By the time two hours was up, there was a surprisingly good array of ice sculpture art for her mom to judge and, despite Bob’s reckless use of a power tool, a zero injury tally. Jenny and Wyatt’s hog—or hog’s head anyway—wouldn’t win a blue ribbon at the state fair, but it was cute with a quirky bend to one of its ears, and Henry was thrilled to bits at how it had turned out. Ray and Bob had sculpted a Christmas tree, and Winona, much to the chagrin of Arlo, had fashioned a gorgeous hothouse flower that bore a striking likeness to female genitalia if one was old enough to understand anatomy.

It definitely had sexual overtones.

The other three sculptures were a fish, a mermaid, and a star.

The quality varied across the pieces but, considering everyone but her mother was an amateur, they were all quite good. Simone exclaimed as much as she went around critiquing the pieces, giving constructive feedback. She praised Ray’s use of the chisel to give the leaves a tactile quality, Henry’s suggestion for the floppy ear, and Winona’s wild imaginative streak. But in the end, she gave the award to the mermaid.

Technically it wasn’t the best piece, that was quite clear to Suzanne’s trained eye, but there was a liveliness to the sculpture that drew the gaze, and Suzanne knew that was a hard quality for a professional to pull off, let alone a corn farmer from Credence whose last work of art had apparently been a scarecrow.

Simone shook Chuck’s and Denise’s hands as she congratulated them. “We’re utterly impressed, aren’t we, darling?” she said, smiling at Albie, who nodded enthusiastically, his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’d like to send you a little something as a prize, so I’ll grab your address before we leave Credence and get it sent to you in the New Year.”

“Oh…thank you,” Denise said.

The poor woman seemed totally starstruck, and Suzanne swore she was about to curtsy. It was a generous offer from her mom, who would no doubt send one of her smaller pieces she regarded as seconds. In the eyes of Simone St. Michelle, they weren’t good enough—but in the eyes of the art world, they were still exquisite quality and worth a lot of money.