Last Chance Beauty Queen (Last Chance #3)(3)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Momma and everyone in Last Chance had always called Caroline Rocky because her first name was Sirocco and she had three brothers named Stone, Clay, and Tulane. Losing her quirky name was part of Caroline’s makeover. A senator’s aide didn’t need a name like Rocky Rhodes. A senator’s aide wanted a plain name that was easy to spell. Of course, no one in Last Chance ever called her Caroline.

She clutched the phone and squeezed her eyes shut. “Momma, I have some news.”

The silence on the other end of the line seemed to last for hours. “Bad news? Are you all right, sweetie?” Momma asked.

“I’m okay. But I have a huge problem. I’ve been asked to help the man who wants to buy Golfing for God.” Caroline said it really fast on the theory that news like this was better delivered rapidly, in the same way that it was better to rip off a Band-Aid quick.

“By who?”

“The senator, who else?”

“And you said yes to this?” Momma apparently had heard every word despite Caroline’s delivery. The headache Caroline had been fighting finally blossomed into a throbbing cluster of pain over her right eye.

“Uh, no, I didn’t say yes,” Caroline countered. “I told Senator Warren that it was impossible. But you know how he doesn’t listen.” Caroline massaged her eye socket, smearing her eyeliner.

“His inability to listen is one of the reasons I’ve never voted for him,” Momma said.

Caroline didn’t respond. Momma was a Democrat. Senator Warren was a Republican. Enough said about that.

Caroline snagged her purse off the floor and tipped it over on her desk searching for the little green bottle of aspirin she always carried. “Look, Momma, I don’t want to help this man get Daddy’s land.” She found the green bottle, and cradled the phone against her shoulder.

“Then why did you call?”

The adult-proof cap finally gave way, and Caroline popped two of those babies into her mouth without any water. She fell into her chair, closed her eyes, and let her head drop back against the high back. “Because,” she said, “the stuck-up English lord who wants to buy Daddy’s land just told me that he wants to pop ’round for a visit during the Watermelon Festival.”

“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, nak*d 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.