Gator Bowl (6 page)

The New Hope church was in a lovely glade of pine trees. The scent of pine mingled with azaleas and honeysuckle. Lush, green grass grew around the old white wood building. Moss dripped from a few old oaks. Log picnic tables were scattered across the lawn, mostly under the trees.

The church was definitely in need of renovation—or demolition. The sides were no longer straight, and the old bell steeple looked as though it could fall in at any moment. The roof was only partially shingled. The rest was covered by blue tarps.

There were already groups of church members setting up for the event. They were putting white tablecloths on the old wood picnic tables and bringing out pitchers of ice water, plastic cups, and plates. Children were picking daisies and putting them on each table.

Some adults were singing hymns to guitar music, shaking their heads and clapping their hands. Their green choir robes flew out around them like birds.

They all looked up—I was suitably impressed by their expressions—when they saw our motorhome. It thrilled me, thinking about how great it would be when the Airstream was a real food truck. I realized then how important presentation was to my potential customers. That was why food truck owners put so much effort into decorating their trucks. It gave them the
wow
factor and made them memorable.

We parked the motorhome beneath a spreading oak tree. Ollie set chocks (his word, not mine) in place to keep the vehicle from rolling. Uncle Saul turned on the generator and started the deep fryer.

People who'd purchased tickets for the event were starting to pour into the parking lot. I got Crème Brûlée set up in the front seat so he'd be safe while I was cooking. He wouldn't stay at the cabin. He was probably too excited about what was going to happen. I didn't blame him.

I had baked ten trays of biscuits before we left the cabin. They were still fresh and hot, though I knew they would get cool and a little crumbly before the day was over. I might need some way to keep them warm when I was working the streets in Mobile. I could be out all day, and I didn't want to ruin my signature food. I might need a warming tray.

Ollie was setting up piles of plates with plastic-wrapped silverware and napkins so they'd be easy to grab when it got busy. I was making the mixture that would coat the chicken and feeling pretty good about what we were going to do.

That was when Norman rolled in with his double-cab truck, hauling the biggest grill I'd ever seen behind him on a trailer.

The grill was the size of a small room at IKEA. At least one or two people could have lived in there. Uncle Saul was right—Norman could cook a whole cow on that thing.

A woman was with him; I assumed she was his wife. She started getting plates and plastic silverware ready to go. Norman grinned as he fired up the gas grill. The flames shot up into the deep blue Alabama morning like a forest fire.

“What do you think he's cooking?” Ollie watched from the open side window.

“Beef. The man only makes beef.” Uncle Saul was watching Norman anyway.

“Those are the biggest bottles of barbecue sauce I've ever seen.” I watched as Norman rolled the barrels of sauce out of the truck.

“He makes the stuff himself.” Uncle Saul sighed.

As we waited and watched, Norman produced a side of ribs, and tossed it on the grill. People actually applauded when they saw it. Showmanship didn't hurt his food production, either. Long before the ribs were ready, people were waiting in line with coleslaw-filled plates to heap a big slice of ribs with it.

“That doesn't look good for us,” Ollie observed. “He has it goin' on, doesn't he?”

“Don't count us out yet.” Uncle Saul put his first load of chicken into the fryer.

There was a knock on the open back door. It was Bonnie—wearing a big smile—and Alabaster walking on a leash. “It smells real good in here. What's for lunch?”

“Chicken, biscuits, and peaches.” Uncle Saul smiled back at her. “What's that you've done with Alabaster? She's not a dog, you know.”

“I've been telling you for months how much like a dog she is,” Bonnie said. “You should treat her more like one. Keep her tied outside when you're gone. She won't eat Norman's chickens that way.”

Alabaster grinned and swished her tail.

“Thanks for bringing her by,” Uncle Saul said. “If I get her back, I'll take that advice.”

Bonnie smiled and seemed a little shy. She definitely had a thing for my uncle. He was hard to read. I hoped he had a thing for her, too. Surely he wasn't still pining after my mother.

Just thinking about that made me feel uneasy.

“Okay.” Uncle Saul brought out the first batch of chicken. “We're ready to go. Mind that fryer, Zoe. It's popping a lot with that fresh oil.”

The warning came too late as I reached across to grab a biscuit for the first plate. The oil hit me on the wrist, and I dropped a biscuit into the deep fryer.

