"I'll make more this week," Cinn promised, though her eyes kept drifting to the courthouse clock.
Three o'clock came faster than expected. Then four. The sun started sinking behind the mountains, orange light slanting through the trees. Festival-goers began gathering near the gazebo where Mayor Finch would make the closing ceremony announcements.
"Should we pack up?" Lucy asked.
"Let's wait until after the ceremony," Cinn said.
Four-thirty. The crowd thickened around the gazebo. Josephine Caldwell stood with the other judges, their expressions serene. Belinda had closed her booth, standing near the gazebo in a rose-colored dress.
"Come on," I said, taking Cinn's hand. "Time for your moment."
Lucy stayed with our booth while we joined the crowd. I kept Cinn close, feeling her hand tremble slightly.
Mayor Finch climbed the gazebo steps, tapping the microphone. "Folks, what a festival it's been! The best attendance we've had in years."
He went on about tradition, community, the importance of supporting local artisans. Cinn's grip got tighter with each word.
"Without further ado," the mayor finally said, "I'll turn things over to our head judge, Josephine Caldwell, to announce this year's Halloween Candy Competition winner."
Josephine stepped forward. "After careful consideration of all entries, which we sampled yesterday at each booth, we selected a winner whose candy best captured the essence of our maple heritage while showing exceptional craftsmanship. The winner is Cinnamon Moretti of Sugar & Spice, for her Midnight Maple Shadows!"
The crowd erupted in applause. Cinn's face lit up with joy as people cheered. I lifted her and spun her around, both of us laughing.
"Go on," I urged, pushing her gently toward the gazebo. "Accept your prize."
She climbed the steps on steady legs. Josephine handed her the check and a wooden plaque. "Congratulations."
Then Belinda climbed the gazebo steps.
She grabbed the microphone from Mayor Finch's hand. "Excuse me, but I think the judges might want to reconsider their decision."
The crowd quieted. Mayor Finch frowned. "Mrs. Quimby, please return the microphone—"
"Not until everyone knows the truth." Her British accent had vanished, replaced by sharp New England consonants. "The judges just gave ten thousand dollars to a drug-addicted whore."
The silence that followed was absolute. I started moving toward the gazebo.
"Cinnamon Moretti sold herself online as 'Sweet Cinn.' She's a sex worker and a drug addict. Is that really who should represent our competition?"
"It was you." Cinn's voice was quiet but it carried. "You vandalized my shop."
The woman's carefully composed mask slipped. "I don't know what—"
"Thursday night. You broke in. Destroyed everything."
"No one wants someone like you here," she snarled, abandoning all pretense. "Woodbridge Falls doesn't need your kind."
"Hold on." Mayor Finch stepped forward, his face red. "Are you admitting to vandalism? Breaking and entering?"
I'd reached the gazebo steps. "Sugar & Spice was broken into Thursday night," I announced to the crowd. "Someone completely ransacked the kitchen—ingredients, equipment, everything. Cinnamon didn't report it because she wanted to win the competition fairly and didn’t want to risk being favored out of pity. We worked through the night to remake those truffles with whatever we could find."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Is this true?" Josephine asked Cinn.
Cinn nodded. "I didn't want special treatment. Just wanted my candy judged on its merits."
"You made those truffles after being vandalized?" Conrad adjusted his spectacles. "From scratch?"
