Last Chance Beauty Queen (26 page)

“Dr. LaFlore, I’m very tight on cash. I would have to seek additional financing, which I might need in any case because of the swampland. Additional financing is not easy to come by.”

“No, it’s not. But perhaps we can help find you some. I would like to help deliver your factory to my constituents.” The future mayor of Last Chance gave him a big American smile filled with very white teeth.

Haley sat in the backseat of Granny’s van as Granddaddy pulled up to the curb outside Miz Bray’s house. Granddaddy was supposed to be taking Haley to the fairgrounds, where they were going to get dinner and ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl, but Granddaddy said he needed to stop and take care of some business first.

Miz Bray’s house stood on the edge of town and had a really big front yard. The pink and yellow and purple flowers in Miz Bray’s yard were real pretty. Folks said she had the prettiest yard in all of Allenberg County.

Granddaddy stopped the car and then turned in his seat. “You stay put, punkin’. This won’t take a minute, and then I’ll take you twice on the Tilt-A-Whirl.”

Granddaddy got out of the car, and the Sorrowful Angel got out with him. A shiver of something not good took hold of Haley. The Sorrowful Angel had been mad the last few days. She’d stopped crying, but she’d started grumbling. Every once in a while, the angel said a bad word or two.

Miz Bray came to the door, and Granddaddy started talking to her right there on the porch. Haley couldn’t hear what Granddaddy was saying, but she got the feeling—mostly by the way he took off his hat and started slamming it into his hand—that he was not happy.

This made Haley feel kind of warm inside. Granddaddy really loved her, in spite of the fact that she could see the Sorrowful Angel.

Miz Bray slammed her front door in Granddaddy’s face. And then things got out of hand.

Haley should have known something bad would happen the minute the Sorrowful Angel got out of the car and
followed Granddaddy to the porch. The angel let go of a shriek that hurt Haley’s ears, and then…

Well, then she took after Miz Bray’s flowers. She started pulling them up—the tall spiky ones that grew along the porch. And after she pulled them out of the ground, the angel threw them, roots and all, at Miz Bray’s front window. Granddaddy just stood there and let it happen.

When the Sorowful Angel had finished pulling up all of Miz Bray’s flowers, the front door to the house opened again. Miz Bray came out with a broom that she took to Granddaddy’s head. He fended it off and took the broom from her. Then he used it to give Miz Bray a swat across her broad behind. Granddaddy knocked Miz Bray right off her feet. She landed right in the middle of her messed-up flowerbed.

Granddaddy and the angel hightailed it back to the car before Miz Bray could get up. Granddaddy started the car up, and they got going. Then he tilted the rearview mirror and gave Haley a long, funny look. “Little gal, we’re not going to tell a soul about what just happened, are we?”

“No sir.”

Haley was no dummy.

H
ugh studied Cissy Warren as she guided her cherry red Corvette down Palmetto Avenue, heading toward Miriam Randall’s boardinghouse. She was thin and well dressed and definitely knew how to air-kiss.

Granddad would have adored her.

Hugh, not so much.

He was exhausted. His meetings with individual members of the town council had made him increasingly uncomfortable.

He wanted his factory. But he didn’t want to be a villain. It wasn’t fair to force Elbert Rhodes off his land.

Cissy turned into Miriam’s drive. “Look, Hugh,” Cissy said as she killed the engine, “if you don’t want to go for it on this whole condemnation thing, then you should cut your losses and rethink.”

“Rethink in what way?”

“Well,” she said, reaching out and running her long fingernails across his cheek in a gesture that was supposed to be alluring, “first of all, I think you should go
get your things. Then we should drive back to Columbia and find a nice restaurant and a good hotel for you.”

“Are you propositioning me?”

She giggled. “In a way, yes.”

“Well I—”

“No, listen.” She pressed her finger against his lips. He didn’t really like being silenced that way.

“You want to build this factory and make your loom, right?” she said. “But you don’t have the money to get the job done. The fact is, even if they condemn that piece of land, you’d be hard pressed to find the money to build the road and deal with the swamp. You are undercapitalized. You are going to fail.”

Anger bubbled down in his gut. He’d heard this before. So many times, on so many things. “How do you know I’m going to fail?” He bit off the words, momentarily losing his cool.

