Last Chance Beauty Queen (16 page)

Haley felt Granddaddy go still. “Well, obviously, you didn’t give her any advice about dealing with a destructive angel, did you, Bill?”

“Well I—”

“I can just imagine what Lillian said to her.”

Haley sniffled back her tears. “Miz Bray said I should be locked up someplace where crazy people go.” Another wave of tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t want to go to a place like that.” The sob broke over her, and she buried herself in the safe haven of Granddaddy’s T-shirt.

“Elbert, I’m very sorry. Lillian didn’t give me a chance to speak with the child. Haley is very troubled. She needs guidance.”

“Right. I got it,” Granddaddy said.

“Elbert, I—”

“Look, we’ll talk later. It would be best if you left us alone. Now.”

The preacher turned to go, but Granddaddy called him back. “Bill,” he said, “I’m disappointed in you. After all the help you and Hettie have given me these last few weeks with the golf course, I would have thought you still had faith in angels. Lillian is a lost cause, I know. But I had high hopes for you.”

Hugh spent most of the afternoon in the company of Senator Warren and his daughter. Both of them were keen on schmoozing the other political VIPs in attendance at the barbecue.

Hugh wanted nothing of that sort of thing. He wanted to enjoy himself, and politicking was like torture, especially since Senator Warren was quite fond of cigars, and the smoke always reminded Hugh of his grandfather.

Hugh might have made an escape but Cissy had anchored him to her side. He bided his time until Cissy excused herself for a visit to the washroom. Then Hugh
headed up to the second floor of the picnic pavilion, where Clay Rhodes’s band was playing and people had gathered to dance.

He stood like a wallflower, watching the dancers move about on the floor. He didn’t know the dance. It was one of those American line dances with intricate steps and moves. He was less interested in the dance moves than he was in watching the utterly fetching Caroline Rhodes, who was dancing barefooted with Dash Randall.

After her pony ride and an afternoon of dancing, her hair looked like a wild mane around her pale face. Her crown of ribbons had tangled down her back, and she moved like a sprite in the afternoon light. She was a vision from a storybook: round in all the right places; her amazing bosom displayed by the bodice of that dress; her porcelain cheeks blushing pink. He wanted to possess her. He wanted to collect her and walk off with her into the piney woods and see what magic she really commanded.

And he wanted to put his fist right through Dash Randall’s handsome face.

The man had kept her right by his side all afternoon. He had thoroughly staked his claim, and Caroline seemed to be completely besotted with the bloke.

Well, he could hardly blame her. Randall was supposedly quite well heeled and handsome as the devil.

He was also an appallingly bad dancer.

Not that Hugh was particularly good on his feet. But Randall was downright clumsy.

“It sucks, don’t it?”

Hugh turned to find Bubba Lockheart standing right beside him. The poor man’s nose was in a splint, his eyes
were black, his lip swollen, and there was a noticeable gap in his smile where his front teeth had once been. He was sipping what looked like a Coke through a soda straw.

Shame washed through Hugh. “I say, I’m terribly sorry about Thursday night. I probably overreacted.”

Bubba nodded. “Yeah, I know, I probably did, too.”

“No hard feelings.”

“Nah. The surgeon said I should sue you, but the way I see it, I probably started the fight. I shouldn’t have grabbed Rocky the way I did. I just lost my head there for a minute. And I’d already had a couple of beers.”

“Well, that might be true, but I probably should have given you warning before I swung.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, both of them watching Caroline dance. Finally Bubba said, “I’m thinking the two of us might be able to take him, what with him being gimpy and all.”

“Him? You mean Randall?”

“Yeah. Him.” Bubba sounded miserable.

“You know, I rather think that would be poor form right here in the middle of the party.”

“Right. We could sneak up on him later and open up a can of whup ass on him.”

“Hm, yes, I suppose he deserves it for lassoing Caroline off that float.”

“He manhandled her. I don’t like it when people do that to Rocky.”

Hugh refrained from pointing out that Bubba had manhandled Caroline, or that Hugh had not liked it either. Instead he said, “I think Caroline would be quite annoyed at us if we picked a fight with Randall. She was
quite angry with me on Thursday for what happened. I don’t think she approves of fighting.”

“That’s probably right. But she’s ignoring me.”

“Well, there is more than one way to get a woman to notice you.”