I hated to lose it. I was worried enough about there not being enough biscuits. I grabbed a metal scoop before I really had time to think about it, and snatched the biscuit from the fryer.

“I don't think we should use it this way.” I mourned the biscuit. “Here's one for the plate.”

I put the deep-fried biscuit on a napkin, planning to throw it away later. Ollie was right behind me with a tube of stuff for the burn. It wasn't that bad, but I let him put the salve on it and wrap it with enough gauze to cover my whole arm.

“Thanks. That's much better.” I waited until he was busy handing a plate and dinnerware to Uncle Saul before I removed the gauze. I was afraid it might cut the circulation to my arm.

People were lining up outside the window. It was exciting to see them there. I hoped it was foreshadowing for what would come when I got started with my own business.

Hungry people from town continued to roll in. They wanted to eat—and to find out who won the not-so-friendly wager between Norman and Uncle Saul.

I could see Minister Windom taking money from the newcomers and directing them to picnic tables. Mrs. Windom stood behind him in the same shabby outfit she'd worn to the cabin. I wondered where her new clothes, and tinted coif, had disappeared to.

We were so busy in the hot kitchen that I barely had a chance to notice anything for almost an hour. At that point, we still had food, napkins, and plates. But we were out of plastic forks.

“Zoe,” Uncle Saul called out as he cooked chicken and Ollie manned the open window. “Go over to the church and get some silverware. They always have an extra supply. Ask Evelyn.”

I ran out of the Airstream and over to where the Windoms were seated, enjoying some of every food being served. They scrupulously kept an eye on the big box where diners were putting in pieces of paper that contained the name of their favorite cook.

“We're out of forks,” I told Evelyn. “Uncle Saul says you have some we could borrow.”

Minister Windom's eyes narrowed. “I don't know if that isn't going against the spirit of the contest.”

“Borrowing forks?” I debated. “It's not like we want you to get more biscuits for us. It's only forks.”

Evelyn put her hand on his shoulder. “I gave Norman some plastic wrap a while ago. I don't see any difference.”

He shrugged and glanced away as two diners approached to post their ballots. “Do what you please. Come back as soon as you can. We're about to get really busy.”

Evelyn and I walked into the church. The interior was as plain and ordinary as the exterior, but in better condition. The old wood pews were polished and smelled of lemon oil. There was a single stained glass window at the front of the sanctuary. It depicted a lion lying down with a lamb.

“You must work hard keeping up with all of this.” I smiled at Evelyn as we walked by the huge spray of fresh flowers on the altar.

“My husband is very busy writing sermons and handling other issues for the church,” she said. “It's what I should do as his wife.”

I noticed that she hadn't lost everything she'd been sporting at the big-box discount store. There was a pretty gold and white daisy on a nice chain around her neck. When I looked a little closer, I could also see that she was wearing a wig. There was a spot by her forehead where her new hair was peeking through.

“Those forks are back here in the kitchen.” She led the way. “We have lunches and potluck suppers here all the time.”

I followed her back and saw the matching daisy ring on her finger. She definitely hadn't been wearing either piece the first time I'd seen her.

“It must be hard being a minister's wife,” I said. “My mother had a friend who was the wife of a minister. She always talked about being the last on the list when it came time for attention—or something
new
.”

Evelyn handed me the forks after taking them down from a tall cabinet. Her brown eyes met mine. “It's true. After a while, you come to wonder if you don't deserve something better for all the years of work and neglect.”

I touched the ring on her finger. “He doesn't know, does he?”

She shook her head. “I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't tell him.”

“Someone will have to. You took the building fund money for the church, didn't you?”

“W-what?” she stammered. “I don't know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” I didn't want her to get into trouble, but if it came down to it, she'd have to confess.

Tears came to her eyes. “I was counting it. Getting ready to make a deposit at the bank. I thought about all the things I'd never have—pretty new dresses, jewelry, things other women take for granted. The next thing I knew, I was having my first manicure.”

I smiled. “There's nothing wrong with wanting those things, Evelyn, but to steal the church's money was wrong.”

“I know. I planned to give it all back—until I realized how much I'd spent. I could never come up with that kind of cash. Mr. Windom keeps a very tight rein on the purse strings.”

“Well, he might have to open those strings a little. You have needs, too.”

“You won't tell until I can figure it out, will you?” Her voice was breathless and fearful.

“I won't. But sooner or later, I'm sure you'll have to.” I took the forks and ran back to the Airstream. “Sorry it took so long.”

