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huge metal table overflowed with
     paper sacks of food: canned goods and boxed food.
    “Just what poor people need,” Annie said. “Cheap macaroni and cheese.”
    “Humph,” Vera said.
    “Hello. Is anybody here?” Sheila yelled.
    “Yes, I’m back here,” Rachel said. “Back in the pantry.”
    They followed the sound of her voice, but only after placing their bags on the table,
     and not before Sheila whispered, “Perfect.”
    When they entered the tiny room, Sheila was shocked by the piles of food. All of it
     was neatly organized. Here was the fresh food. Bread. Fruit. Vegetables. Bags of it
     ready to go.
    The only light coming into the room came from the window, from the setting sun.
    “Oh, you made it, I see.” Rachel looked up at Sheila from her work.
    “Well, I told you I’d try to make it,” Sheila replied.
    “We left our donations on the table. That okay?” Vera said.
    “It’s fine,” she said and went back to her work.
    Annie shut the door.
    “Keep the door open, please,” Rachel said. “I need to hear if anybody else comes in.”
    “Oh, I think they will find you,” Vera said.
    “Just give us a minute,” Sheila said, concentrating on keeping her tone light.
    Rachel looked up at them and set down her marker. “A minute for what? I don’t have
     time for chitchat.”
    “I think you should make the time,” Vera said, with a note of menace in her voice.
     Just a note. Vera was way too polite to be too menacing. But she didn’t like Rachel,
     who had also thought that dancing was a sin.
    Rachel looked at Annie, who was standing in front of the door with her arms crossed.
     “What’s this about, then?”
    “It’s about DeeAnn’s pie,” Sheila said.
    “ Pftt,” she huffed. “What do I know about that, except that it made about half the judges
     sick?”
    “Someone laced it with cumin,” Vera said.
    “Someone,” Sheila said and crossed her arms.
    Rachel’s stern face cracked into a fake-looking smile. “Are you suggesting that I—”
    “We talked to Macy,” Vera said. “She says she didn’t do it.”
    “Look, this is a bit daft. Do you really think one of us wants to win that competition
     so bad that we’d lace her pie with cumin? I don’t need to resort to such tactics.
     I’m a good baker. I’ve won every year for three years in a row,” she said, with more
     than a slight boasting note to her voice.
    “Macy said that she handed DeeAnn’s pie to you and that you took it to the fire hall.
     Is that true?” Vera said.
    “Yes, it’s true,” she said.
    “What did you do to DeeAnn’s pie?” Paige said. “You might as well admit it. She can’t
     win at this point. What did you do to that pie? How did you do it?”
    Rachel’s hands went to her hips. “I didn’t touch the thing, except to deliver it to
     the transport. And what’s more, I don’t appreciate the accusation. Well, I never!”
    “You can say that again,” Paige mumbled under her breath.
    “Wait,” Annie said. “Did you transport it yourself ?”
    “No. My second cousin Ruth has a van. She transported it. Now, I’d thank you to leave,”
     she said. “I’m busy.”
    “We’ll leave when we get some answers,” Vera said, crossing her arms.
    “I’m sorry, ladies. I don’t have any for you,” she said and went back to her work.
    The group stood and looked at one another. Now what?
    “Do you need some help with that?” Annie asked.
    “Not from the likes of you. Just please get out,” she said.
    Annie picked up the box, anyway, and placed it on the counter for her, then shrugged
     and opened the door. As Vera walked out of the room, she did so with a ballet spin
     and a flourish of her hands and glared at Rachel.
    They then gathered on the sidewalk.
    “That just made me feel awful,” Annie said.
    “Don’t feel too bad, Annie. She’s a harsh, judgmental woman. Believe me,” Vera said.
    “We may have been a little hard on her,” Sheila said, “but the woman is