I never expected to find a county fair in the middle of suburban Virginia. Sure, out in the southwestern part of the state, a county fair makes sense. That’s where all the farms and ranches are. It feels right. A county fair doesn’t feel like it fits in the neighborhoods of Austin County. But here I am, and here’s the fair.
My participation started as a lark. A group of my friends have been pushing me to open my own bakery for the last year or so. I don’t hate my corporate job; I just know I’m more than my job. I’m more than another person working for the man. However, I’m not sure that I have what it takes to open a bakery. I’m most at home when I’m baking something, but that doesn't mean I'd be a successful bakery owner. Over drinks on Valentine’s Day, my friends dared me to find a way to test whether people other than them enjoyed my baking. We found the fair online. I didn’t have to register in advance, so this gave me time to overthink the entire experience. Overthinking is one of my super powers.
Flash forward six months to August and the Austin County police station. Yes, a police station. Who knew that agreeing to one simple think, baking in a county fair, would land me in an interrogation room?
I’m not alone at the station. Two other contestants are with me. It’s actually their fault here in the first place. Myrna and Doris couldn’t help themselves with their vendetta. Thirty-four years of participating in the fair apparently creates county fair monsters.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to the start this nonsense - July 4 weekend. That’s when I met Myrna for the first time.
The fireworks get more and more crowded every year. I scanned the crowds looking for the flag my friends Chris and Emma put up for our picnic site. It was a shark-shaped flag, which made it easier to spot among the American flags. I made my way across the park to our spot, carrying a tote bag full of min-pies and cookie bars. I always baked too much, but what can I say? I love to bake (said in my best Sarah Jessica Parker in Girls Just Want to Have Fun voice).
Most of my group are friends from high school. I met Chris, Emma, and Jane in the ninth grade and we’ve been friends ever since. Chris and Emma got engaged in the spring, so wedding planning was in full effect. Leigh and Josh joined our group later; work friends of mine who became friend-friends. We’ve been coming to the fireworks as a group for the last few years, since I moved back to town. Everyone brings food and we enjoy a nice night out.
“Thank goodness, the baked goods have arrived. I thought we’d be pie-less this year,” Chris greets me with the same thing he says every year.
“Parking sucks and the shuttle is down a van, so it took longer than planned.” I put down my tote and lawn chair and started arranging pies and cookie bars on the platters I brought. Standing back to look at all the goodies arranged on the platters, I realized I really did over-bake this year. There were three types of mini-pies: cherry, apple, and lemon, and two bar cookies. I skipped frosting the bars because of the heat. I was sure no one would turn down taking leftovers home. I guess I got carried away.
“Look at the little pies!” Janie exclaimed, “These are so cute!”
“Thanks! I found these little pie tins and couldn’t help myself. They’re silicone so I can reuse them. The lemon pie and butterscotch bars are both possible contenders for my county fair entry, so I need honest feedback.” I was actually going through with the baking contest in a few weeks. I wanted to enter at least two recipes. I settled on s’mores bar, but was still trying to pick a second recipe. I was having a hard time deciding and hoped my friends would help me decide. As we settled into our picnic, I noticed a group of older women watching us from a nearby blanket. They were all in the late 60s, maybe a little older, and had an impressive picnic spread. I could see an assortment of cookies and bars, cupcakes, and what looked like fresh baked bread. One lady stood out, and was staring at me. I waved, hoping to seem friendly.
She nodded at me and went back to her group. My friends didn’t notice the exchange; I tucked it away and went on enjoying the rest of the evening. The fireworks were amazing, and almost all of my baked goods were eaten. As I walked back to my car later in the evening, I got the sense that someone was following me. Maybe they’re just walking in the same direction, I thought. There were plenty of people around so I would be fine. I got to my car without incident. As I was loading my chair and bags into my trunk, I was startled by a voice.
“Thinking of entering the baking contest at the fair?”
I turned to see the lady from the fireworks. She was shorter than me, but seemed very powerful. Her was in a perfect salt and pepper bob despite the humidity. She was dressed casually, but stylishly.
“You startled me,” I replied.
