Last Chance Beauty Queen (3 page)

“Pop ’round? Really?”

“Those were his exact words. He’s like one of the dukes in those romance books you like so much. He’s arrogant and uppity and wants to get his way. He’s asked me to make accommodations for him and to schedule meetings with members of the town council.”

“You ought to put him up at the Peach Blossom Motor Court just for spite,” Momma said.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I can’t believe I said it either. Maybe we could send him into the swamp in a canoe without a paddle or mosquito spray.”

Caroline would have laughed if her head didn’t feel like it was exploding. “If I do that, Senator Warren will find out, and that would make the boss cranky.”

“Honey, you should quit.”

Caroline ignored that familiar refrain. “It gets worse. The senator wants to come and hang out with his Lordship in the reviewing stand for the Watermelon Festival parade. He’s going to bring his daughter, and you know what a snob Cissy is. Although to tell you the truth, Lord Woolham might give her a run for the money.”

Momma snorted.

“You’re not helping.” Caroline’s voice sounded whiny.

“Did you want my help?”

Caroline gritted her teeth. “Momma, I don’t really have a choice. The man’s going to come to Last Chance whether I bring him or not. So I figure the best thing is to bring him there, let him see the situation, and then convince him to relocate his factory someplace else. I was calling to let you know the situation.”

“I see.”

“And to ask for your advice. I really do need to find a decent place to stash the baron for the duration. It can’t be the Peach Blossom Motor Court. I was just thinking that maybe Miriam Randall could—”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Momma interrupted before Caroline could finish her sentence. “You know,” Momma continued, “if anyone can beat that English devil, it would be Miriam Randall. You sit tight and let me make a few phone calls. I’ll get back to you. And I’ll put fresh sheets on your bed. Are you planning to stay through the Watermelon Festival? Or is this another one of your quick trips?”

Just thinking about coming home during the Allenberg County Watermelon Festival made the pain in Caroline’s head redouble. Coming home meant running into Bubba Lockheart.

“I’ll be there over the weekend, at least, maybe a few days more. It depends on Lord Woolham and whether I can get him to see reason.”

“Really? Well, that’s something, isn’t it? It’s been a long time since you attended a Watermelon Festival.”

Caroline consciously unclenched her teeth and tried to relax. It was almost impossible. Coming home for the festival was the last thing she wanted to do. She had bad memories of her last Watermelon Festival, twelve years ago, when Bubba had proposed to her in front of everyone in the town.

She’d been all dressed up in her Watermelon Queen dress, with her hair all poufy and a tiara on her head. She’d been having a great time, until Bubba destroyed it.

She hadn’t handled the situation well. She’d opened her mouth and spoken in anger. She didn’t want to marry Bubba, but she sure wished she could take back the ugly things she’d said.

That moment with Bubba had changed her. And she’d learned her lesson. Now she held her tongue and tried very hard to always keep her cool.

But she had also avoided coming home during the festival. She may have learned from her mistake, but she didn’t want to come home every year and relive it.

Caroline pushed the awful memories out of her mind. “Momma, I really appreciate your help and understanding.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line and then Momma said, “So I reckon I’ll tell Dale Pontius to count you in for the parade float.”

Caroline sat up in her squeaky chair. Dale, a member of the Last Chance Town Council, had directed the
arrangements for the Watermelon Festival parade since cat was a kitten. “What float?” Caroline asked.

“The seventy-fifth anniversary float,” Momma said, confirming every single one of Caroline’s sudden fears. “Dale came up with this wonderful idea about inviting all the old Watermelon Queens who still live in the county to ride on it. Miriam and I are so excited about it. I even found my old costume, and would you believe it, it still fits. Rachel and Millie are making a pink and green pantsuit for Miriam. She’s the oldest living Watermelon Queen, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.” Stark, naked terror made Caroline’s hands go clammy.

Momma continued speaking. “I know exactly where your dress is. I’ll get it out and run it right down to the cleaners.”

“Momma, I can’t—”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you can.” Momma always said stuff like that. She didn’t believe anyone
couldn’t
do anything if they put their mind to it.

