“How’d she get such a good seat?” Candy wondered.

Maggie waved a hand and twitched nervously in her seat. “Connections. Everything’s about connections these days, especially in this town.”

“Looks like she’s got her brute with her.”

“Who? That butler or chauffeur or whatever she calls him? Looks like a pug dog, doesn’t he? She never goes anywhere without him.”

“I saw the Bentley parked in front of the drugstore the other day, and there he was in the driver’s seat, reading a comic book and waiting patiently for her while she ran her errands.”

“They’re probably lovers,” Maggie mused, but before Candy could scoff at the idea, Bertha Grayfire continued from the stage, her voice booming through the hall.

“We have an exciting show for you tonight, but before we get started, I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to thank Wendy Bassett for her wonderful set decoration and Ned Winetrop, Ray Hutchins, and their crew for set construction. We also should recognize the generous contributions of Zeke’s General Store and Gumm’s Hardware Store.”

The audience joined her in polite applause.

Bertha’s expression turned suddenly serious. “Of course,” she continued, her voice falling to a near hush, “I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the sudden and shocking departure of one of our town’s favorite sons, Jonathan ‘Jock’ Larson. We all knew Jock well, and we all loved him dearly. He was a great supporter not only of this pageant but also of this town and all its citizens. I’m sure you’ll all agree that he will be sorely missed.”

The hall had fallen into deep silence as Bertha reached for her reading glasses, which hung from a thin silver chain around her neck. She slipped them on, paused for an appropriate period of time, then raised a hand holding a sheaf of five-by-eight-inch index cards, which she waved excitedly in the air. “Now on with the show!”

EIGHT

“First, I’d like to introduce our esteemed judges, who will determine the winner of tonight’s competition…”

Bertha swept a hand toward the five pageant judges who sat at an angled cloth-draped table at the foot of the stage and to the audience’s right, directly in front of the first row of seats. As Bertha read their names, each judge stood briefly and acknowledged the crowd with a bow or a wave.

“Starting at the far end… Mrs. Jane Chapman, director of the Downeast Maine Summer Theater program. Next to her, Mr. Oliver LaForce, proprietor of the renowned Lightkeeper’s Inn, located right here in beautiful Cape Willington. Next, Ms. Sheila Watson, music director at Cape Willington High School. And, of course, Mr. Georg Wolfsburger, baker extraordinaire and owner of the world-famous Black Forest Bakery.” The applause was a bit louder for Herr Georg as Bertha added, “This is Herr Georg’s tenth year as a pageant judge!” The baker, wearing an elegant navy blue evening jacket and a crisply pressed striped shirt open at the collar, put on a strained smile and waved halfheartedly at the crowd.

Bertha waited until the applause died out before she continued. “Finally, I am very pleased to introduce our fifth judge. He graciously stepped in at the last moment to fill a vacant slot, and we couldn’t be happier to have him with us. He’s the author of numerous books of poetry, including The Bell of Chaos, for which he won the Pulitzer Prize, as well as Tap Dancing on the Volcano, In the Steps of Kings, and his latest, A Drop of Peace, which, he tells me, is available in bookstores everywhere. Currently an adjunct professor at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, he’s also taught at New England College in New Hampshire and at the University of Southern Maine. Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Capers, please give a warm Downeast Maine welcome to… Mr. Sebastian J. Quinn!”

The crowd responded enthusiastically as Sebastian rose and bowed elegantly, first to Bertha, then to the audience. He was dressed resplendently in a white shirt, checkered vest, dark gray slacks, burgundy sports jacket, and yellow bow tie. He seemed to bask in the audience’s applause and twirled his upheld hand in small circles in the air, as a Roman emperor might have done before a particularly bloody gladiator battle at the Coliseum. He milked the moment for all it was worth before he finally took his seat, smoothing his beard as he settled himself.

“And now,” Bertha continued, “on with the introductions of the contestants!”

As she read the names of the six contestants, they emerged one by one from stage right, all wearing broad smiles and carefully chosen outfits.

To rousing cheers, dark-haired Jennifer Croft came out first, wearing an iridescent pink knee-length taffeta dress with spaghetti straps. She crossed to the far end of the stage, taking up her predesignated spot with a smile and a wave.

Emily Fitzsimmons was next, dressed in a black and white skirt-and-top ensemble that had been tailored to show off her youthful figure. She was followed by Mollie MacKay, in a calf-length denim skirt and butter yellow mid-sleeved top with a lace-up plunging neckline.

Haley Pruitt came next, looking radiant in a trim-fitting, off-the-shoulder powder blue number that perfectly set off her honey-colored hair.

“Amanda’s next,” Maggie whispered to Candy, clutching her arm tightly. “I don’t think I can stand it. I’m afraid to look”

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” Candy urged.

A moment later, Amanda walked out looking prettier than Candy had ever seen her. In a charming sleeveless pink and yellow flower-print dress complemented by pale pink pumps with thin ankle straps, Amanda Tremont strode onto the stage, smiling nervously as she gazed out at the assembled crowd and took her place beside the other contestants. Her long dark hair hung loose about her shoulders and had been brushed out so much that it shone in the spotlight. A single pink rose was tucked behind one ear.

“She looks absolutely gorgeous,” Candy breathed.

Maggie sniffed back tears and tightened her grip on Candy’s arm. “My little baby is growing up.”

Candy patted her hand. “I hate to tell you this, dear, but I think she’s already all grown up.”

“Oh my,” was all Maggie could say.

“Our final contestant,” Bertha Grayfire continued dramatically, “is someone you all know, someone who has made quite a name for herself in our little community-”

“Oh no,” groaned Maggie. “Here comes She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“-Miss Sapphire Vine!”

“Oops, I think they named her,” Candy whispered.

Maggie snorted as Sapphire pranced onto the stage wearing a cowgirl costume, complete with rhinestones, long leather fringes, red boots, a cowgirl hat, and a holster with a wooden gun.

Candy almost burst out laughing. “That’s not Sapphire Vine. It’s Annie Oakley!”

“Looks like Lord Voldemort to me,” Maggie muttered.

“You’ve been reading too many Harry Potter books.”

“I know. I’ve got a Hogwarts headache right now. Wish I were a wizard so I could make her disappear. She doesn’t belong here.”

The crowd, though, appeared to love Sapphire and her costume, as did the judges, who applauded approvingly.

With that, the competition began.

“By tradition,” Bertha explained, “we’ll begin with a contest designed to test each girl’s knowledge of our world-famous wild blueberries. During this portion of the competition, which will account for thirty percent of each contestant’s final score, judges will not only be listening carefully to each contestant’s answer but also will be watching to see how the contestant acts under pressure, handles her stage presence, and thinks on her feet.”

And so the questioning began. In an order predetermined by draw, the contestants were asked about the nutritional value of blueberries, how the berries were grown and picked, about their history and popularity, and even about cooking with blueberries. Candy was surprised to find she knew many of the answers, which she mouthed to herself, as if she were standing on stage-or watching Jeopardy! At one point she felt Maggie nudge her side. “You know, you should be up there,” her friend said with a grin.