“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to.” She stepped a little closer. “I overheard you at the fireworks. My name is Myrna. I’ve been competing at the fair for over 30 years. I thought we could talk.” Myrna stepped her way closer to me.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. Was this a friendly “I want to help out a new competitor” kind of help or a “I will mess up your life if you take away my blue ribbon” kind of help? I was curious, but nervous. I shook Myrna’s hand, “I’m Alice. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Alice. I’m always excited to meet a new contestant. It’s good to see younger people getting involved in the community and keeping the fine art of baking alive.” Myrna looked excited.
“I love to bake, always have. The fair sounds like a fun way to share my love baking,” I replied.
“Wonderful! I’d like to invite you to meet some other long-time participants. We have coffee on Wednesday mornings at 7:30. Would you like to join us this week?”
“I would love to. It would be nice to talk with some experienced competitors about the fair. I have so many questions.” It was perfect.
Myrna beamed at me. “We’ll see you on Wednesday then. We meet at Tilly’s. Do you know where that is?”
Myrna waved and walked toward the group of women I saw her with earlier. I waved at the ladies. They nodded and walked away. Wednesday was going to be interesting.
Tilly’s Coffee - Wednesday morning, Four Weeks until the Fair
I arrived at Tilly’s a few minutes early on Wednesday. I didn’t dare be late; these were the type of women who didn’t forgive tardiness. I found parking easily, rare for the neighborhood. I took that as a good sign. The ladies were already at a table near the window, giving them a view of the comings and goings on the street and inside the cafe.
“Alice! You made it,” Myrna called me over.
“Wouldn’t have missed it. Good morning.” I took the empty seat next to Myrna.
“Let me introduce everyone. This is Doris, our resident vegetable lady.” She motioned to the woman to her left.
“And Inez, our beekeeper.” Inez sat to Doris’s right. “And finally, Alma. Alma is our cross stitcher and grows the most beautiful roses in the entire county.” Alma was to my left.
“This is Alice. She’s entering the baking competition for the first time this year.”
“It’s so nice to meet all of you.” I smiled at each woman.
Before anything else could be said, our waitress came to take orders. I ordered a latte and maple scone, Tilly’s house special.
“What are you planning on entering, Alice?” Inez asked.
“So far, I have a bar cookie planned and either a cake or fruit bread. I was going to try for a pie, but my pastry game has been off lately.” The pastry was getting on my last nerve.
“It’s the heat. Good to hear your categories. You’re not competing with Myrna’s sourdough or award-winning chocolate chip cookies.” Doris smiled at me in a way that was both friendly, but also made me feel like she’d cut me if I was directly competing with Myrna.
“Now Doris, that’s not why I wanted Alice to meet us. A little competition is good for the soul.” Myrna patted my hand as she spoke.
“I know, I know. I just wanted to check,” Doris replied. “You’re right to have more than one entry. Always enter more than one category.”
Our coffees arrived, and the ladies shifted to non-fair related topics for a few minutes. I enjoyed their easy banter. I could tell they’d been friends a long time. They told me about how they met. Doris and Inez were sisters-in-law; and Myrna and Alma were neighbors. Myrna and Doris’s husbands had worked together, which was how they all met. That was in 1974, and they’d been friends ever since. They all lived in Richmond Heights, one of the older neighborhoods in the county. I lived in the same area, but in the downtown area. As much as I was enjoying the conversation, I had to leave soon for work. Myrna, sending my need to leave, moved the conversation back to the fair.
“Alice, I know you probably need to get to work so I’ll get right to it. We want you to be part of our fair team this year.” The other women eagerly looked my way for an answer.
“Your fair team? What does that mean?” A fair team was new to me.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about the fair. Over the years, it’s gone from a sweet tradition to a pretty cutthroat competition. Alliances have formed and competition is fierce. We need a younger person to round our skill set, particularly in the baking categories.” Myrna paused and sipped her tea.
Doris continued, “It might seem like and innocent community event, but it’s high stakes. Winning at the fair ensures us a certain place within the community. We’ve been winning since 1977. We want to keep it that way, but we also want to keep things fresh and fun.”
All eyes were on me. I didn’t want to say no, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to say yes. There was something about these women that made me think they’d get me into trouble. The silence dragged on for what seemed like an eternity even though it was only a few seconds.
