“I know all of you are anxious to hear the new list of trucks going forward to Atlanta,” Alex said. “But instead of me telling you, why don’t I show you instead?”

The electronic board went blank again. The tired vendors groaned.

The tech walked up and hit it a few times on the side. The lights came on, and the remaining teams showed up in the seven slots still left.

“I knew it!” Fred Bunn threw his fish-shaped hat on the street and stepped on it. “They didn’t get rid of Stick It Here when they didn’t make the challenge yesterday. I’m getting a lawyer.”

Uncle Saul and Ollie were jumping up and down. Delia was applauding. The Biscuit Bowl was going to Atlanta!

– – – – – – –

We were packing up the food truck when Miguel returned. Uncle Saul had worked on the deep fryer as much as he could. He couldn’t repair it. We were going to have to head to Atlanta knowing we had no way to make biscuit bowls the next morning.

Chef Art arranged a press conference for the two of us to talk about me facing certain failure the next day since I had no deep fryer. He coached me to not sound cheerful about it and wear his hat.

I managed to look really depressed and even squeezed out a few tears for him, bless his heart. The camera took a close-up of my scraped knee. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would’ve laughed at all of it. After all, I was here. People were eating my biscuit bowls. The rest was all drama and didn’t matter.

“That was good, Zoe.” He slapped my back when it was over. “This is gonna be a difficult, emotional moment for the team. Even though the Biscuit Bowl has made the cut, will they live to fight another day?”

Chef Art laughed and congratulated himself before he was picked up in his big RV—his face and name painted on the sides.

Delia, Ollie, and Uncle Saul were cleaning and working on a list of supplies needed for the next day.

Miguel walked over to me with his hands in the pockets of his brown suit pants. He’d removed his jacket and tie. “Sorry I was out of commission for a while.”

“We got by.”

Okay, I was a little angry. I was also burning with curiosity about the woman he was with. I wanted to tell him about Helms’s and Marsh’s accusations against him. I couldn’t do it then.

“I know. I wouldn’t have done it, except that it was really important.”

“I understand. It’s only a food truck race.” I smiled at him. “Who is she?”

He looked a little surprised that I’d even noticed he was with her. Not a man who knew much about women, obviously.

“She’s an old friend. We went to law school together. Her husband is divorcing her. He wants everything, including their young daughter. She asked me to help her.”

Hmm. Did that mean she was an old flame kind of friend? It sounded like it to me.

“So you’re leaving the race?” I took off my stupid hat. “It’s okay. It must be important.”

“I’m not leaving the race. The trial isn’t for a few weeks. I didn’t want this responsibility. I haven’t done this kind of law in a long time. Not since Caroline died.”

Caroline. That was his dead wife’s name. It was the first time he’d mentioned her name to me.

I’d had to find out her name the hard way, by asking around at the courthouse where I frequently parked my food truck. A few free biscuit bowls went a long way.

“I’m glad you’re not leaving.” I searched for the right words that would help me find out if he was romantically involved with his “friend.”

I couldn’t think of anything clever. I blurted instead, “Are you romantically involved with your old friend?”

Well, there it was. Not too clever, but I hoped it would get the job done. He’d kissed me and acted like I could expect more. I figured I had the right to know.

He smiled and kissed me again. “No. She really is just an old friend. You’re the only woman I’m interested in being romantically involved with.”

Wow! Just what I wanted to hear.

I threw my arms around his neck. There were a thousand other questions I wanted to ask, but I was willing to be content with that one for now.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” I explained what Helms and Marsh had told me about the large amount of cash deposited into his account.

“They better have good justification for going into my bank account. You said they’re here, right? I think I’ll contact the Charlotte police for some answers. Why would I even be on their person of interest list?”

I shrugged. “I think it was the money. They said it was a red flag. And they feel like you stand out like a sore thumb at the race. I’m sorry. I didn’t tell them you were here because I invited you. I felt like it was none of their business.”

“I’ll take care of it. I guess it was good, after all, that you were involved with them. Let’s hope it stays good in the future.”

We were ready to roll. Uncle Saul rode with me in the food truck. He’d called an old friend of his from his days in the restaurant business who’d agreed to meet us in Atlanta with a used deep fryer to replace mine. It was lucky that I won the money. It would help a lot getting us a replacement.

I thought I understood why Miguel’s old friend asking him to help her could be very important to him. Ten years ago, his life had been very different. He had a great career, a family. He’d probably thought everything was going his way. He’d lost everything.

I knew a little bit about his childhood. I knew he came from a large family that had very little money. He’d had to work hard to go to college and law school—too hard to stay down forever after what had happened to him.

His old friend asking him to defend her might be the place where his life would change again. He might find out that he had the confidence to move forward.

Would he be interested in a girl with a food truck and a run-down diner if his life was different?

I hoped so.

“We did okay back there.” Uncle Saul got my head back in the business at hand. “We worked really well as a team. There’s only one little problem—Ollie and Delia. I don’t know how much of the kissy-kissy stuff I can stand in a confined space.”

I laughed. “I’m sure it will get better.”

“I don’t think the race will last that long.”

“We’ll have to be patient and understanding. Ollie has been alone for a long time.”

“That’s just it, Zoe. I think he’s going at it too hard. I’m afraid, despite my coaching, that he’s gonna crash and burn.”

“Let’s hope not. At least not during the rest of the race.”

“It’s made me think a lot about my own life,” he said quietly. “You may not have noticed when you were out there last, but Bonnie has a thing for me.”

“Which one is Bonnie?” I joked.

“Go on.” He laughed. “I know you noticed. It’s been that way since we met. I haven’t wanted to encourage her. I’m not much of a catch.”

“She seems to think otherwise. She’s known you awhile now. She must think you’re worth waiting for.”

“You think?” He gazed out the side window. “It’s been a long time for me, too, Zoe girl. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”

I kept my hands firmly on my cell phone and my eyes on the traffic going out of Columbia. “I think you’re probably thinking about it because you are ready, Uncle Saul.”

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know.”

Atlanta was about four hours away, and it was supposed to be the turning point for the race. It would also be the toughest venue with more challenges, more prizes—and more than one food truck getting kicked out of the competition.

I hoped my team could keep it together. Once we got past Atlanta, it would be downhill. We’d go on to Birmingham, and end up in Mobile on Friday for the grand finale.

I really wanted the fifty thousand dollars. I could upgrade my diner with that money and only use the food truck for special occasions. It would be awesome.