The smell hit the Honorable Mayor Theodore Samuel Pembroke as soon as he opened the door to the Atlas Town Hall.

"Jesus. It smells like Lucifer's under drawers in here." His chubby hand quickly flew up to protect his fragile nose from the odor.

"Mayor," his secretary, media police, and confident, Marge Sanders put her hand on his arm, gently but firmly pushing it down. "You're here to judge the deviled egg competition. These fine women have made some sumptuous treats for you."

He tried to smile, he truly did, but he hadn't smelled anything this offensive since he had been forced to use the portajohn when he worked construction over forty years ago.

He followed Marge over to the table where nearly twenty platters of deviled eggs were arranged. He did a slow walk, pausing and nodding like he was giving this serious consideration. He circled twice, making comments like, "Is that pimento I see?" or "I've never seen yolk that color before."

One of the women, Mrs. Trumble, grew impatient with his tour of the offerings. "Mayor, you have to taste them."

Mayor Pembroke glanced over at Marge. A wordless way of asking if he really had to.

Her nod almost imperceptible to all but him.

"Well, I can hardly wait to start."

He had never been a big deviled egg eater. His first girlfriend, Katie Brewster had ruined them for him. Always trying to perfect the deviled eggs. She would put the paper plate wrapped with foil in front of him, the eggs arranged artistically on it. She fed him plate after plate of them, trying to work up the nerve to enter the deviled egg contest. She had been smart, kind and beautiful, but a cook, she was not. As far as he knew, she had never entered the deviled egg competition.

He lifted the one with the red pimento sticking out, brought it to his nose and sniffed it. He bit a small piece off and chewed it slowly. Bland. Colorful but bland. "Yum. Love the color."

Platter number two was covered with overstuffed eggs. The yokes had been coarsely mashed and hints of black shown through. "Pepper?"

Marge leaned closer. "I believe it's black olive."

Pembroke held his smile. "Greek deviled eggs. What will they think of next?" His bite was even smaller. The pungent tang of the olive canceling out any egg flavor.

The next egg was a Tabasco egg. His eyes watered until Marge handed him her bottle of water. "Aye, Chihuahua," he whispered.

Each platter that passed under his eyes and each egg that he struggled to swallow, had Mayor Pembroke wishing his term in office was over.

He lifted an egg off of the last platter, which as it turned out was a double layer of Dixie paper plates and a layer of aluminum foil. There was no fancy garnish, the eggs had been cut unevenly. It smelled no better or worse than the others. He lifted it up, nodded pleasantly at the women and popped it in his mouth. But he felt a warmth envelope him.

It wasn't terrible, but he couldnt say it was good either. Just a run of the mill deviled egg. He swallowed and lifted a napkin from the table to wipe the corners of his mouth. "Thank you all, Ladies. This was one of my official duties that I have no trouble performing. So, while I go back for seconds, uh, I mean give careful consideration to these entries, I'm going to ask you all to exit the hall and wait outside."

He watched them all head for the door. Mrs. Trumble, with her haughty attitude, Mrs. Williams, the town gossip, Mrs. Santino, who made sure everyone knew North Carolina did not know what real Italian food tasted like. Then there were others, people who complained at town hall meeting over the silliest stuff. Then he saw a young girl, probably no more than a teenager, shuffle out with her head down.

"Marge, who was that girl?"

"Mr. Mann's granddaughter, Evelyn. She came to live with them after his wife got sick. Poor girl, nursed Miss Katie all the way to the end."

Pembroke nodded. The girl had learned it from her grandma. That's what had been different about the deviled eggs on the last plate. They had been Katie's eggs.

"Mayor, have you made your decision? These ladies will be breaking down the door in about two minutes. You have no idea how competitive they are."

Mayor Pembroke held out his hand for the blue ribbon. He walked down to the last plate and laid the ribbon beside it.

"That's your choice?" Marge asked. "I'm not doubting your reasons but why these eggs?"

"Because they were made with love. I could taste it in every bite."

Mayor Pembroke stepped to the back of the hall, watched as the women rushed to the table, their expectant smiles vanished as they searched for the ribbon.

Evelyn looked around the table. Her hands flew to her mouth as she found the blue ribbon. "I won." She said softly. "I really won."

Pembroke smiled, he closed his eyes and imagined young Katie Brewster standing there. She hadn't lived to see her granddaughter win, but he had no doubt she was cheering from heaven.