Sure enough, Bertha Grayfire crossed the stage to the microphone. Her face looking a shade paler in the harsh stage lighting than it had earlier in the day, she stood with tightly drawn lips, holding up a hand, as she waited for the crowd to settle. Finally she spoke.
“Before I announce the winners,” she began, almost too quietly, “I think we once more should express our appreciation to all of our contestants and acknowledge the hard work they’ve put in this evening. Won’t you join me in a warm round of applause for our Blueberry Queen contestants.”
After the applause had died down, Bertha continued. “As is the tradition in our little pageant, I’ll begin by announcing the specialty awards. The winners of these awards will each receive a fifty-dollar gift certificate, good at most stores in Cape Willington, as well as a wonderful gift basket from the Cape Willington Merchants’ Association. First up is our Ms. Spirit Award, which is presented to the contestant the judges believe best exemplifies the spirit of life here in Cape Willington. And the winner is…” She paused momentarily for dramatic effect, then announced, “Mollie McKay!”
The audience applauded heartily as two young girls emerged to present Mollie with a bouquet of roses and a white satin sash with red lettering, which was placed over her head and draped from her right shoulder across her body.
“Next is our Ms. Charm and Personality Award,” Bertha continued, “presented to the contestant whom the judges believe best fulfills those qualities. And the winner is… Emily Fitzsimmons!”
Again, presentations of roses and a satin sash were made, as they were to the winner of the third specialty award, Jennifer Croft, who won for Ms. Photogenic.
“From our final three contestants,” Bertha Grayfire announced, “the judges have chosen two runners-up, as well as this year’s Blueberry Queen. I should mention that the queen and her court will preside over the Blueberry Queen Dance, which will kick off in about half an hour. I hope you’ll all attend. And now it’s time to announce our winners.”
As the audience sat in hushed expectation, Maggie reached over, took Candy’s hand, and pressed it to her chest. “Feel my beating heart,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m so nervous.”
“Hang in there,” Candy whispered supportively. “We’re almost at the end.”
“The second runner-up,” Bertha said as she glanced down at the card in her hand, “will receive a two-hundred-fifty-dollar scholarship award, as well as a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate and a gift basket. And the second runner-up is… Amanda Tremont!”
“Oh!” was all Maggie could say in a surprised voice as she joined the audience in applause. “She came in third place.”
Candy nudged her friend. “That’s pretty good. Look, she’s happy.”
With a wide smile Amanda stepped forward to accept her bouquet of roses, her white satin sash, and a small silver tiara. She bent down so the two young girls could place it securely on her head.
“Amanda Tremont, our second runner-up!” Bertha called out to the crowd as the applause welled up again.
As Amanda stepped to one side, Bertha gathered the two remaining contestants to her side. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said dramatically, “we’ve come down to our final two contestants-Haley Pruitt and Sapphire Vine. As you know, the first runner-up plays a vitally important role. Should the Blueberry Queen not be able to fulfill her duties, for whatever reason, the first runner-up will assume those duties. And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”
Bertha took a moment to place her reading glasses on the end of her nose and check her card a final time. Candy noticed her hand was shaking. Finally, she lowered her glasses and stepped up to the microphone.
“It’s got to be Haley Pruitt,” Candy hissed, leaning close to Maggie’s ear.
Maggie gripped her arm. “Pray to God you’re right. I hate to think what will happen if the Blueberry Blob wins.”
“The first runner-up will receive a five-hundred-dollar scholarship award, as well as a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate and a gift basket,” Bertha said. “The Blueberry Queen will receive a one-thousand-dollar scholarship award, as well as a one-hundred-dollar gift certificate and a gift basket.”
Bertha paused and looked out over the audience. “There’s nothing more to say, except to announce the winners. And so, without further adieu, the first runner-up is… Haley Pruitt!”
A wave of shock and gasps swept through the audience, and Mrs. Pruitt appeared to faint, as Bertha Grayfire announced over the tumult, “That means this year’s Blueberry Queen is Sapphire Vine!”
NINE
So Sapphire Vine is the Blueberry Queen.
Candy shook her head. She still couldn’t believe it.
Hell has definitely frozen over-and has become a skating rink for the Sapphire Vines of the world.
It was Monday morning, two days after the festival and the pageant that had ended so dramatically. Candy was in her ten-year-old teal Jeep Cherokee, headed into town to run a few errands. She had a lot to do before she met Maggie at noon for lunch. But for some reason she just couldn’t get Sapphire Vine out of her mind.
Twice yesterday, the video of the Blueberry Queen Pageant had been rebroadcast on the local cable-access channel. Candy watched it both times, from start to finish, with a mixture of horror, fascination, and outright glee.
There were so many parts of it she loved, like when Sapphire came prancing out on stage in her cowgirl outfit, or when she recited that wacky poem of hers while dressed as a giant ripe blueberry. But Candy also liked watching Amanda go through her athletic routine, and she especially enjoyed hearing Haley Pruitt play the Rachmaninoff piece.
Her favorite part, though, was what had happened after Sapphire Vine had been crowned the Blueberry Queen. Whenever that part came on the TV, Candy leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms, and scrutinized every delicious moment.
As Bertha Grayfire announced the winner, Sapphire Vine had overreacted wildly, squealing like a teenager at a sixties Beatles concert. She had bounced up and down shouting “Oh! Oh! Oh!” and flailed her arms about so wildly she actually came close to pummeling the other contestants on stage.
At the same moment, Helen Ross Pruitt, Haley’s sour-faced grandmother, rose quickly to her feet, much to the surprise of her butler Hopkins (or whatever his name was). He reached out to perhaps comfort Mrs. Pruitt, or perhaps to restrain her, but she forcefully shoved him aside and charged the judges’ table like a bull on the streets of Pamplona, her long bony finger leveled at them as she spat out her displeasure, her face dark with rage.
The judges had risen uneasily to their feet in defense, and the shouting had begun. Wild accusations and vehement denials had flown back and forth. Mrs. Pruitt actually came close to blows with one of the judges, Oliver LaForce, who ran the Lightkeeper’s Inn. He had vehemently denied any wrongdoing and accused her of overreacting and, worse, bad sportsmanship. Candy had watched as Mrs. Pruitt flourished her tightly clenched fists in rage. She looked ready to swing out but had finally been restrained by her long-suffering butler.
It was a surrealistic moment straight out of the movies but something rarely seen in real life.
Candy loved every moment of it.
The entire hall erupted then as the camera lens swung erratically about, trying to record the ensuing chaos for posterity. The audience members were on their feet; some clapped politely, but most just stood in shock, and a few-perhaps supporters of Haley Pruitt and some of the other contestants-stormed from the hall in disbelief or disgust.
And though she stood in the middle of the firestorm, Sapphire Vine had been strangely oblivious to what was going on around her. Instead, she acted every bit the Blueberry Queen-probably because, Candy suspected, Sapphire had been anticipating and practicing that moment for weeks, more than likely in front of a mirror. It was almost as if she had known she was going to win-or at the very least, thought it her destiny.