I took a few pictures of the mess in back. Next time, I could illustrate my point. Maybe I could even get the Mobile Times newspaper to write something about it. It was sad that we had to rely on the media to take care of problems.

I’d been outside about thirty minutes. I had to go back in and work on the biscuit bowls again before the dough went bad.

Ollie and Delia were sitting at one of the old booths. Their heads were close together, and they were whispering to each other. I wished I could take a picture of that, too.

Ignoring them, I went about seeing what was in the fridge and pantry that I could use for the sweet filling tomorrow. I had some ingredients to make the pecan pie filling I’d tried a few weeks before. The brown sugar confection had been very popular the one day that I’d made it. It was expensive, too, so I hadn’t made it again.

Would some of my regular customers come to the race event tomorrow? I hoped so. Mobile had a lively, and popular, food truck community. Those customers might go somewhere else rather than wade through the race crowd, but I hoped to see a few familiar faces.

I decided to make the pecan pie filling the next day. I could use my ingredients, but I’d have to wait to make it until I was in the food truck tomorrow. Since it was so sweet, I decided to go without the extra sugar. I knew it would be a good match.

I looked at the clock above the diner door. It was almost five P.M. I didn’t want to interrupt Ollie and Delia, but I needed time to get ready for dinner.

I called Miguel again—still no word from him. I hoped he hadn’t gotten caught up in something with Tina and wouldn’t be able to get away. I thought he’d probably call if that were the case. I tried not to imagine what kinds of things could come up with Tina. The woman was a whiny pest.

But I trusted him. I didn’t think he’d play around with me that way. The time we’d spent away from Mobile had been perfect for us.

At least I’d thought so. I hoped he did, too.

TWENTY-NINE

At five thirty, I was ready to go. Still no word from Miguel.

Ollie had gone back to the homeless shelter and changed clothes. He was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but now they were clean.

Delia had changed, too. She was wearing a short, heavenly blue dress with a sparkly silver chiffon overlay. Her hair was up. She looked like a princess.

I cleaned up pretty well, too. I went for my favorite little black dress—scoop neck and ending above my knees. My curls were perfect and glossy. I added black heels and a blue star sapphire necklace and earrings that had been a gift on my sixteenth birthday.

“Ladies!” Ollie looked us both over, but his eyes got stuck on Delia. “I guess we’re going without Miguel?”

“I haven’t heard from him all afternoon. Maybe he’s too busy to go to dinner.” I shrugged. “He might have had to get caught up with stuff at his office.”

Delia and I exchanged knowing glances.

“He’s not that kind of man,” I said.

“She’s that kind of woman,” Delia warned.

“Are we taking the food truck?” Ollie asked.

“No.” I’d called Uncle Saul’s taxi driver friend, Cole. There was no point in bothering Miguel for a ride. We could certainly get there without him. He could join us later when he could get away.

I called Miguel one last time while we were waiting for the taxi. I left a voice mail to make sure he knew he could come late if he wanted to.

“I hope he’s okay,” Delia said.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Ollie added.

“He probably just got busy,” I said again. “There were probably all kinds of clients that missed him while he was gone. He’ll come later.”

I didn’t want to feel miserable or pathetic—I was in the lead to win fifty thousand dollars. I was disappointed that Miguel couldn’t be there tonight, but I couldn’t expect him to drive me all over the city after going with me on the race.

I pasted a happy smile on my face when Cole pulled up, and the three of us got in the old Chevy taxi.

“Hey there, Zoe,” Cole said. “It’s good to see you. Don’t tell me—you’re on your way out to Chef Art’s place like Saul, right?”

“That’s where we’re headed.” I was careful to sit on the outside of the backseat so Delia and Ollie could sit next to each other. “I suppose Uncle Saul told you all about what happened while we were gone.”

He nodded as he pulled out of the parking lot. “He sure did. Sounds like you all had a heck of a time. Good eating, too. I’m glad you’re home. I missed those biscuit bowls of yours.”

That made me feel better. It was nice to know that someone had missed me while I was gone; even nicer that someone had missed my food.

Chef Art’s home was one of Mobile’s best, and most famous, antebellum mansions with stately oaks surrounding it. All the oaks had been cut down so that Confederate artillery was free to shell Federal troops. The trees there had been replanted using acorns from the originals.

Woodlands had been built in 1855. It had been restored with plenty of money and loving care so that the massive rooms, circular staircase, and crystal chandeliers were in great condition.

Chef Art regularly entertained here. I’d only been in the house one other time. I was happy to be back again.

Cole dropped us off out front in the circular drive. The place was buzzing with activity—a lot more than there should’ve been for two food truck teams and some producers.

Chef Art greeted us at the door, as befitted a host of the old South. He was wearing his famous white linen suit, as always. “Good to see you. I’m glad you could make it.”

“What’s going on?” There were hundreds of strangers walking around inside.

“I thought I’d ask a few friends over for dinner. It seemed like such a small party with just you all and the other team. We won’t count the race officials and sponsors. It was short notice, or I’m sure there’d be a lot more people. Go on. Introduce yourself, Zoe. Make yourself known. That’s how you get rich and famous.”

I did as he suggested. I recognized some of the people from national TV food shows that I watched regularly. I loved most of them, and had spent hours planning to be one of them. It wasn’t happening yet, but there was plenty of time.

Ollie and Delia found a quiet place in a corner and didn’t bother introducing themselves to anyone. That was fine, and what I’d expected.

I found Uncle Saul at the canapé table. He hugged me. “You have to try these okra treats. You won’t believe how they taste.”

I tried one—not really an okra fan, but he was right. “What is that stuffed with?”

“I think it’s sausage and some kind of filler.”

I tasted it again. “Quinoa? I think that’s what it is.”

“Whatever it is, I like it.” He grabbed another one and looked over my shoulder at the same time. “Are you here alone? Where is everyone?”

“Well, Delia and Ollie are finding each other.” I nodded toward their corner. “Miguel was busy. I’ve taken up a lot of his time. I’m glad he could be there for the other parts of the race.”

He smiled and put his arm around me. “Zoe, you sound like the people who don’t win the Academy Award. ‘It was just an honor to be nominated.’ Come on. Cheer up. You’ll see him tomorrow.”

He was wearing a bright blue and pink checkered jacket over a matching vest. His dress pants were a shade close to the pink in the jacket. Uncle Saul could be a snappy dresser when he chose.

“Excuse me.” A young woman wearing a small black fascinator on her blond hair joined us. “I’m Tiffany Bryant. I represent the committee putting on carnival next year. I was wondering if you’d be interested in bringing your food truck to the festivities? We’re interested in having the best food Mobile has to offer.”