” Candy said. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon. I really wouldn’t worry about him too much. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation and he’s fine.” Deep inside, she hoped she was right.

“Oliver told me you’re going to serve as a judge in Mr. Sedley’s place.”

Candy nodded. “I’ve agreed to do that, yes. I hope it’s okay with you.”

“Oh, it’s fine, dear, fine. I just wish Mr. Sedley was here. He does love this event so much.”

Candy pointed toward the judges’ tent. “Look, Wilma Mae, why don’t we take you over to the judges’ table and get you something to drink? We’ll find you a comfortable chair, and you can sit and wait there until the judging begins.”

“Oh, Candy dear, that would be wonderful. I don’t know what I’d do without you. To be honest, I could do with a nice warm bowl of lobster stew.”

“I know just where to get one for you. Come on.”

Taking Wilma Mae by the arm, Candy and Maggie escorted the elderly woman across the lawn to the blue and white striped tent. Candy set Wilma Mae down in a padded wicker chair, while Maggie ran off to find her a bottle of water.

Candy had planned to visit the other booths, but instead she was pulled into a series of conversations with people who wanted to meet the new judge. Maggie returned with several bottles of water, handing one to Candy, and sat down with Wilma Mae as the day warmed. Before Candy knew it, an hour had passed, and when she looked around, covered bowls of lobster stew, in groups of three, were being set out on a long table adorned with neatly pressed white tablecloths.

In front of each group of bowls was a numbered placard but no other identifying information; this would, presumably, ensure the judges’ objectivity. Only Oliver and Robbie knew who had created each of the sample stews. There was a bowl of each stew for each of the three judges.

As Candy took the seat next to Wilma Mae, Oliver appeared from inside the inn. He had changed his clothes for the judging and presentations. He now wore sharply pressed gray slacks, a light blue shirt with a yellow bow tie, a navy blue blazer, and a stylish wide-brimmed hat.