The group of diners had thinned out while I was gone. Uncle Saul was taking a breather as another batch of chicken was cooking. Ollie was eating the biscuit I'd accidentally deep-fried with peaches on top of it.

I laughed at him. “What does that taste like? Didn't it absorb all the oil?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. But it tastes like heaven to me.”

Before I could protest, he'd shoved the last piece of fried biscuit with peaches into my mouth. I actually started to spit it out, and then the taste sensation exploded in my mouth.

“See?” He grinned. “I told you.”

“What are the two of you eating?” Uncle Saul asked us.

“The biscuit that got fried,” I told him. “It's really good.”

“Really?” He reached around me and dropped another biscuit into the deep fryer.

“I think it would be good with anything,” Ollie said. “You could cover that sucker with some chili, or gumbo.” He licked his fingers clean. “And the possibilities for sweets are endless.”

I fished up the next fried biscuit and stuck a piece of chicken on it. “Too bad you can't keep food on it without getting really messy. You know? Like a bread bowl.”

Uncle Saul bit into the chicken and fried biscuit. “Glory be! What have you discovered?”

“No reason why you can't hollow out the center like a bread bowl before you fry it.” Ollie matched his words to his actions. “Fry that one.”

The line at the open window had doubled while we'd been fooling around with the biscuits. We got back on track, sending out a dozen plates of chicken, biscuits, and peaches.

I brought the hollowed biscuit out of the oil and Ollie dipped peaches into the open space. I took a bite. The edges were crispy in a way that baking could never do. Opening the middle had brought some of that into the fluffy center. With the sweet peaches in that space, the treat was even better.

“Don't eat all that,” Uncle Saul called out. “I want some.”

“This is it!” I felt like a cartoon character with a big lightbulb above my head. “This is my signature food. You two said I make the best biscuits. Now I can make the best biscuit bowls.”

Ollie chuckled. “Biscuit bowls. I love it. You'll make a fortune, Zoe.”

Uncle Saul finished his part of the biscuit bowl. “He's right, Zoe girl. I've never had anything like it. If this doesn't excite the palates of people in Mobile, I don't know what will.”

“Let's find out.” I carved the centers out of a dozen biscuits and dumped them into the fryer. “We'll serve the rest of them with peaches in the middle.”

People were surprised at first. They looked at our new creation, raised their eyebrows, and finally took a bite. The expressions on their faces said it all.

Uncle Saul hugged me. “I think you've got it, Zoe. You can do anything with this. It's exciting.”

“I wouldn't have been able to do it without you and Ollie.” I hugged them. “I can't wait to get back to Mobile and get started.”

But first we had to finish the task at hand.

We sold out of biscuits first and then out of chicken. With nothing left but peaches, we were pretty much done for the day.

Norman and his wife threw on another giant rack of ribs. There weren't people lining up for them anymore. People couldn't have been very hungry. It seemed that most of them were waiting in the shade to hear the verdict on the contest winner—and Alabaster's fate.

Uncle Saul joined Bonnie and his gator out at one of the old picnic tables. I watched them talking and laughing together. I wished I could stick around and encourage that relationship, but I had a new quest.

“You may end up with a new aunt.” Ollie was standing beside me. “Courtship is the best part of a relationship.”

“It all depends on the relationship.”

“I guess.” He shrugged and moved away. “I suppose you'll be leaving for home tomorrow.”

“Yes. I can't wait to do something with this biscuit bowl idea.”

“Makes a good name for a food truck, too: the Biscuit Bowl.”

“I really need someone to drive either my car or the motorhome back to Mobile. I don't think I can do both.” I peeked at him hopefully.

“You can always hitch that tiny car up to the back and tow it,” he suggested.

“I guess that's true.”

He nudged me with his big shoulder. “Just playing with you. It's been fun being out here—but I think a big part of that is you, and your adventure, Zoe. If you're ready to head back tomorrow, I'll drive the Biscuit Bowl back.”

“Thank you.” I studied his no-nonsense face. “I wish there was something I could do for
you
. I really don't think I could've done this without you, Ollie.”

“You're probably right.” He grinned. “Don't get mushy about it. My life is what I've made of it. I'd like to think that this is the beginning of yours, young'un. I'll be watching the news to hear about your success.”

I hugged him again with tears in my eyes. “You're the best. Don't forget that.”

