Five-Alarm Fudge (40 page)

At the farm, the princess toured everything with my grandmother on one arm and my father on the other. She encouraged the press to take pictures of her stirring the cream and tasting fresh cheese curds.

“They squeak,” she said, laughing.

At four o’clock at the Namur church grounds during the kermis, Sheriff Tollefson showed up. A murmur reverberated through the throng because word had gotten out during the week that he was examining the divinity fudge recipe.

I rushed through the crowd to get to him. “What did you find out?”

My grandfather leaped to my side. “Jordy, any fingerprints from Adele Brise?”

“In due time,” Jordy said.

Jordy pushed through the crowd with my lawyer friend, Parker Balusek. Parker was a Lincolnesque figure dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase. The two of them proceeded to the dais as our governor stepped up to the microphone.

Rows of folding chairs on the lawn filled instantly. My family and I took honored seats on the dais with the prince and princess. They were dressed in full royal regalia, the prince in a uniform and the princess in a long, ecru-colored gown with a sash.

I felt hot with the thousands of pairs of eyes on us. I’d worn a simple red sheath dress, with a triple strand of pearls borrowed from Grandma. Plenty of makeup helped hide my scratches. My hair was down, fluttering in the breeze.

People were standing out to the road. Little kids were riding their dads’ shoulders.

Dillon and Pauline had found seats in the second row below us.

Our governor took the microphone. “Welcome to the Namur kermis, honoring our connection to Belgium with our honored, distinguished guests, Prince Arnaud and Princess Amandine.”

The governor blathered on about how Grandma, Dad, and I were related to royalty. I didn’t even have to look at Grandma to feel the tension within her heart because of her secret.

Then the governor motioned Jordy to the microphone, amid great applause.

Jordy said, “I asked Attorney Parker Balusek, who specializes in church rehabilitations and church history, to take charge of the authentication of these papers. He and I traveled to the State Historical Society in Madison—”

My grandfather piped up, “Just tell us what you found out, Jordy. I’m collecting cobwebs sitting here.”

A chuckle rippled through the crowd. Even the princess seated to Jordy’s left on the dais giggled.

Jordy motioned for Parker to come forward. The sheriff removed a shadow box–style frame holding the precious recipe.

A thrill went through me. My hands were shaking.

Parker said, “I’d like the princess and prince and Gil and Sophie Oosterling to read the wording at the bottom of each picture.”

The crowd clapped. My grandfather’s silver hair stood out against the backdrop of Parker’s dark suit. Grandma was on the other side of Parker. The princess stood next to her. Gilpa took up his post next to the prince.

Grandpa read, “‘This authenticated divinity fudge recipe was written during the time when Belgians first arrived in Door County. They were served by Sister Adele Brise, who traveled among settlements during the 1850s and early1890s. The recipe was discovered inside the angel to the right of the altar in Saint Mary of the Snows Church, in Namur, Wisconsin, by Dillon Rivers, Ava Oosterling, and her grandfather, Gil Oosterling.’”

The plaque’s words were so “fudging” that the crowd—
including me—sat there for a moment absorbing what wasn’t said.

Parker took over. “‘While we cannot say for sure that Sister Adele created this recipe, we do know the paper is from that era. We did not find fingerprints. But we did find our imaginations making connections.’”

Grandpa crowed, “I imagine that Sister Adele liked fudge and that’s good enough for me!”

Prince Arnaud accepted the framed recipe from Grandpa. “And it’s good enough for me. This unique document represents the beginning of an important partnership between Namur, Belgium, and Namur, Wisconsin. I’m honored to accept this and it will be kept in an honored place in our royal museum in the home country.”

His mother walked over to the microphone. “I choose to believe that Adele Brise made fudge. It is that simple. Life is simple.” Her voice was silky smooth and cultured. “Adele knew the beauty of Belgian chocolate in the home country. She had to have passed down her love of chocolate here, because after all the best fudge is made in Door County. I’ve come all the way from Belgium to declare it so!”

The crowd was on its feet, hooting and applauding.

