Page 102 of Meadowsweet and Marigold
"Fine," she said quickly, not wanting to explain the complex emotions Cypress's presence stirred up. "Just surprised, that's all."
The judging process was thorough and theatrical, with each team presenting their pie to the panel while the crowd watched with rapt attention. When their turn came, Gus lifted their creation with obvious pride, the lattice crust catching the afternoon light beautifully.
"This is our mixed berry pie," he announced to the judges with the confidence of someone presenting a masterpiece. "Fresh berries from my own garden, combined with traditional techniques and a healthy dose of collaboration."
The first two judges tasted their pie with obvious enjoyment, making appreciative sounds and taking notes on their clipboards. But when Cypress took his bite, his expression became more complex, thoughtful in a way that made Marigold's nerves spike with anxiety.
"Sweet," he said finally, his gaze finding hers across the table. "But you used to like spice, didn't you?"
The comment felt loaded with meaning beyond its surface observation, a reference to their shared history that had no place in this public setting. She felt heat crawl up her neck, partly from embarrassment and partly from irritation at his presumption.
"I did," she admitted, keeping her voice level despite her discomfort. "But sweet stuff is my new addiction. People change, tastes evolve."
The response was pointed enough to make it clear she wasn't just talking about food preferences, and she saw understanding flicker in his eyes along with something that might have been regret.
Gus, apparently sensing undercurrents he didn't fully understand, stepped smoothly into the conversation with thekind of social grace that diffused tension without acknowledging it directly.
"You know," he said, addressing all three judges with equal warmth, "there's something magical about pie that goes beyond individual ingredients or personal preferences. The distance we travel to get quality components in a small town like this, the time invested in perfecting techniques, the patience required for proper baking—all of that matters."
He paused, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently before continuing.
"But in the end, it comes down to love incorporated into the pie, as well as the hands and partners who work together to make something that feeds both body and soul. That's what makes the difference between good pie and great pie—the intention and care that go into every step of the process."
The small speech was beautiful and heartfelt, delivered with genuine conviction that made the other judges nod with obvious approval. Even Cypress seemed affected by the sincerity of Gus's words, his expression softening into something more genuine than his earlier provocative comment.
"Beautifully said," the bakery owner commented, making notes on her clipboard. "And the pie itself reflects exactly that kind of care and attention."
"Agreed," added the food writer. "This is technically excellent and emotionally satisfying—exactly what pie should be."
Cypress was quiet for a moment longer, seemingly weighing his words carefully before speaking. "It's clear this was made by people who understand both the craft and each other," he said finally. "Whatever personal preferences might be, there's no denying the quality of the collaboration here."
The judges moved on to the remaining entries, leaving Marigold and Gus to wait with the other contestants for the final results. The afternoon sun was beginning to slant towardevening, casting long shadows across the town square and bathing everything in golden light that made the entire scene feel like something from a Norman Rockwell painting.
"Think we won?" Gus asked quietly, his arm sliding around her waist in a gesture that felt both protective and celebratory.
"Honestly?" she replied, leaning into his warmth. "I don't care. This whole day has been perfect regardless of what the judges decide."
When the announcer finally returned to call for attention, the entire crowd fell silent with anticipation. "After careful consideration and extensive tasting," he began dramatically, "our judges have reached their decision!"
The tension was almost unbearable as he worked through the third-place and second-place winners, building suspense with the practiced skill of someone who'd done this many times before.
"And our first-place winners, with the highest combined score in Harvest Pie-Off history," he paused for maximum effect, "Gus Holloway and Marigold Everhart!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause so enthusiastic that Marigold felt momentarily overwhelmed by the volume of support. Gus swept her into a spinning hug that lifted her feet off the ground, both of them laughing with pure joy at their unexpected victory.
"We won!" she gasped when he finally set her down, still not quite believing it was real.
"We did!" he confirmed, his face radiant with happiness. "Though honestly, I think we won the moment you agreed to do this with me."
The prize presentation was suitably ceremonial—a golden rolling pin trophy that was clearly more symbolic than functional, and an envelope containing details about their actualprize. When Marigold opened it and read the contents, her eyes widened with surprise and delight.
"A spa package for four at the resort in the next county," she announced to Gus, then looked up to address the crowd that was still gathered around them. "I'll be taking Gus, Meadow, and Flint!"
The declaration sent a fresh wave of excited chatter through the assembled townspeople, and she could practically see the gossip wheels turning as people processed the implications of her including all three men in her prize redemption.
"Are they official then?" someone called out from the crowd, the question loud enough to be heard by everyone present.
Before she could respond, Cypress stepped forward with that easy smile that had once made her heart race. "They aren't," he said with apparent authority, as if he had some special insight into her relationships.
