“I thought I saw your Buick out there, Lulu, as I was driving by on my motorcycle. Find anything fun to buy?” Cherry brought her eyebrows together in a ferocious frown as she looked doubtfully at the merchandise on the racks. She was holding her motorcycle helmet, which had a picture of her first love, Elvis, on it. The helmet was usually either sitting on Cherry’s head or very close by. Cherry swore it kept her safe throughout the day and that Elvis acted as her guardian angel.
Lulu chuckled. Unless Dee Dee had radically changed her buying practices, she doubted she was going to stock any wildly patterned, vibrantly colored minidresses. And that was the kind of look that Cherry went for.
But to her surprise, Cherry absently put her helmet back on her head and started pushing through clothes on the racks. She gave a gusty sigh. “I think I’ll shop. Shopping always cheers me up a little.” Cherry looked sideways through her fake lashes at Lulu, prompting her to inquire further.
“Something happen, Cherry?”
Cherry looked stormy. “That troll Tristan happened. I saw her leaving the shop as I was about to come in. Remember how I’m trying to join the Memphis Women’s League?”
Lulu nodded slowly. “I think so. Although I don’t remember
why
you are.” She simply couldn’t picture Cherry Hayes eating crustless cucumber sandwiches with a bunch of ladies who formed the elite in Memphis society.
“At first it was because Evelyn has always talked about how great the club was,” said Cherry, mentioning their mutual friend. “So my neighbor Pepper and I decided we wanted to be part of the fun, too. But
now
I want to do it because they’re so determined to keep me out.” Cherry absently took a blouse off the rack, pulled a horrified face, and put it back up. “Actually, the only one who’s blackballing Pepper and me is Tristan.”
Lulu leaned in a little, since Dee Dee looked like her ears had pricked up. “How’d you learn that?” she asked in a low voice, thinking Cherry might take the hint and speak a little quieter.
Cherry wasn’t one to take hints, though. “I’ll tell you how I heard,” she said. “Evelyn told me all about it. Said that Tristan suddenly acted like she was a blue blood and was all hoity-toity about membership. ‘Cherry and Pepper aren’t the kind of candidates we’re looking for.
Indeed
, I cannot envision the future of the Memphis Women’s League with Cherry and Pepper as part of it.’ ” Cherry pretended to sip from an imaginary teacup, with her pinky stuck way out like she was having high tea.
Lulu heard Dee Dee snicker, and Cherry spun around and stared her down, eyes narrowed. Dee Dee suddenly got real busy with her paperwork.
“And then, you know, I saw her when I was parking my bike. So I said to Tristan, ‘Hey,
thanks
for inviting Pepper and me into your club.’ You know, really sarcastic. But I think Tristan’s dumb as a post. So she says, ‘
I
didn’t invite you, Cherry. Or Pepper, either.’ Just real hostile.” Cherry looked glum that her efforts at sarcasm had been wasted. “All those years in beauty pageants must’ve fried her brain.”
Lulu nodded. “That’s right—I’d forgotten she’d been involved in pageants. Magnolia Queen?”
Dee Dee bellowed from across the room, “Magnolia Queen, Azalea Queen, Barbeque Queen. That was all back in the day. Now she coaches contestants and judges pageants.”
Ah, thought Lulu. She’d forgotten Tristan’s connection to the pageant world. Some of her conversation with Dee Dee was starting to make sense.
Cherry quickly blushed a shade of red that matched her hair. “Oops. Sorry, Lulu. I’ve got foot-in-mouth disease. I forgot that your granddaughter is in pageants.”
Lulu chuckled. “I’d forgotten Coco is, too! Don’t worry about it. I know you weren’t talking about Coco.”
Dee Dee perked up over at the register. “Lulu,” she called loudly, “be sure to send Coco over my way if she needs a special dress for a competition. I’ve got a few little-girl dresses that would be the perfect thing.”
There was nothing wrong with
Dee Dee’s
hearing, thought Lulu sourly. She’d been honing in on their conversation the whole time.
Cherry sighed again. “Okay, I think I’m done here. Shopping’s not helping me forget my troubles this time. Or maybe,” and this time her voice did drop a little, “I need to go to the Hipster Honey store and find some cute clothes.”
Lulu said, “Cherry? Just forget all about this Memphis Women’s League bull. It’s not worth the aggravation.”