“Okay, Momma, I won’t. Besides, I have to be—”

“Honey, if you come to the festival and you don’t ride on Dale’s float, folks around here will talk. I don’t think you want that, do you? Especially after what happened the last time you wore that dress.”

“Momma, I have moved on in my life. Now, if only Bubba could do the same.”

“I’m not so sure you
have
moved on.”

Caroline was not about to rehash the Bubba situation. So she took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m coming home to do a job. I’m not going to put on that dress. You know good and well that it won’t help Bubba or me to
move on with our lives if I dress up like a Watermelon Queen again And besides, how is Lord Woolham going to take me seriously if he sees me in a dress like that? Really, Momma, I need to convince him to give up on Daddy’s land. For that I need to be professional, you know?”

“Well, I suppose there is some truth in that,” Momma admitted. “But you know how Dale gets this time of year. Once he hears you’re going to be in town, he’s going to want you riding on that float in your old dress.”

“Well, he can’t make me do it.”

“All right, sugar. I understand. So when can I expect you?”

“Tomorrow, late afternoon. His Lordship wants me to drive down with him so I can give him the whole briefing on the town. And I’m so
not
looking forward to that.”

“You know, sweetie, we’re not all that bad.”

“Momma, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was that Lord Woolham is going to look down on all of us. I hate people who do that.”

“So do I.” Momma paused a moment. “Well, I’m sure we can figure out some way to run him off. Believe you me, I can think of all kinds of ways to run off an Englishman. After all, my forebears did a real good job of running the British ragged in the swamps during the Revolution.”

Caroline made no comment. Momma, despite her liberal leanings, was eligible to join the DAR. Not even Hettie Marshall, the Queen Bee of Last Chance, could do that. Momma was sweet, but she sure did keep score when it counted.

The next morning, Haley Rhodes leaned on the table in Granny’s kitchen and peered under the lid of the cardboard box. Granny shooed her away. But then Granny lifted up the box lid and a big heap of fluffy green and pink material popped out. Granny pulled out the dress and gave it a shake.

It was the most beautifulest thing Haley had ever seen. It was pink on the top and had a whole bunch of skirts in fluffy layers, each of them a different color of green. In the bottom of the box sat a glittery tiara.

It was a Watermelon Queen dress, and when Haley grew up, she was going to be a Watermelon Queen. Being a queen ran in the family. Granny had been one. Aunt Rocky had been one. And Momma, who Haley couldn’t remember, had been a Watermelon Queen, too.

Lizzy, Haley’s big sister, said being a Watermelon Queen was dumb. She said it was demeaning to women. Haley didn’t know what the word “demeaning” meant, and she didn’t care. She was going to be queen one day.

“Isn’t that pretty?” Granny asked.

“Oh, yes,” said the Sorrowful Angel with a yearning that made something hitch in Haley’s chest.

Haley turned around and stared at the angel who was hovering in her usual space right by the broom closet in Granny’s kitchen. The Sorrowful Angel had been with Haley for a long, long time. In all that time, she had never said a single word before. Mostly she wailed and wept, especially at night.

“Sugar, what’s the matter?” Granny asked.

“The angel just talked to me. She’s never done that before.”

Granny looked down at Haley with that look grown-ups
sometimes got whenever the angel was mentioned. Like a lot of grown-ups, Granny was starting to lose her faith in the Sorrowful Angel. Haley knew it was hard to believe in something that you couldn’t see.

Most folks thought there was something wrong about seeing angels, even though the people in the Bible saw angels all the time. Even Haley’s daddy thought it was bad to see angels. Daddy made Haley visit a special doctor two times a week—even in the summertime—all because she could see the angel.

Dr. Newsome was supposed to fix people who saw things that weren’t really there. But Dr. Newsome would never fix Haley because her angel was real. Just ’cause no one but Haley could see the angel didn’t mean the angel wasn’t real.

And that meant that Haley was going to have to go see Dr. Newsome for the rest of her life, if she couldn’t figure out a way to get the angel to go back to Heaven.

“What did the angel say?” Granny asked.

“She said the dress was pretty.” Haley tilted her head and squinted up at the angel. “Granny, I don’t think the angel agrees with Lizzy.”

