“Excuse me?” I hear the warning in his tone.
Silas straightens his spine and faces his father, trying to keep me out of his father’s line of fire. “This is not the time nor the place to discuss this. We can talk next week, but frankly, the financials of either of my businesses are none of your concern.”
The implication is clear: I’m a successful business owner and you look like an idiot to question a grown man. I just about have to tuck my hands in my pockets to keep from clapping to hear Silas stand up to his father.
“Your mother’s legacy was?—”
“Left tome. In her will.” Silas’s voice is low, but his tone sends a chill down my overheated back.
I hear the music change again and I know it’s almost time for our models to do their thing on the catwalk. Silas should be seeing this. I lean around Silas.
“You’re more than welcome to keep yelling about nonsense, Mr. Winthrop. Everyone in town knows the boutique is thriving.” I toss my hair like I saw those college girls doing this morning and give Mr. Winthrop the brightest smile my facial muscles can muster. “It must be such a relief to be so…unburdened…by logic. But right now, Silas needs to be watching his models on the catwalk.”
Silas uses that opportunity to turn us around and starts maneuvering our way through the crowd. Away from his father.
But I find myself not quite done with this asshole. I twist my neck and call over my shoulder. “Wait ’til you hear the way the crowd cheers for your son!”
His father’s scowl is one for the record books.
The thrill of telling off his father fades with each step. I worry I overstepped, but the second we find a shady spot to watch the models displaying our clothes, Silas puts his hand on mine.
“Thank you,” he says simply, not looking at me.
I snuggle a little closer to his side, even though it’s still hotter than blazes outside and I’m pretty sure I’m going to ruin this dress by sweating right through it.
We watch our models strut their stuff, and while the boutique’s not mine, I have a sense of pride that threatens to overwhelm me. More than one of our models has a baby or toddler by their side. The Battle of the Boutiques ends with all the models from each boutique filling the catwalk and waving to their friends and family.
“You want to get up there?” Silas asks me.
“Nah, I’m good right here.”
The mayor walks back out and asks the crowd to use their cheering to show which boutique they think won the battle.He stands by Deuce’s dapper models and the crowd is loud. I look around, thinking there’s no way they could get any louder. The mayor then heads for Darby Kate and she gets the same applause plus some wolf whistles from the old men who got bussed here from the senior facility on the edge of town. Silas laughs, which is a good sign his father didn’t ruin his day.
The mayor then heads for Mary London. The crowd is downright crazy for the college girls, and I can see why. They’re gorgeous both inside and out, vibrating with such good energy it’s contagious. Pretty sure that’s Deuce leading the wolf whistles this time. Last but not least, the mayor heads for our models, the mothers of Heaven, Mississippi.
The crowd absolutely loses their shit. The kids are rowdy, husbands are wolf whistling, and several of the moms curtsy and ham it up for the crowd. The mayor swipes his forehead with a handkerchief and gets back on the microphone.
“We have ourselves a winner! For the inaugural Battle of the Boutiques, our big Heaven, Mississippi, winner is Harp and Hemline! Get on up here, Silas Winthrop!”
I’m jumping up and down in the grass, so excited and proud of Silas—and partly myself—that I have hot tears prickling the back of my eyes. Silas gives me a lopsided grin and then bounds up onto the catwalk. The man doesn’t even need the stairs. He joins the mayor, who hands him some kind of certificate, which Silas holds up in the air. I snap a photo of him, with plans formulating in my head to blow the picture up and tape it to his father’s windshield.
The mayor hands Silas the microphone. He waits until the cheers die down and then he’s his charming self.
“Thank you, Heaven. As you know, Harp and Hemline was my late mother’s brainchild. Good fashion was her passion. She often told me that most women don’t even know who they are or how they want to dress until they reach middle age, and that’swhere she came in.” His voice catches and he has to clear his throat to continue. “I’m proud to continue her legacy, providing all the fashion pieces you ladies love, but certainly don’t need, to be the finest women in the whole South!”
The crowd cheers again and Silas only speaks when it starts to die down again. “Could I have all the boutique owners up here?” He waits for Mary London, Deuce, and Darby Kate to join him on the stage. “I couldn’t have won this prestigious honor without these three upstanding business owners right here. Let’s give it up one last time for the boutiques of Heaven!”
As the cheers finally settle down and people begin to pick up their things, Silas adds one last thing before handing over the microphone.
“The boutiques are open right now if you want to buy any of the items you just saw.”
I put my phone away, certain I got at least a dozen great photos, and turn to head for Harp and Hemline to open the place back up and get that cash register dinging. I want to maximize sales as much as possible because as much as I can’t stand him, Mr. Winthrop is not wrong. I know Silas maxed out his credit card to buy those racks of clothes wholesale.
“Betsy Mae!”
I hear Silas calling from behind me. I turn, darting around various adults and kids to find him. He’s cutting through the crowd, hollering my name and garnering all kinds of attention. His face is lit up with the kind of smile money can’t buy. His blue eyes are sparkling with pride. That line between his eyebrows, the one his father put there earlier, is gone.
Just before he reaches me, he has to push a rowdy teenager out of the way, and then he’s there, his arms wrapping around my waist and lifting me off the ground. The next thing I know, the Square is spinning around in a circle and I’m caught up in Silas’s happiness. Giddy laughter flows between us and we’reboth breathless by the time he puts me down. I know we’ve created a scene and I can’t seem to find one bit of me that cares.
