Last Chance Beauty Queen (Last Chance #3)(4)
Author: Hope Ramsay

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.”

Rachel laughed. “That sounds like your mother.”

“Well, it’s not a bad idea, you know. I’m thinking once the snooty baron actually sees rural South Carolina up close and personal, he’ll go rushing back to civilization. Then maybe I can convince him to build his factory upstate.”

“What’s wrong with rural South Carolina?”

“Nothing, honey. You know that. I know that. But trust me, this uppity English baron will not love our town the way we do.”

“Do you actually love Last Chance?” Rachel asked.

“Sure, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, Rocky. You don’t come home much.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Rocky said, “I’m really busy with my job, Rachel. I don’t have that much time to come home. And besides, I’m not the one who moved back to Last Chance. We’d see a lot more of each other if you’d stayed in Columbia.”

Rocky and Rachel were practically like sisters. They had grown up together, gone to college together, and started careers in Columbia together. But three years ago, Rachel had decided to move back to Last Chance.

Rachel had only one regret about that decision—her best friend didn’t understand, and probably never would. Rachel decided not to poke that wound again. She was happy Rocky was coming home. It had been a long time since they’d seen one another.

“So when are you coming?” Rachel asked.

“I’m driving down with the baron this afternoon, late. I thought you and I could have dinner at the Pig Place and catch up on things. And then maybe you can help me brainstorm a few ideas for how to scare his Lordship away from Last Chance and my daddy’s land.”

“Uh, maybe you don’t want to scare him away.”

“What? Of course I do.”

“Well, maybe that’s a dumb idea. I’m just saying. The economy around here kind of sucks. We could use some foreign investment.”

“Not if it means bulldozing Golfing for God.”

“I realize that. But what about someplace else in Allenberg County?”

“Rachel, is something wrong?”

Rachel hauled in a big breath. “Yeah, but I can’t talk about it now. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chapter 3

Hugh deBracy wore one of those Irish tweed caps that made him look utterly exotic in the land of ball-cap good ol’ boys. He also looked right at home behind the wheel of the silver Mustang convertible. Somehow Caroline should have known his Lordship would show up driving something like this.

He might even have succeeded in conveying a certain savoir faire, except for the fact that the South Carolina humidity had turned his hair into an unruly mass of curls that his oh-so-cool tweed cap couldn’t constrain. He was cute, in a shy, sexy, duke-ish kind of way—exactly like Mr. Darcy.

And he maneuvered that Mustang with all the cool skill of Darcy on horseback, too. Quite impressive.

But he was still a big problem.

And her best idea for solving this problem was to hope that he’d take one look at her hometown and see it as a big joke.

And that bothered her. A lot.

She may have kept her background a secret from her Columbia friends and work associates, but she didn’t see her town as a joke.

Baron Woolham would, of course, snob that he was. And she would use his snobbery to help him see reason and save her daddy’s land.

So she played up the quirkiness of her hometown during her briefing, giving him an uncensored description of the tangled web of relationships between the members of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God, the Ladies Auxiliary, the Garden Club, and Nita Wills’s Book Club.

Halfway through her discussion of the enmity between Lillian Bray, chair of the Auxiliary, and Hettie Marshall, chair of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God, it occurred to her that she might have a fighting chance to make him see reason if she could get the Last Chance church ladies to collectively scare the bejesus out of him.

Maybe Miriam Randall would come up with some kind of matrimonial fortune for him that would send him packing. His lordship would not be amused by Miriam Randall. Caroline was sure of it.

And even if Miriam failed to scare him, Caroline could always count on the greased watermelon race, or the seed-spitting contest, or the demolition derby. Those events were a whole heap of fun, but she doubted that his high and mightiness would see it that way. He’d be shocked and awed and appalled.

“Crikey, that’s different,” his Lordship said when Last Chance’s water tower finally came into view on the horizon.

Oh good. Caroline could hardly contain her joy. She was sure Hugh deBracy was getting the message loud and clear, with just one gander at the water tower’s striped watermelon paint job.

“I see your town takes watermelons seriously,” deBracy said.

“Watermelons are important to our town,” Caroline replied in her best straight man voice.

“I would have thought soybeans were more important, judging by the acres of them we’ve passed.”

Caroline cast her gaze over the endless fields of beans on either side of the road. He recognized soybeans when he saw them? That was a surprise. Most city folk wouldn’t know a soybean from a corn stalk.