Granny chuckled. “Honey, I don’t think many folks in this town agree with Lizzy.”

“Well, when I grow up, I’m going to be a Watermelon Queen, just like my momma was, even if Lizzy thinks it’s stupid.”

Grown-ups got a look on their face whenever Haley talked about Momma, too. Momma was with Jesus and had been ever since Haley was two years old. Momma and Haley had been in a big car wreck, but only Momma went to be with Jesus.

“Granny, do you still have my momma’s dress?” Haley asked.

“I don’t know, honey. She was living with her own momma when she was a queen. Your daddy might have the dress up in his attic, though. Oh my, but she was so beautiful.” Granny ran her hands down over the top of Haley’s head. “With honey blond hair, just like yours. I declare your daddy was so smitten with her the day of the parade. He was just eighteen.”

“And he stole her away in the night, after the barbecue, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And she got married wearing her dress, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did. Nearly ’bout surprised everyone in town when those two came back in the morning.”

“I want to be a Watermelon Queen and get married in my pretty pink and green dress.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see how you feel about it when you’re older.”

“You mean I have to decide if being a queen is demeaning.” Haley frowned. “What does that mean anyway?”

Granny laughed. “I have no idea.”

“Momma didn’t think she was being demeaning, did she? I mean when Daddy ran off with her.”

“No, sugar, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure she loved your daddy like life itself. As far as I know, your momma was the only Watermelon Queen who ever got married in her queen dress.”

“But Bubba Lockheart asked Aunt Rocky to marry him the night of the watermelon parade, didn’t he?”

Granny shook her head. “I do declare, Haley Ann Rhodes, you know the story better than I do.”

“And Aunt Rocky was ugly to him and that’s why Bubba spends too much time at Dot’s Spot, right?”

“Who did you hear that from, young lady?”

“Miz Bray says that all the time. I know you’ve heard her say it.”

“Yes, I have. But it’s not something you should repeat, do you understand?”

“But Bubba loved Aunt Rocky.”

“Not like your momma and daddy,” said the angel.

Haley turned again toward the broom closet. The Sorrowful Angel was looking sad again. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Did she speak again?” Granny asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did she say?”

“That Bubba and Aunt Rocky weren’t like my momma and daddy.”

Granny chuckled a little. “Well, then, she’s a well-informed angel in addition to being a sorrowful one.”

Rachel Polk closed the file she’d been reading. Sick worry nestled down in her gut as she got up from her desk and hurried into the workroom. She quickly photocopied the entire contents of the file and then returned it to Mr. Marshall’s desk, where the darned fool had left it, right out in the open.

The file detailed how Country Pride Chicken was not fully compliant with the state’s health and safety codes.

Rachel had suspected that her employer was cutting corners. But it was infuriating to see it written down that
way and left out, while her idiot boss went off to play golf with his country club friends—something he did at least three times a week.

If Mr. Marshall didn’t do something quick to fix these problems, the state might close the plant down. And then Rachel would be out of a job. Heck, half the town would be out of a job.

Rachel sat there staring at the papers on her desk, paralyzed by fear and indecision. What was she going to do? She ought to blow the whistle. But if she did that, everyone might have to go on unemployment.

Just then, her cell phone rang. She checked the caller ID. It was Rocky. Rachel thanked the Almighty for the diversion.

“Hey, what’s up?” Rachel said.

“I’m coming home for a few days,” Rocky replied.

“During the Watermelon Festival? Really?”

Rachel knew good and well that if Rocky came home at festival time, Bubba would go into a tailspin. Not that it would be Rocky’s fault if that happened, but everyone would blame her. And Rachel would be caught right in the middle.

Like she always was.

Like she was caught in the middle of her life.

“Yeah, can you believe it? I haven’t been home for a Watermelon Festival since I was eighteen. But I don’t have a choice. This snotty English baron wants to buy Daddy’s golf course so he can put up a textile machinery factory. The senator wants me to show him around town.”

“Wow. Does your momma know this?”

“Yeah, she does. Momma’s ready to organize a canoe trip for his Lordship right into gator-infested swampland.”