“Sure, I’d love to be on your fair team.” The ladies clapped and cheered.
“Excellent, dear. We’re so glad you're on the team.” Alma gave me a side hug.
We finished up our coffees so I could leave for work. I gave them my phone number and agreed to meet for lunch on Saturday for a team strategy session. We’d talk recipes and they’d tell me all about our competition. As I got up to leave, Myrna asked for my t-shirt size. “We have shirts, dear. Like any good team.”
Or gang, I thought to myself.
“How’s the fair prep going?” Emma poured us each a glass of wine. We were finally catching up after the last few busy weeks.
“My recipes have been finalized and I have my baking schedule all mapped out for next week. The ladies are getting their items ready too. You should see the tomatoes and cucumbers Doris grew. I don’t know if tomatoes can be pretty, but they are. Alma’s needlework is beautiful; truly a work of art. And the honey! I had no idea honey could be so many colors. Inez is a genius.” I rambled on and on.
“What about Myrna?” Emma was obsessed with Myrna.
“I have sampled sixteen different kinds of bread since I met her. Myrna can’t help herself when it comes to baking. We have that in common. I brought you some to try. It goes great with soft cheese.” I brought out several containers from my tote bag. Emma was always my sampler, so why shouldn’t she be Myrna’s?
“Something is up though; I can feel it. I keep walking in on conversations and they change the subject fast.” I passed Emma some bread and cheese.
“Holy cats! This bread is amazing. Chris can’t have any. Mine, my precious.” Emma ate another piece. “Do you think they’re planning something?”
“I don’t really know. The snippets I’ve heard include mention of our “rival” team, but no specifics. They’ve told me other teams play dirty, but I don’t really know that means. We don’t, but others do. I’ve asked, but I don’t get any straight answers.”
In the weeks since joining the team, I’d joined the ladies for Wednesday coffees and Saturday morning practice bakes. It was all very tame, but helpful. They me insight on the competition and what the judges would be looking for in my categories. We sampled baked goods and produce, and watched as Alma’s needlework came to life. However, the last few days felt off.
“Maybe they’re hazing you. Stuff you full of carbs, keep you out of conversations, provide too much feedback. At your next meeting, they’ll spring something wild on you. Maybe you should get one of them alone.” Emma topped off our wine.
“Good idea. I can get to Tilly’s early this week and get someone alone. I know their schedules now.” This could work. We moved on to other topics, and I put the fair out my mind for the rest of the night.
Wednesday Morning, Less than a week until the fair
Alma was at our regular table when I arrived for coffee. We hadn’t had much one on one time since I joined the team since her events didn’t involve food. I knew the least about her, but I was hoping that wouldn’t matter.
“You’re early today, Alice.” Alma smiled as I sat down.
“My cat was being a little jerk this morning, so I ended up getting up earlier than normal,” I explained. This was half true; Lou had been a jerk this morning, but I was wide awake before he started jumping on my head.
“Cats like to remind us that they were once worshiped as gods.” Alma had three cats who were spoiled rotten.
“They do. Lou is a good boy, but it’s his house and he knows it.” Our regular waitress brought over coffee while we waited for everyone else. I had to pick my words carefully. Alma was not the one I planned on approaching.
“Are you excited for the fair? Your first competition!” Alma smiled, a little wistfully as if she were remembering her first fair.
“I’m less nervous than I thought I’d be thanks to you ladies,” I was hoping my compliment would be my in with Alma.
“We’re happy to do it! We all what it’s like to get started in the competitive events. Why wouldn’t we help someone so talented?”
“That’s very kind of you to say. I have to admit, I expected more drama with the teams and the speech Myrna gave when I first met you.” Please let her bite, please let her tell me something.
“We may have exaggerated a bit, dear. It’s all in good fun.” I could tell Alma was being evasive.
Before I could respond, Myrna and Doris arrived. I failed; no information I could use. The ladies looked solemn, though, which was very unlike both of them. Alma noticed right away, signaling for coffee even before they sat down.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I might not have gotten information from Alma, but there was no way they could get out of telling me what was going on now.