“Darn straight it’s not!” said Cherry, hotly. “Just the same, though, Tristan Pembroke better watch her back. This brouhaha ain’t over yet.”
Chapter 2
Lulu relaxed as she walked in the door of Aunt Pat’s. Just walking in from Beale Street and seeing the familiar wooden booths, red-checkered tablecloths, and paper-towel rolls on the tables made her blood pressure go down. The walls were covered with photographs and framed family memorabilia—which made Lulu feel like she was surrounded by family at all times. She loved, in particular, being greeted by a black-and-white photo of her dear aunt Pat. With her eyes twinkling and mouth pulled into a gentle smile, she looked like she could pop right out of the photograph and visit with her.
Colleen Bannister walked into Aunt Pat’s to give Coco a ride to a pageant, since Lulu’s daughter-in-law, Sara, had to stay at the restaurant to work, and Colleen had to go with her daughter, Pansy, anyway. It was a wonder, thought Lulu, that Colleen’s hair could actually fit under the door frame. It was truly a work of fine art and sprayed within an inch of its life. And the amount of makeup that Colleen slathered on her face was probably enough to beautify three different women. You could see, though, where Pansy got her beauty-pageant looks from. Colleen was divorced, and Lulu was always surprised she wasn’t dating anyone.
Sara stuck her head out of the back office and peeped about; seeing Colleen, she hurried over. “She’s almost ready, Colleen. I’m sorry it’s taking Coco so long today. She was showing off her new pageant shoes to some customers, and I think she somehow
lost
one of them.”
“Oh, it’s fine—I’m not in any hurry. I’ll just have a little something to eat while we wait. I was feeling a little hungry, anyway.”
Colleen sat down at a table and ordered a couple of side orders and a drink. Sara and Lulu sat down to join her and watched in alarm as Colleen abruptly burst into loud sobbing.
“She hates her,” said Colleen as she carefully dabbed a tissue under her eyes to keep her copious mascara from streaming down her cheeks. “Tristan Pembroke
hates
Pansy!”
Lulu Taylor gave Colleen a big hug. “Now, honey, you know that your Pansy is the prettiest thing in Memphis! And the sweetest. I’m sure nobody could hate her.”
“Then why does Pansy never win any pageant that Tristan judges?”
Lulu’s attempt at comfort went wildly askew, as her efforts only seemed to make the tide of mascara rivulets come faster.
Sara said glumly, “If Tristan hates Pansy, she must hate Coco, too. I’ve noticed a similar pattern when Tristan is one of the judges at Coco’s pageants.”
“Besides, just because Tristan is always at these beauty pageants doesn’t mean that she’s causing our girls to lose,” said Lulu.
Colleen held out a perfectly manicured, moisturized hand to Lulu. “Wanna bet? I’ll even shake on it, Lulu. I’m good friends with another one of the judges. And she has
had
it with Tristan. Says that she throws her weight around with the other judges and threatens to get them kicked off the circuit if they don’t go along with her voting.”
Lulu shook her head in confusion until the little bun of white hair at the top of her head wobbled back and forth. “But
why
? What could Tristan possibly have against Pansy or Coco?”
Sara said, “She’s just bitter because her own daughter wasn’t pageant material. Like it even
matters
,” said Sara, tapping her glass of sweet tea on the table. “We don’t even take it seriously.”
But Lulu noticed that Sara sounded more like she was trying to persuade
Colleen
that they didn’t take it personally.
Colleen pursed her ruby-lipsticked lips. “Sara Taylor, you know that Pansy and I are not competing for
fun
. We’re competing to
win
. Nothing makes that girl happier than having one of those ten-story crowns on her head, all glitzy and shiny, and everyone standing up and cheering themselves hoarse. And she’s worked on her talent until she’s one of the best fiddle players in Memphis—and I’m including the adults. And she has lots of other talents, too. You should hear her do impersonations of people. And her dance routine is absolutely amazing—everyone says so.”
Sara looked doubtful. “You’re not turning into one of those stage mamas, are you? The kind we’re always laughing at for putting fake teeth in when their little precious has lost a front tooth?”
“They’re called flippers, not fake teeth,” said Colleen in a put-out voice. “And if they’d been around eight years ago when Pansy first started out, you better believe I’d have stuck them in her mouth fast as lightning.”