Amandine went on. “Now shouldn’t we partake of the recipe? I’m told that Ava Oosterling has made several batches of Adele’s divinity fudge recipe that I’m to raffle off as a fund-raiser for a steeple to go atop this lovely church next to us.”

Before the crowd could break up to buy raffle tickets, thunderous organ music stopped everyone.

The music swelled from inside the church. It came out the open doors.

Then a deep, rich baritone voice was singing “Ave Maria.”

The voice made me think the church was a giant awakened from a deep sleep and glad that he had rediscovered sunshine.

To our surprise, a singing John Schultz strolled from the doorway at the front of the church. He turned east toward the dais on the lawn. As he sang the hymn, the crowd parted to let him amble in song onto the raised platform where he
performed like an opera singer. “Ave Maria, Ave Maria . . . Safe may we sleep beneath thy care.”

Pauline was a mess of tears. Dillon and I wrapped an arm around her and held her between us as we were transformed by John’s beautiful baritone voice.

The choir strolled out of the church two by two, like an ark in reverse. They joined John. They were dressed in red and yellow robes—the colors of the Namur flag. Their voices rose into the air, lifting us all in a tribute to our community. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd by the end of the hymn.

The Saint Mary of the Snows divinity fudge sold out fast. I’d made it in the shape of bite-sized snowdrifts. People compared the little snowdrifts in their mouths to eating pieces of “clouds” and “Heaven.”

Dillon murmured to me, “This little church will have its steeple by the holidays.”

*   *   *

Later that Sunday evening, I traveled back to Fishers’ Harbor, where the party continued on the docks outside of Oosterlings’ Live Bait, Bobbers & Belgian Fudge & Beer.

Cody and Bethany danced longer than anybody. Cody held back from proposing to her, which made Sam Peterson and all of us proud of him. He was only nineteen, after all. Deep in my heart, I wanted Cody and Bethany to have their own private moment someday in the future. Maybe because I wanted such a moment for me, too.

Pauline and John were finally together. Marc called them to say that a decision would be made about John’s TV show idea next week. In secret, I promised Pauline we’d search the woods every day until we found her purse with that diamond in it.

Grandma and Grandpa danced cheek to cheek, but I knew the issue of the secret baby in her lineage was not a dead issue with Grandma Sophie.

My mother danced with the prince while the princess kept my dad company.

Dillon surprised me with his skills at polka dancing. He pumped my arms and flew with me around the harbor and
then in the new gazebo behind the Blue Heron Inn up on the cliff overlooking the Lake Michigan bay.

Pride crept into me like a sunset, warming me, settling me as if my inner crystals had been stirred properly. I felt rich beyond compare. I was part of a great family that extended beyond Fishers’ Harbor and into our peninsular county.

*   *   *

The next morning I welcomed getting up at five because it was peaceful. Not a thing stirred, not even my mouse. I was alone, savoring the afterglow from yesterday.

My grandparents were sleeping in. I’d told Grandpa to stay home with Grandma and I’d take care of the shop. I spent an hour or so restocking shelves.

I was hauling supplies out to the copper kettles when a scratch at the front door made me smile. Lucky Harbor wore the floatable key holder on his collar. When I opened it up, a key fell out. A note read
Come outside.

I grabbed a sweatshirt to toss on over my pink shirt.

The morning was chilly, a harbinger of things to come. I wondered how I’d fare over the winter after spending so long in a sunny clime. The thick fog reminded me of the many batches of divinity fudge I’d made in the past few days.

“Where are you?” I called. I could only make out sepia shapes in the fog.

“Right here at the end of your pier,” Dillon called back.

I tromped through the thick white mist, discovering the ugliest vessel I’d ever seen. “What’s this?”

“A boat.”

“I know that, but what is it doing here instead of a junkyard?”

Rust was keeping the forty feet or more of the hulk together.

The shop door slammed shut behind me. Grandpa yelled, “What the heck? Who’s in my boat slip?”

I held my breath.

Grandpa materialized out of the fog. He hadn’t stayed home with Grandma as I hoped he might. But old habits die
hard, the saying goes, and as sure and regular as a heart beats he’d always been at the harbor or in his bait shop every morning early. He spotted Dillon and his dog inside the boat, just past the gunwale railing. “What’s going on, Rivers?”