The trio shared a look, but no one spoke. Myrna looked tired and Doris looked disappointed, with a side of really pissed off. It seemed like an eternity before anyone said anything. Myrna broke the silence, “We need to wait for Inez.”
“Is someone hurt?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No one is hurt...yet,” Doris replied. Inez rushed in. “Did you tell her?”
“We were waiting for you.” Doris sipped her coffee and gave Inez a pointed look.
“Well, I’m here. Let’s get it over with.” Inez was the only one who didn’t look upset.
“Alice, we haven’t been entirely honest with you about our team,” Myrna began. “The rivalry with one of the other teams is more complicated than we originally shared.”
My mind was racing; what could possibly be this serious. Were they paying off county fair judges? I said nothing, waiting for her to go on with the story.
Doris picked it up instead. “It wasn’t always like this. Back in the beginning, it was just a nice community event to celebrate summer and the talented people who live in Austin County. But then Mary Agnes moved to town and started competing. And all hell broke loose.”
“Mary Agnes?” I asked. No one had mentioned Mary Agnes.
“Mary Agnes Riley. She moved to the Heights in 1976 when he husband’s company transferred him to their Virginia office. They moved in across the street from Alma, in the house with the yellow door. We welcomed her to our group. She’s a baker too, breads and pies mostly. Wicked talented with peonies too.” Doris sipped her coffee, lost in her memories.
She continued, “Everything went well until the summer of 1989. Up until then, we all entered unique categories and supported one another like we do today. It was still competitive, but not direct, you know? There were other groups like ours, and we looked at them as our competition, but still in a friendly way. Well, that summer Mary Agnes decided she was going to enter the chocolate chip cookie category. She never expressed an interest and that’s Myrna’s signature cookie. Mary Agnes wanted to “branch out” that year.”
“We got into a terrible argument,” Myrna picked up the story. “We both said some awful things to one another, and Mary Agnes stormed out of Doris’s house, vowing to beat me and ruin our standings in the fair community. I wanted to figure out a compromise, but she wouldn’t have it.” I patted her hand, and she smiled for the first time all morning.
“What we didn’t know was that Mary Agnes stole a copy of my secret chocolate chip cookie recipe, along with several other family recipes. She never used the chocolate chip cookie recipe, but she did pass off several other recipes of mine as hers. I never called her out on any of this. We’ve never been the group to get into the fair drama. I was embarrassed by our argument and tried to apologize. She ignored every attempt. She’s also bad-mouthed us every year since that summer.” Myrna seemed so small at that moment, the weight of a lost friendship weighing so heavily on her.
“Until now,” Alma spoke up. “We got word that Mary Agnes is going to finally use Myrna’s cookie recipe as her own. Apparently, 20 years is the timeline for treachery. She’s going to use the recipe and tell everyone that Myrna stole it from her.”
I didn’t really know what to say. A 20-year grudge seemed like a lot to me, but I didn’t know Mary Agnes or really know these ladies. Was winning at the county fair worth theft and vicious gossip?
“So, what are we going to do?” I asked.
“We’re going to get the recipe back,” Doris replied with steel in her voice.
“And you, Alice, you’re out ace in the hole.” Myrna signaled for a coffee refill and leaned in to tell me the plan.
I looked up every time the door to the cafe opened. Mary Agnes was supposed to be here in five minutes. The longer I sat, the more nervous I got. While I entertained Mary Agnes with a tale about being kicked out of the team, the ladies were planning to commit a little breaking and entering. They were going into Mary Agnes’s house to retrieve the recipes. I had to keep her busy for at least an hour. Alma would text me when they were out. I had no idea how they planned to get in and out of the house, but I was glad I didn’t know. The ladies thought the less I knew the better.
A smartly dressed woman entered the cafe. This was Mary Agnes; she was the right age and looked like she would have fit perfectly in with Myrna and the other ladies. She had a slightly cool air about her, but was more approachable than I expected.
“I am. Nice to meet you, Mary Agnes,” I stood up and shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you too. I heard a rumor Myrna had a protege this year. Too bad she went and messed it up. Typical Myrna. That group…” Mary Agnes trailed off before insulting the group anymore.