Sara looked thoughtful as she wound a long strand of curly red hair around her finger. “I never went the pageant route myself, of course,” said Sara, making a face. “But Coco just seemed so interested and kept asking to do it. So I finally gave in and said yes.”
Colleen said sweetly, “Well, you
could
have done pageants when you were little—you’re definitely pageant material, hon.”
Sara made a face. “Well, it’s nice of you to say so. But with my big bones, I was definitely not designed with pageants in mind. But Coco is.”
“I’ll say she is,” said Colleen enthusiastically. “She has the most darling little face, with dimples and that thousand-watt smile. She’s that natural blond that the judges just love. And you can tell by watching her sing that she’s loving every minute of it—and she has the sweetest little voice I think I’ve ever heard come from a nine-year-old.”
Sara said, “I’m glad you can tell she’s having fun. Because if she wasn’t having fun, there wouldn’t be any point at all.”
“But there
is
a point to it, Sara. College scholarships. We simply don’t have the money to put Pansy in school. Even a state school! That’s the kind of thing you need to be thinking about, Sara. Think about the scholarships that Coco could be getting, and get a little more competitive.”
Sara ran a hand through her riotous red spiraled curls. “She’s only nine years old, Colleen!”
“Financial planners say that it’s never too early to plan for your child’s education.”
Although, thought Lulu, she doubted that beauty-pageant earnings were the planners’ recommended savings route.
“Besides,” said Colleen, “you get just as anxious during the pageants as I do, Sara. I’ve seen you strung tight like a bow. The only reason you’re not kicking up a fuss about Tristan ruining Coco’s chances at pageant wins is because she’s showing your art at her benefit-auction party this weekend.”
Sara said, “That’s not true. I’ve never gotten into the pageant world like you have. It’s one of those things that I sort of tolerate.”
“Well, mark my words, y’all. If Tristan Pembroke gets any whiff of your passion for art—if you let on that it’s more than a way to kill time—then you’re in trouble. She’s the kind of person who loves to crush your dreams. And she’ll just stomp right on your art if you let her.”
Lulu said quickly, “Sara knows not to listen to criticism. She’s run into that kind of thing before and knows how to ignore it. Besides, y’all, maybe we should change the subject before Steffi comes out here.”
Colleen froze, a forkful of coleslaw halfway to her mouth. “Steffi? Not Steffi Pembroke?”
Lulu straightened the checkered tablecloth. “The very one.”
“You mean to tell me that Tristan’s daughter is working here? As a waitress?” Colleen’s stage whisper projected across the Aunt Pat’s dining hall.
Lulu nodded.
Sara’s jaw had dropped a little. “When did this happen, Lulu? I worked the lunch shift, and she wasn’t here then.”
“I got her set up with her apron a few minutes ago. You see,” said Lulu in a low voice, “we could definitely use another waitress. You know how crazy Aunt Pat’s gets in the evenings when the bands start playing. Having another waitress will really help us out. And—well, she asked me for some help. She had a fight with her mama, and she’s kicked her out of the house. Tristan even threatened to write the poor girl out of her will. I know she graduated from college a few months ago, and waitressing wasn’t exactly at the top of her job-hunting list.”
Sara shrugged. “It’s a job, though. And it brings money in on a pretty regular basis. Sounds to me like that’s what she needed if she didn’t have a place to stay. Hush. . . . She’s coming up.”
Steffi, thought Lulu, looked absolutely nothing like her immaculately groomed, still gorgeous mother. But, thankfully, she had none of her mama’s hateful ways, either. Lulu always had the feeling that Tristan Pembroke had taken it as a personal affront that her daughter hadn’t inherited her beauty. Steffi was nobody’s pretty child, with her double chins, pasty complexion, and lifeless hair. But her personality drew you right in . . . especially the way she stood up to her ruthless mother time after time.
Steffi said, “Lulu, I wonder if I’ll ever get the hang of this. I didn’t realize how clumsy I was until I tried balancing a tray of food. Everything keeps sloshing into everything else!”
“You’ll get used to it,” said Lulu with a laugh. “Just give yourself some time.”
Steffi turned to Sara. “Sorry I didn’t mention to you when I saw you at Mother’s that I was going to start waitressing here. But I didn’t actually know, myself, at the time.” She made a face.
Sara shook her head, a smile spreading over her good-natured freckled face. “Don’t worry about it, Steffi. Lulu was telling us it was an all-of-a-sudden kind of thing.”