In San Justo, a gritty Buenos Aires suburb of more than 1 million people, the voters crying "Cristina! Cristina!" at one of her final rallies besieged her with hand-scrawled messages on slips of paper, pleading for jobs, better schools, better roads.

Some asked for electricity and running water—basics still lacking in the trash-strewn shantytowns that circle the capital five years after an economic meltdown hobbled Argentina.

Fernandez took the notes and handed them to aides, and she made no immediate promises. Yet people seem to believe she will respond.

To win Sunday without going to a runoff, Fernandez must get either 45 percent of the vote or 40 percent with at least a 10-percent lead over her closest rival. Polls indicate the 54-year-old first lady and three-term senator very well could achieve that.

The most prominent, released Friday by Poliarquia Consultores, suggested Fernandez would get 42 percent, compared with 17 percent for center-left candidate Elisa Carrio and 12 percent for the centrist former economy minister, Roberto Lavagna. The poll had a margin of error of 2.1 percentage points.

Fernandez hasn't participated in a single debate, and didn't grant an interview with Argentine news media until a day before closing her campaign—instead sticking to carefully scripted events without much opportunity for questions.

In an interview with a pro-government journalist broadcast Wednesday on La Red radio, Fernandez didn't announce any specific proposals and brushed off comparisons to Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.

"Hillary and I have few things in common: We've both been senators, lawyers, and wives of presidents, but not much else," Fernandez said.

"I don't want to be compared with Hillary Clinton, nor with (former Argentine first lady) Evita Peron, nor with anybody," she added. "There's nothing better than being yourself."

The next president will take office Dec. 10 with challenges that pale in comparison to what Fernandez's husband, Nestor Kirchner, faced when he began his term in 2003: the $100 billion debt default had wiped out two-thirds of the savings of most Argentines overnight.

Kirchner helped Argentina rebound from that crisis, and his popularity surged above 60 percent. But 8 percent annual growth rates, the envy of Latin America, have begun to cool—and so have his numbers.

Now, though emerging from the crisis, fiercely proud Argentines are coping with the harsh reality that a quarter of their 39 million people still live below the poverty line. They're also suffering from high inflation, a simmering energy crisis and a still-lagging investment climate.

"There are great challenges ahead for the next government," said sociologist Doris Capurro. "While the economic situation of most people is better, that hasn't brought with it a sense of well-being."

Crime—bank heists, street shootouts and house invasions—is eating away at Argentina's all-night cafe life and making neighbors reluctant to chat outside locked doors. Many complain the government is too soft on the criminals.

And with electricity and gasoline prices all but frozen since 2001, many see an energy crisis coming when Argentines fire up their air conditioners in the Southern Hemisphere summer.

Foreign investors remain wary of investing in Argentina, despite its economic recovery. In a report this month, a prominent group of Argentine economists estimated their country was losing $6 billion a year in potential foreign investment because of a lack of confidence.

Inflation has become a major political problem—though just how bad it is remains unclear. The government reports it at 8.6 percent a year, but independent economists say it's almost double that, and many people believe the Kirchner administration has manipulated the consumer price index to make the economy look better than it is.

On the energy front, Fernandez has signaled she will put more power plants online and continue her husband's close alliances with socialist President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela—a source of petrodollar largesse—and with leftist Evo Morales of Bolivia, which exports natural gas to Argentina.

She promises clear differences from her husband's presidency—"Change is just beginning" is her slogan—but exactly what those are remains unclear. She speaks vaguely of creating more jobs, strengthening democratic institutions and financing new schools, hospitals and highways.

Despite the lack of specifics, voters who appreciate her husband's achievements appear ready to give her a chance.

"The inflation is real," said street sweeper Manuel Villareal. "But today we are a little better off. Ever since this government took power, we aren't doing as badly."