“When you open your restaurant and get rich and famous, maybe I could come work for you. I think you'd be my kind of boss.”

I was completely crying by then. Thank goodness someone yelled out that Minister Windom and his wife were going to tally the votes from the diners.

Ollie and I walked over to the table where the Windoms had been seated. Uncle Saul and Bonnie followed us with Alabaster.

Evelyn Windom gave me a scared look, clearly worried about what I might say. The issue of the church money didn't really mean anything to me. I had no reason to do anything about it. It would have to be something in her conscience that guided her.

“Our box is stuffed full of votes—just like our bellies.” Windom laughed as the crowd that remained gathered around. “Let's take a look at what everyone had to say.”

Evelyn opened the box and started reading out the names of the participants. Her husband wrote them down and then made marks next to each name.

“That's not hardly fair,” Norman complained. “I've still got a rack of ribs on my grill. What about
those
votes?”

One of the diners said, “Give it a rest, man. This is it.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that sentiment.

Evelyn's voice droned in the heat like a bumblebee looking for flowers. Some of the women fanned themselves with their hats. One man even had a tiny battery-operated fan that he held up to his face.

It took about ten minutes for the results to be tallied. I noticed Uncle Saul was counting the votes on his cell phone. It was about the only thing a cell phone was good for in Farmville. I was glad I didn't have to live without mine in Mobile.

“Overall,” Windom said, “Saul has the most votes. I guess that means he wins our food contest—and Norman agrees to leave his gator alone. Is that about right?”

“That means Saul also wins the hundred-dollar prize for the contest.” Evelyn handed him a hundred-dollar bill with a smile. A few people took pictures of the event, including me. Alabaster swung her tail around and grinned for the picture.

When people began packing up and the festivities were truly over, Norman shook Uncle Saul's hand. “I still expect you to replace my chickens. They were expensive.”

“You got it.” Uncle Saul smiled at him. “Look what Bonnie thought of to keep Alabaster in the yard.”

Norman nodded. “That could work. At least for a while. You need to get your own chickens again. That way the gator won't come to my house. They're lazy animals. He can eat
your
chickens.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Uncle Saul agreed. “But don't bad-mouth Alabaster. She's a good friend. I never have to worry about anyone breaking into the cabin when I'm gone.”

“I suppose not.” Norman patted the gator on the head. “We're done for now, reptile. I hope not to see your ugly face at my house ever again.”

Alabaster stared back at him without moving.

Norman's eyes narrowed. “Those blue eyes are too weird. It's like she's part human or something.” He shook himself. “I gotta get going. There must be someone I can sell a rack of ribs to.”

“I'm glad that's over,” I said to Ollie as I watched Bonnie hug Uncle Saul. “Norman's right about Alabaster's eyes, though. They kind of creep me out, too.”

“I'm gonna ride back with Bonnie, if that's okay with you two,” Uncle Saul said. “I'll see you at the cabin.”

Ollie and I went to pack up and leave, too.

“Looks like the police showed up too late to eat,” he observed from the open side window.

It was Officer Smith. He had a man in the backseat of the car.

I just had a strange feeling about his arrival. I told Ollie I was going to see what was happening. Everyone else stopped packing and walked toward the police car, too.

“Bill,” Windom acknowledged him. “Is that Harriet Johnson's son in the car?”

“I'm afraid so.” Officer Smith took off his hat and fanned his face with it. “He's been acting strange the last few days, and spending a lot of money he shouldn't have. He says he won it in a poker game, but I can't find anyone who will corroborate his story. It makes me think he might be the one who stole the church's building fund.”

Windom leaned down and eyed the young man in the backseat.

My gaze flew to Evelyn's red face. I caught her eye, and she looked away.

“He's not a member of the church,” Windom said. “Is there any other proof?”

“No. The boy is too smart to confess. Says he wants a lawyer. I was just wondering if you might have seen him hanging around the church before the money was stolen.”

“Nope. I've seen him around town, but not out here.” Windom shook his head. “I'd hate for you to arrest the wrong person.”

Everyone was sneaking a peek at the young man in the police car. I could tell from the expressions on their faces that they already believed he was guilty.

“I'll take him back to the station and give the DA over at the county seat a call. We'll see what she wants to do.” Bill put his hat back on his head and prepared to leave.

“No! Wait.” Evelyn stumbled from the table to the police car. “I can't let you arrest this boy. He didn't take the money. It was me.”