Free Gator Bowl by J. J. Cook Page A

not-so-friendly wager between Norman and Uncle Saul.
    I could see Minister Windom taking money from the newcomers and directing them to picnic tables. Mrs. Windom stood behind him in the same shabby outfit she’d worn to the cabin. I wondered where her new clothes, and tinted coif, had disappeared to.
    We were so busy in the hot kitchen that I barely had a chance to notice anything for almost an hour. At that point, we still had food, napkins, and plates. But we were out of plastic forks.
    â€œZoe,” Uncle Saul called out as he cooked chicken and Ollie manned the open window. “Go over to the church and get some silverware. They always have an extra supply. Ask Evelyn.”
    I ran out of the Airstream and over to where the Windoms were seated, enjoying some of every food being served. They scrupulously kept an eye on the big box where diners were putting in pieces of paper that contained the name of their favorite cook.
    â€œWe’re out of forks,” I told Evelyn. “Uncle Saul says you have some we could borrow.”
    Minister Windom’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if that isn’t going against the spirit of the contest.”
    â€œBorrowing forks?” I debated. “It’s not like we want you to get more biscuits for us. It’s only forks.”
    Evelyn put her hand on his shoulder. “I gave Norman some plastic wrap a while ago. I don’t see any difference.”
    He shrugged and glanced away as two diners approached to post their ballots. “Do what you please. Come back as soon as you can. We’re about to get really busy.”
    Evelyn and I walked into the church. The interior was as plain and ordinary as the exterior, but in better condition. The old wood pews were polished and smelled of lemon oil. There was a single stained glass window at the front of the sanctuary. It depicted a lion lying down with a lamb.
    â€œYou must work hard keeping up with all of this.” I smiled at Evelyn as we walked by the huge spray of fresh flowers on the altar.
    â€œMy husband is very busy writing sermons and handling other issues for the church,” she said. “It’s what I should do as his wife.”
    I noticed that she hadn’t lost everything she’d been sporting at the big-box discount store. There was a pretty gold and white daisy on a nice chain around her neck. When I looked a little closer, I could also see that she was wearing a wig. There was a spot by her forehead where her new hair was peeking through.
    â€œThose forks are back here in the kitchen.” She led the way. “We have lunches and potluck suppers here all the time.”
    I followed her back and saw the matching daisy ring on her finger. She definitely hadn’t been wearing either piece the first time I’d seen her.
    â€œIt must be hard being a minister’s wife,” I said. “My mother had a friend who was the wife of a minister. She always talked about being the last on the list when it came time for attention—or something
new
.”
    Evelyn handed me the forks after taking them down from a tall cabinet. Her brown eyes met mine. “It’s true. After a while, you come to wonder if you don’t deserve something better for all the years of work and neglect.”
    I touched the ring on her finger. “He doesn’t know, does he?”
    She shook her head. “I’d take it as a kindness if you didn’t tell him.”
    â€œSomeone will have to. You took the building fund money for the church, didn’t you?”
    â€œW-what?” she stammered. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œI think you do.” I didn’t want her to get into trouble, but if it came down to it, she’d have to confess.
    Tears came to her eyes. “I was counting it. Getting ready to make a deposit at the bank. I thought about all the things I’d never have—pretty new dresses, jewelry, things other