Angie saw Ann Cole climbing up to the podium. “Looks like the contest is about to start. Thank you for the invitation, and let Mrs. Nubbins know that the County Seat will be there. Should we send flowers?”
“No, it’s on the flyer. She wants donations to go to the culinary program at Boise State.” Sheila saw the chef from the Black Angus standing in front of his trailer. “I’ve got to go. There are so many people to invite.”
Estebe was standing outside the trailer, watching her as she walked toward him. “What is wrong?”
“You read me too well.” Angie shook off the unease she’d felt after the conversation with Sheila. “Do you and Felicia have plans tonight?”
He shook his head. “Why?”
“How would you like to be my date for a wake for Chef Nubbins tonight?” She handed him the flyer.
He read it, nodded, and handed it back to her. “I am guessing we are not there just to pay our respects?”
Angie shrugged as Ann Cole started her announcements. “If we happen to find out more about his death and maybe who killed him, that would only be a coincidence.”
“You are very sly.”
They listened as Ann went over her canned welcome to Garden City and how happy she and the other elected officials were that people were coming to their campaign booths located just inside the exhibition hall main entrance. Then she repeated all the same rules and assignments for the contest. Maybe there were other people here who didn’t attend the other two events, but Angie noticed that most of the crowds’ eyes were glazing over.
When she banged the cymbals one of the local marching bands had lent her, they moved to the back of the trailer. “Okay, Bleak, timer on. Thirty minutes and I expect to see you back here.”
Bleak nodded and set Angie’s watch. She held it up for Angie to see. “I’ll be back on time. I’m going to go see the rabbits first.”
“Make sure you hydrate,” Angie called after Bleak. She held her hand up, letting Angie know she’d heard.
“Good call, Mom.” Hope grinned and hopped into the trailer. “Where do you want me, Estebe?”
Angie might be the head chef, but Hope treated Estebe as if he was her boss. The guy had earned her respect by the way he’d taken her under his wing and taught her in the kitchen. Hope definitely wasn’t treated like just a dishwasher. “Sue me for worrying. Let’s get this going. I know we’re going to win.”
Their dish was based on the chick-on-a-stick idea, but this chick wasn’t just chicken. It was a portable chicken-and-dumplings recipe. “Just like Sunday dinner at Grandma’s” had been their menu descriptor. Angie just hoped it was inventive enough. She’d had spaghetti to go in NYC when she’d visited last year, a dish plated into a paper cone for ease of eating and walking.
As they started the prep, Angie thought about the smile she’d seen on Bleak’s face when she’d taken off for the small animal barn. She was totally different from the closed-off, defensive girl she’d met just a few days ago. She might not have blood family here, but she was finding out what Angie had learned so many years ago. Family came in a lot of different baskets.
Chapter 18
Service had gone well that afternoon. The dumplings had been sturdy enough to stay on the stick, yet they still tasted light and fluffy. The chicken was tender and flavorful. Angie and Estebe were sitting outside at the table as Hope and Bleak finished cleaning the trailer. Angie finished off a bottle of water. “Did you see anyone else’s dish?”
“I heard that Bien Viveres did a taco dish using fish. But I didn’t actually see anyone else’s work.” Estebe grunted. “Like that’s innovative. Everyone has fish tacos on the menu.”
“You never know what’s going to strike the right chord in the judges.” Angie rolled her shoulders. She’d be glad when tomorrow was over. “As soon as they are done with the trailer, we’ll go grab something to eat, my treat.”
“Okay.” Estebe thrummed his fingers on the table. “Tell