“Because I’ve taken a look at your personal balance sheet.”

“Right. Caroline told me all about that. Did you put a private investigator on my trail?”

“Yes, I did. And don’t look like that. A woman like me has to be careful. I know you’re underfunded. And I know you’re considering marriage to a woman whose only assets are her assets. But it’s okay, because you’re smart and classy. I like classy men. And I happen to be rich enough to afford you.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval,” he said, the sarcasm barely disguised.

“Don’t be angry. I had a feeling we weren’t going to get very far with these yokels today. Now you need to listen to me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because, dear Baron, we’re wasting our time here. Daddy’s taken a look at the specs for your loom, and he thinks you’re brilliant—as an inventor and engineer, not a businessman. Given that, it just makes sense for Warren Fabrics to buy your design. Then we would have exclusive rights to this technology, which is going to revolutionize textile manufacturing. We’d finance the production line. You could be in charge of that if you wanted. Or you could spend your time inventing the next big thing, which I imagine is what you’d rather do.”

Hugh stared at her for a long, tense moment. Cissy had just offered him the perfect solution. She’d even offered him an opportunity to get out of the business end of things and concentrate on what he loved the most—tinkering around with bits of machinery.

So why was he hesitating?

One single thought came to his mind—Caroline on Sunday morning talking about how she loved Last Chance and all of its citizens. Her passion had touched him. She wanted to save the chicken plant and find a way to build Hugh’s factory here, where it would matter to a bunch of ordinary people.

If he said yes to Cissy, the factory would go elsewhere. No doubt there would be people in the I-85 corridor who would welcome new jobs, but they wouldn’t be Caroline’s people.

He should say yes to Cissy. Caroline, herself, had suggested that Cissy was the solution to his problems.

But he couldn’t. For some reason, the people of Last Chance had gotten under his skin. Especially one particular senatorial aide.

“So what do you think?” Cissy asked, pressing her advantage.

“Can I think about it?”

“What’s to think about?”

“Well, I had set my heart on building an independent business. I would love to do business with Warren Fabrics, of course. And your offer is very generous, but I need to think it over.”

Cissy was, no doubt, used to getting her way, and the look she gave Hugh underscored that point. She was spoilt rotten. “That took balls,” she said.

“What? My wanting to do things on my own, or my wanting to think things over?”

“You have no money. You need me. You’re dreaming if you think you can do this on your own.”

“You are probably right about that. My grandfather always said I spent too much time with my head in the clouds. But that’s who I am, Cissy.” He opened the car door before she could vent any more anger at him.

“You’ll be sorry about this.”

Hugh ignored the venom in her words. “Thank you, Cissy. You’re quite generous, and I haven’t said no. I just want to think about it,” he said as mildly as he could.

“I don’t make offers like this twice.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m rather out of luck then.”

Cissy’s lip curled. It wasn’t a very attractive look on her. “Have it your way.” She turned the key and revved the Corvette’s motor. She yanked the gear lever, ground the clutch, and spun the tires as she backed out of the drive. It was a shame the way Cissy treated that beautiful piece of machinery.

“Well, don’t ya’ll look good enough to eat?” Aunt Arlene said as Caroline and Rachel reached the top row of the grandstand.

Arlene pulled off her oversized sunglasses and peered at them out of a pair of sherry-colored eyes that had been decorated with false eyelashes and green eye shadow.

Rachel looked much better after the intervention at the Cut ’n Curl. She wore a pair of daisy dukes that showed off her long-stemmed legs, a little red bandanna halter-top, and a brand-new, sassy layered hairdo.

Momma and Jane had really outdone themselves. Their flawless application of concealer hid all traces of Rachel’s spectacular crying jag.

Caroline wore her usual preppy summer outfit—a pair of navy madras Bermuda shorts, a white golf shirt, and a pair of espadrilles.

“Well,” Arlene said, zoning in on Caroline’s clothes, “let me amend that last remark. Rachel looks great. But Rocky, honey, you look like a refugee from a Hilton Head sailing regatta. If you’re going to wear madras like that, maybe you should think about pink. Pink is such a nice color on you.”

Caroline let the comment roll right off her back. After all, Momma had told her the same thing, right before her lecture about how Baron Woolham was not exactly the man Miriam had predicted for her.