“I appreciate you meeting with me on such short notice. I didn’t know who else to talk to. I still want to enter the fair, but am so nervous they may try something.” Myrna had advised me to be dramatic, but not overly so.
“Those women!” Mary Agnes was getting riled up and I hadn’t really told her anything yet. “I’ve known them for over 40 years, and they may seem all sweet and helpful, but they’re not. They will throw you under the bus if it makes them look like the better people.”
“Funny, they said the same thing about you,” I sipped my tea and waited for her reaction.
Mary Agnes raised an eyebrow and snickered, “The stories I could tell you. But let’s save that for another time. Tell me what happened.”
I spent the next few minutes telling her a story about wanting to branch out and compete in the same category as Myrna, but being told that wasn’t how things were done on the team. Even though my recipe was the best and was very different from hers, it wasn’t allowed.
“Myrna doesn’t like competition. She’s a bit of a control freak, but even I have to admit, she’s one of the best bakers I’ve ever seen. She just knows how ingredients come together and she makes them work for her. The combination of her talent and her control issues is too much, though.” I was about to ask Mary Agnes for more details when her cell phone rang. She ignored it. As she started to say something more, it rang again.
She picked up her phone. “Oh, it’s my home security company. I need to take this.” She stepped away from the table.
Home security company? Did the ladies know she had a security system? Alma lived across the street. I got out my phone to text her, to see what was going on. Before I could do anything, Mary Agnes returned to the table.
“Well, it seems like your teammates have been reduced to common criminal behavior. The police are at my house. Myrna and Doris broke in. I have a feeling you already knew that.” I didn’t reply, but my face gave it away. I didn’t have a poker face. She continued, “You might as well follow me home and help your friends.” I paid for our drinks and followed her outside.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you and your friends?” Mary Agnes was angry.
I exploded at her. “What’s wrong with me and my friends? What’s wrong with you? You stole recipes and passed them off as yours. You bad-mouthed them for years. Over what - cookies? All I wanted was to compete in a freaking baking contest, not get in the middle of some mean girl drama. What’s wrong with me?” People were staring at us and two police officers were heading our way.
“Ma’am, is this woman bothering you?” The question was directed at Mary Agnes.
“She’s not bothering me, but she is involved in a situation at my house right now. Two of her friends tried to break into my home and she was helping to keep me out of the way. I was heading home when she started yelling at me.” Mary Agnes’s reply wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t true either.
“That’s a serious accusation, ma’am. What’s your address? I’d like to check in before we proceed.” Officer One motioned to his partner to stay with me while he escorted Mary Agnes over to their car.
I smiled at Officer Two, “This is just a big misunderstanding.” He stopped me.
“I wouldn’t say anything right now, ma’am. You don’t want to get yourself into more trouble.” He kept an eye on me and one on his partner. The minutes ticked by as he checked to see if Mary Agnes’s story checked out. She stood next to Officer One, with a smug smile on her face.
Officer One walked over to me and his partner. “Well, miss, we’re going to need you to come with us.”
“Am I under arrest?” I couldn’t believe how quickly this stupid fair had spiraled out of control.
“No, but we need to get your statement and figure out what’s going on. A few of your friends are on the way to the station for questioning too. While they didn’t mention your name, Mrs. Riley did, so we have to take her seriously.” Officer Taylor was his name.
“I understand.” I didn’t, but what else was I going to say? “May I call someone before we go?”
“Not right now. You’ll have a chance at the station.” Officer Taylor and his partner, Officer Daniels walked me towards their car.
Mary Agnes smiled at me. “I told you your friends were bad news. See what they’ve gotten you into?”
I said nothing to her as I got into the police car. I was riding in a police car to be questioned at the police station because of cookies.
My day had not improved since arriving at the police station. Myrna and Doris were nowhere to be seen; Officer Taylor mentioned something about them being in a holding cell, but didn’t give me any details. I was escorted to an interrogation room once we arrived. The officers kept assuring me that I wasn’t being arrested or anything; they just had questions for me. That was it.
