“It kind of looks like a bird’s nest,” Summer said, tilting her head and trying to see the good.
“More like a glitter sparkle bird that exploded,” Jemma clarified.
I followed Savilla’s eyes around the room to the other teams and the headpieces they’d created. Each was tasteful; some weredownright gorgeous, like something you’d see on the cover of a bridal magazine.
“They cheated, of course,” Savilla said, waving away the other designs. “It’s fine. The important thing is that we bonded. Right, ladies?”
Summer nodded, happy to be there. Jemma rolled her eyes.
“In just a moment I’d like to invite the team member who wasn’t blindfolded to the front to model your group’s unique fashion piece. And remember, ladies…” Lacy’s eyes darted to me. “Our three judges are watching! The centennial is a special contest this year, and the Four Cs are the pillars of this pageant.”
Lacy held up one finger at a time as voices swelled in the room.
“Confidence!”
“Comportment!”
“Conversation!”
Lacy held up three fingers and spoke before the crowd could name the final C. “We all know the last C is ‘costumes’, and now you have these fabulous headpieces to show off as part of your attire. So, without delay, I’d like to invite our models to the stage to show off your teams’ designs,” she exclaimed.
Enthusiastic applause swept across the ballroom.
I tried to keep my voice low as I pleaded with my group. “I can’t go up there.”
What I didn’t add was this: People—complete strangers—would be looking at me. Only me. And I wouldn’t be doing anything worthwhile like barrel racing or even cantering. I’d be standing there, wearing a monstrosity. Oh God. My tongue was parched, and a tickle had begun on the back of my tongue.
“But ours looks so good,” Jemma said, pouting her lips like she actually believed the lie.
“You’re fine.” Savilla gave me an encouraging push forward. “You better get used to it if you want first place.”
“No, really,” I nearly cried, my hands growing clammy. “I just couldn’t possibly…” I turned toward Summer. “Please. Would you do the honors?”
“You’ll be perfect,” Summer told me, the words so lilting and musical that I would’ve believed her if my cheeks weren’t already hot. “And anyway, now you have a hat—kind of.”
Savilla plopped the creation on top of my head and pushed me toward the stage. Somehow my legs carried me.I swallowed back my fear. All I needed to do was walk across the stage. It would be good practice for the real deal in three days’ time.
I waited in line, watching women glide down the runway. They were poised and beautiful and graceful while I was… something else.
When Lacy called my name, I could sense apprehension in her tone.
I reminded myself that I needed to do my duty for Momma, for my future, for the money, and even for the one or two allies I’d already made. I held my head high, put one foot in front of the other, and fixed my eyes on a point at the back door, my only means of escape. This was almost over, and I hadn’t yet tripped or collapsed or humiliated myself.
As I reached the end of the stage, a familiar figure slipped into the ballroom: Glenda Finch, blanched white, her eyes as round as saucers and her mouth downturned. She looked in my direction but she didn’t really see me this time, as if a hazy veil had been lowered across her brow. No one else seemed to notice her presence, but her cloudy expression concerned me.
When I stopped midstride, everyone’s eyes followed mine to where she stood. Savilla’s stepmother and wife to the owner of the Rose Palace Pageant walked into the center of the room, issued a small cry, and fainted dead away.
Savilla rushed to kneel beside her as I spotted a disheveled Aunt DeeDee hurrying into the ballroom, followed by SheriffStrong. The expressions on both of their faces told me that something was very wrong.
The arrangement on my head fell and splattered onto the stage.
NINE
“Forgive my crumpled state,” Aunt DeeDee said as she found me in the glittering lights of the ballroom. She slid a hand across her periwinkle pants suit, the wrinkles very out of place in this grand setting. Then she took my arm and pulled me into a hug. “You, though, look fabulous despite the jeans.”
“Where have you been?” I asked, both relieved to see she hadn’t lost her normal focus and frustrated that she’d gone AWOL.
“I was out at the back of the property, getting something for the tent displays, and then I was in my office when the police arrived and…” She shook off the question. “I lost track of time. It doesn’t matter.”