Caroline had listened and nodded. Then she’d dropped her bombshell about the new job in Washington. She assured Momma that she was not interested in any kind of liaisons with English barons or regular Joes. Her entire purpose for being at the demolition derby tonight was to get Rachel hooked up with Bubba.

And if she had to kiss a pig—or Dash Randall—to get it done, she was prepared to make the sacrifice. Rachel had a thing for Bubba. Caroline wasn’t entirely comfortable with that, knowing Bubba as intimately as she did, but Caroline was not about to talk her best friend out of it.

Any woman who cried over Bubba Lockheart the way Rachel had was going to be good for him. And Bubba needed someone who cared enough to have a crying jag over him, because Caroline never had cared that much.

Caroline plopped down beside her aunt-by-marriage and studied the arena where the demolition derby was about to start. The fire department had brought in a couple of big pumpers and hosed the place down so that the entire area was now mired in a good six inches of red mud. The commingled scents of funnel cake and corn dogs filled the air.

“So, girls, I heard all about the Lasso Fiasco and its aftermath. Rachel, honey, I’d say you are dressed for action tonight. And let’s all pray that Bubba is smart enough to get it.”

Caroline turned toward her aunt. “You know, Arlene, it’s amazing how gossip travels in this county.”

Arlene put her sunglasses back on. “Faster than tweets on Twitter.”

“Since when do you tweet?”

“Since Alex bought me a new smart phone. If the church ladies ever catch on to texting, we’re all done for.” She chuckled at her own joke and took a couple of long-neck Buds from the cooler at her feet. She twisted off the tops.

“Here you go, girls. The beer is on me.”

Caroline took the Bud and pressed the cold bottle to her head.

“So speaking of gossip, everyone’s been talking about how that big ol’ strapping duke feller outbid Dash for you at the kissing booth. Course, depending on which version of the story you hear, the duke either got outsmarted by Dash, or Dash got outsmarted by the duke. Which way is it, sugar? I’m dying to know.”

“He’s only a baron, not a duke,” Caroline said then took a slug of beer. It was cold and refreshing.

“Duke, baron, whatever. C’mon, baby, Aunt Arlene wants to know all.”

“Well, there’s nothing to tell. Momma and Jane put me in that humiliating position because Dash lassoed me off the parade float and everyone misinterpreted that.”

“You know, Rocky, you could have explained the truth,” Rachel said.

“Right. And if I did that, then Bubba would have bid for me, not you.”

“And you would have avoided the gossip that’s running around as a result of you dancing barefooted with Lord Woolham into the wee hours,” Arlene said.

“We were just having fun. Since when can’t I have fun at the Watermelon Festival?” Caroline’s voice sounded really defensive, even to her own ears.

“Well, you have a point,” Arlene said, “and I can hardly blame you, if what they say about his kiss is true.”

She blushed.

“Uh-huh, it must be true,” Arlene said.

“Look, he’s a good kisser, okay?”

“You know, seeing as he’s here to force your daddy off his land, enjoying his kisses might not be a good move,” Arlene said.

“I know.” Caroline took another swig of beer.

“And besides, he hardly matches what Miriam predicted for you, does he?” Rachel said, getting her digs in.

Caroline nodded, but her mind kept running over the things Hugh had done over the last few days. He’d been surprisingly accurate with a wooden hoop and a baseball, winning her that stupid stuffed animal that still sat on her bed at Momma’s house. He’d won nearly every game he played.

And he’d talked to Daddy about the broken frogs down at Golfing for God like he actually knew how to fix them.

And he had a bunch of engineering degrees that he’d told her about.

And he had a blood blister on his thumb.

She thought about that blister and her insides melted. Damnit, he was not a regular guy.

He was just exceptionally talented at carnival games and juggling booze bottles. And he was kind and sweet to everyone he met. Even Lillian Bray loved him, despite the fact that he’d given another blue ribbon to Jenny Carpenter yesterday in the pie-baking contest.

He didn’t match the forecast. Did he? Maybe.

That was scary. She pushed it aside. It didn’t matter because Miriam had predicted that he’d end up with Victoria Ashton, heiress. Caroline just needed to remember that.