I had been sitting in the interrogation room for two hours. Officers Taylor and Daniel had asked me a bunch of questions which I answered truthfully. I told them about how I met Myrna and her friends and what I knew of their relationship with Mary Agnes. I didn’t know much about their plan to get into her house, but I admitted to inviting her to coffee under false pretenses. They took their notebooks and left me in the room. I should have been home putting together my recipe cards and making a shopping list for the weekend. I had taken two weeks off of work so I didn’t have to worry about going in. Oh God, was I going to get fired because of this? Would my boss find out?
Before I could have more of a panic attack about getting fired, Officer Taylor came back into the room. His face was completely neutral, so I had no sense of what was about to happen.
“Ms. Simon, thank you for waiting. I appreciate your help and your willingness to answer all of our questions. You’re free to go.” He smiled at me and motioned to the door.
“What about Myrna and Doris? Do they get to leave too?” Despite the fact that I was currently sitting in an interrogation room because of their crazy idea, I couldn’t help but worry about Myrna and Doris.
“They should be released later today. We’re not charging them with anything. They weren’t technically breaking and entering; they had a key. So, while Mrs. Riley insists we charge them with something, there’s nothing much we can do. They opened a door, the alarm went off, and they were startled. They didn’t actually enter the house or take anything. The security company held them because Mrs. Riley said she didn’t know who they were, but we know that’s not true. We can’t really prove anything, so we’re letting them go.” Officer Taylor looked relieved this was all over. It seemed silly compared to actual crime.
“Entering a baking competition was supposed to fun. I’m sorry this happened.” I grabbed my purse and got up to leave.
Officer Taylor walked me to the front of the station. “I hope you still enter. It sounds like you’re a pretty good baker. Don’t let their problems with one another keep you from entering. These ladies need to work this out, but you don’t need to be part of that.”
“Thank you, Officer. I appreciate that.” I stopped short as I saw Myrna and Doris being escorted out of holding to the front of the station. They looked proud of themselves, but also a little embarrassed. I figured that was more for getting caught than anything else.
I walked over to them. “Do you want me to wait with you? My friend is coming to take me back to my car, but I can wait with you.”
Myrna smiled at me, “No dear, you go home. Inez is on her way to get us. Thankfully, our husbands are on their annual golfing trip. They would be none too pleased with us.”
“Okay, as long as you have a way home.” I started to walk away, but turned back to them. “As much as I enjoyed being on the team, I’m done. I’m going to enter the competition without you. I hope you understand.”
Myrna and Doris both nodded. Myrna replied, “Of course. We didn’t mean you any harm, but could have ruined a lot for you. Enjoy the competition, dear. Best of luck.”
“Thank you. I really mean that.” I walked out of the station to Emma’s waiting car.
County Fair Intrigue - Recipe Stealing, Breaking and Entering, and a 40-Year Grudge
The headline on the community website news feed made me chuckle. The county fair had come and gone, but people were still trying to figure out exactly what happened between Myrna and Mary Agnes. This story was the most recent in a series by a local writer who suspected something was amiss when five of the most seasoned fair competitors decided not to compete in any events this year. Myrna, Doris, Inez, Alma, and Mary Agnes all bowed out of the competition in the days following the alleged break-in. I don’t know what transpired between the women, but there seemed to be some type of truce in place. The writer couldn't get any of them to comment for her stories, but that didn't stop others from offering theories and 40-year old gossip. She never figured out I was connected to the ladies, so I stayed out of the articles. I hadn't talked to any of them since the day at the police station. It was the best option for me.
I entered the fair as planned, but changed my recipes at the last minute. I realized I had been doing what Myrna and the ladies wanted, not what I wanted all along. I wasn’t being true to myself as a baker, and that had to change. I decided to enter my coconut cake and my chocolate chip cookie bars. It wasn’t Myrna’s category, but it was close enough. My cake won a Grand Champion award in both my section and department, one of the highest awards given at the fair. The bars won a first premium class award for the bars category. Not too bad for a first-time contestant. My friends were all there to celebrate with me at the awards ceremony. When I went up to receive my awards for the cake, I saw Myrna, Doris, Inez, and Alma standing in the back of the room. They were all smiling and cheering for me. I waved at them and they waved back. I took it as a sign; one generation of competitors allowing the next generation to take over.