Dillon said, “I bought a boat.”

“Without eyeglasses on, I see.” Grandpa’s hands were running along the rusted boat railing as he walked to the stern to peer at the engines. “Are you an idiot?”

“Probably.” Dillon grinned at me on the sly so Grandpa didn’t notice. “My mother sent me out to buy a boat for her business. I saw this on the Internet. It got towed here overnight.”

“A rust bucket,” Grandpa said. “Did you try to fire the engines at all?”

“I don’t really know that much about engines. Like I said, it got towed here.”

Grandpa climbed over the gunwale and into the boat. He was shaking his head as he zeroed in on the important stuff. “Well, these engines are older than the hills, but Wisconsin-made. That’s a plus. Probably need to be totally taken apart and put back together again. That’ll take ya all winter. We’ll need to soak off the rust in cans of oil. You got any oil?”

“Yeah, I can get you oil.”

Grandpa hollered to me, “Ava, you got any old coffee cans? We’ll need plenty of cans for the oil and parts.”

“Yeah, Gilpa, I’ve got a few old cans you can have.”

Grandpa said, “I can see if I can get ’er started today . . .” He was climbing all over the twin engines.

Dillon winked at me, then turned to pay attention to my grandfather.

Grandpa’s voice faded as he tutored Dillon on the finer points of the engines on the rust bucket.

Lucky Harbor hopped back onto the pier, wagging his tail. We wore mutual smiles on our faces, and in our hearts, too. We began making our way back up the pier.

I whispered to the curly brown dog with the golden eyes, “They’re going to be working on that boat for a long time,
all winter and spring, and I hope years. Are you up for this long-term relationship?”

He stared at me expectantly.

I gave in. “Do you want some fudge?”

Lucky Harbor barked. I tossed him fish-shaped crackers, and then he followed me into Oosterlings’ Live Bait, Bobbers & Belgian Fudge & Beer to start a new
day.

Recipes

Red Riding Hood Fairy Tale Fudge

In the fairy tale, the wolf disguises himself as the grandmother. This fudge disguises itself as a rich, red velvet brownie when you first make it, but then over the course of a day or two or more it matures and becomes denser in texture, thus revealing itself for what it really is—fudge. It also freezes well; cut into individual pieces before freezing.

PREPARATION
: 10
MINUTES

COOKING
TIME
: 30
MINUTES

Before you cook: Prepare a 9-by-9-inch pan by either greasing it with butter on the bottom and sides, or lining it with wax paper so that the wax paper comes over the edges. Spray the paper lightly with nonstick vegetable cooking spray.

Use a large microwaveable bowl for the mixing and cooking of the ingredients.

Ingredients

2½ cups red velvet cake mix

2 cups powdered sugar

¼ cup evaporated milk

1 stick of butter (8 tablespoons), cut into pieces

¾ cup semisweet chocolate chips (can use white chocolate chips)

¾ cup dark chocolate chips

For the frosting:

²
⁄
₃
cup white chocolate chips

4 ounces cream cheese

Directions

Mix the cake mix and powdered sugar together in the bowl. Add butter and milk. Microwave this for 2 minutes.

Add the chocolate chips, stir until everything is melted and combined. (You may want to soften the chips slightly
beforehand before putting them in the bowl, but don’t let them dry out.)

Pour the mixture into the pan and flatten with a spatula. It will have the consistency of brownie dough.

In a medium microwaveable bowl, heat the white chocolate chips for 30 seconds, stir, and heat them again if needed to melt them. Add the cream cheese and stir. Pour over the top of the Red Riding Hood fudge. Let it cool before cutting.

Saint Mary of the Snow’s Divinity Fudge

This fudge looks like tiny snowdrifts. Divinity fudge is airy and light as snow or clouds, and all about the weather. Don’t try to make it on a humid day. On the day I made my latest batch, I checked the local weather statistics. It was a September Saturday in Wisconsin, with the barometer at 30.13 inches; don’t try making divinity fudge if the barometric pressure is over 50. The day was sunny, 73 degrees Fahrenheit, and the humidity was at 44 percent.