We stopped working and went out to the stage with Bobbie, Delia, and Uncle Saul.

Chef Art complained about the circumstances and told everyone what had happened to us. “You can’t expect someone to win a race with a killer threatening their lives. I demand a redo. I am a sponsor.”

But nothing he said made any difference. In fact, Patrick Ferris joked that he wished they’d thought of putting a stranger with a gun in each food truck for one of the challenges. He was only sorry there was no video footage of Marsh holding a gun on me.

I just realized—there was no sign of Allison. I’d been too involved with everything else going on to notice that she never came back. I complained about that since it violated the direct words of the challenge.

“She didn’t come back to me, either,” Bobbie argued. “It’s not like she was any help. When I catch that girl, we’re gonna have words, believe me.”

The sponsors and producers talked it over and decided that even though Bobbie’s daughter had left, technically, I had help from Chef Art and Marsh, which could’ve been a violation of the challenge, too. They didn’t care that Marsh had held us hostage.

In the end, the big check went to Bobbie Shields of Shut Up and Eat. She cried and wailed on stage, telling everyone about the money she was going to use to put her daughter through college.

I stood on the street with Ollie, Uncle Saul, and Delia. We were all holding hands and trying not to cry—at least I was trying not to cry.

“There’s still the Caribbean cruise,” Delia reminded me.

Like I could leave my business long enough to do something like that at this stage.

We’d tried as hard as we could, and made it through some difficult circumstances. I was happy for Bobbie, in a way, even though Ollie told me I was crazy.

So that was the interview I gave as the loser of the Mobile challenge.

It was embarrassing that I’d lost the challenge at home. I knew I’d hear about it for months to come. No matter. I knew Monday morning I would get up early and go out in the Biscuit Bowl to keep working toward my dream.

That was good enough for me.

– – – – – – –

Miguel was released from the hospital on Saturday morning. The police were done with his Mercedes, so I called Cole and he took me to the impound lot to pick up the car.

Crème Brûlée was difficult that morning, probably still trying to get over the trauma of the race. He didn’t want to eat and kept rolling around on the bed when I tried to get him up.

That didn’t stop me from spending a few extra minutes getting dressed up and coaxing my curls into doing what I wanted them to do. I wore a short white skirt and white and red striped top that looked great on me. I used a little extra eye makeup and wore a pair of white heels.

I looked at myself in the mirror at the diner and approved. I was hoping, if Miguel felt well enough, that we could have lunch out—alone together. We could always do dinner later.

It took forever to get him released from the hospital. We sat around and talked about everything that had happened.

“I know it didn’t end up the way you wanted.” He held my hand. “But I hope you don’t regret it.”

“Not at all. I’m sorry about what happened to you, but I hope you don’t regret it.”

He kissed me. “Not at all.”

Finally, the nurse came in with his release papers. He had to endure the trip to the front door in a wheelchair, but he’d already told me that he wanted to have lunch.

My heart was fluttering in anticipation of a tiny little booth at my favorite café, Lavender Blue. The food was very good there, and I knew the manager would give us a quiet place off by ourselves.

“I like your car,” I told him as he got into the passenger side. “It’s older, but it’s classy.”

“Are you equating me with my car?” He smiled.

“No. It may only be that I’d like any car right now. The Biscuit Bowl can be uncooperative sometimes.”

“What did you have in mind for lunch?”

“I really love Lavender Blue. Would that be okay with you?”

“Sure. It may sound corny, but as long as we’re together. You know what I mean?”

I knew my face was a little pink at his words. I didn’t care. Pink looked good on me. I squeezed his hand and headed across town for the café.

When we got there, there was a big sign in the window that said Closed. I didn’t know why it was there. The café was always open on Saturday.

“I’m sorry. Something must be wrong.” I knew the owner lived right upstairs. “I’m going to pop up there and see what’s going on.”

Miguel waited in the car. He said he wasn’t sure if he could do the three flights of stairs. I got to the front door of the café and peeked inside the window. The door flew open and loud voices yelled, “Surprise!”

I took a step backward, having had all the surprises I’d wanted for a while. Miguel was out of the car and behind me, urging me inside.

I saw both of my parents there, also Ollie and Delia. Wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen as Chef Art, in his cooking whites, waved to me.

Uncle Saul came to greet me. “We thought we’d put together a little lunch for you since you missed the victory dinner.”

I hugged him, and my friend, Lavender, who’d allowed everyone to hold the lunch in her café.

I thanked everyone for being there, and they toasted me with champagne. I toasted them back, and the party really got started.

Patti was there with Macey Helms. They were off duty and drinking with the rest of us.

“That was a brave thing you did in the food truck yesterday,” Patti said. “Stupid, but brave.”

“All’s well that ends well,” I quoted. “Did Marsh ever admit to killing Alex? He was confessing up a storm in the food truck.”

“Yes,” Helms said. “He tried to drag Tina into it, but I guess she was smart enough to stay away from him, except for that kiss I saw. Marsh was infatuated with her, which was why he killed Alex. He thought he could still have the money and have her, too. At least until the end when she told him to stay away from her. Then she became a liability as well.”

“So she’s going to testify against him,” Patti said. “You broke Marsh’s hand with that cane, by the way. But he’s claiming police brutality.”

I put my hand over my mouth in surprise. “I broke his hand? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well considering he’s up for the death penalty, I guess it’s not too big a deal.” Helms saluted me with her champagne. “Sorry you lost the race, though, Zoe.”

“Me, too.” I squeezed Miguel’s hand. “But that’s okay. I still have the Biscuit Bowl.”

They moved away, and Miguel and I circulated through the crowd. Cole was there, too. I had a chance to introduce Miguel to him, and thank Cole again for his help.

“I know this wasn’t what you had in mind,” Miguel said when we had a brief moment alone right before lunch was served.

“True, but we’ll get to that later.”

My cell phone buzzed in my handbag. Miguel excused himself to go to the restroom. I glanced at the text I’d received. It was my invitation to food truck rally during carnival festivities in February. To say I was excited about it would’ve been a terrible understatement.

I held up my glass again, and the room got quiet. “We’re going to the Mardi Gras!”

RECIPES FROM THE BISCUIT BOWL!

We’re so excited about selling our biscuit bowls at carnival! We’ll be working on new recipes, trying everything until then. It’s going to be hard to come up with food as exciting as that event!