Bubba turned to give him a long, hard stare. Bubba was a very large man. Hugh doubted he could take him a second time, especially since he appeared to be stone sober at the moment.

“I think she’s noticed
you
plenty, from what I’ve heard around town,” Bubba said, his voice taking on an edge.

“Well, last night doesn’t count. I got her drunk, which I realize was reprehensible. But let’s face it, she’s noticing Randall right at the moment, and she looks to be completely sober.”

“Right.”

“So I’ve got an idea.”

“You do?”

Hugh nodded. “If we want her to notice us, we can’t stand here on the sidelines. We have to join the battle, right there on the football pitch, as they say.”

Bubba frowned. “You know, you sound real pretty when you talk, but I don’t understand half of what you say.”

“Bubba, old man, we need to get into the game.”

“Right. But how? Besides knocking his block off.”

Hugh scanned the crowd looking for wallflowers. He found two: the pretty girl with long brown hair and a curvy figure who had been dining with Caroline on Thursday night, and Cissy Warren, who was scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for Hugh so she could drag him back downstairs.

“Perfect. You see that young lady over there? The one who came to your rescue on Thursday?”

“You mean Rachel? She’s Rocky’s friend. She’s real pretty.”

“Yes, she’s quite dishy. Which is the point. Go ask her to dance.”

“Me? Ask Rachel Polk? Uh, she isn’t ever going to dance with me. Especially after what happened to my face. She’s too pretty for me.”

“She is not. She cares about you. She tried to save your teeth.”

“Yeah, she did. Then she disappeared after the doc told her it was a hopeless case. I’m sure she isn’t interested in a guy who looks like a hillbilly.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure she likes you quite a bit. And besides, your smile can be fixed. You’re an American, and all Americans have fabulous smiles. The number of dentists per capita in your country is completely amazing.”

“The doc said they could fix my teeth with implants.”

“So, see? You should go right over there and thank her for trying to save your teeth. And then dance with her. Dance a slow dance with her.”

“Why?”

“Because it will send Caroline the message that you don’t care if she’s off dancing the night away with that cowboy.”

“But that’s not the message I want to send.”

“I know. It’s reverse psychology. See, if she doesn’t think you care, then she’s going to care more.”

“Uh-huh. It kind of makes sense, I guess. Sort of.”

“Trust me. This works all the time.”

Bubba frowned. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to dance with Cissy Warren. She’s rich. I’m not entirely sure I like her very much, but she certainly fits the bill when it comes to Miriam Randall’s forecast for me.”

“Miriam gave you a forecast?”

“Yes, she told me to marry a rich woman, which is, more or less, what my grandfather used to tell me when I was a lad.”

“Well, that kind of leaves Rocky out of the running, don’t it?” Bubba grinned. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Well, I suppose so, more’s the pity. But we can still carry on. Are you game?”

Bubba shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go get ’em.”

“I’m a freaking genius,” Dash said. “Look.”

Caroline turned her head and saw two things. Bubba and Rachel dancing together, and beyond them, Lord Woolham guiding the model-thin and naturally blond Cissy Warren around the dance floor with his undeniable grace and aplomb.

A whole raft of conflicted feelings raced through her. Seeing Bubba dancing was a positive sign. Seeing him dance with her best friend was, on the other hand, deeply distressing. The last thing Rachel needed was clingy Bubba screwing up her life.

And then there was the whole Hugh and Cissy thing. She didn’t like them dancing. Not even a teeny bit.

But there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Cissy and Hugh matched. They were both rich and came from blue-blooded families. She was the country girl who needed to be looking for a regular Joe.

“What? Aren’t you happy?” Dash asked.

Caroline turned back toward him and studied his craggy face for a long moment. He was handsome, and funny, and a pain in the backside most of the time. They had known each other since she was a little girl. He was her brothers’ friend.

He was rich. He owned almost all the land in the general vicinity. He’d worked with his hands most of his life. He was a regular guy. People liked him, now that he was working through his problems. He’d gotten sober. Cleaned up his act.

There was a lot a girl could like in a man like Dash. But Caroline wasn’t the girl.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

“You’re sweet, you know.”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’m not. You’re sweet but you’re also a terrible dancer. And my poor bare feet need a break.”

“Okay. Want to take a walk down to the first pier? That should get everyone talking.”

“No. I don’t need any more talk. And besides, while I want Bubba to move on, I’m not sure I want him to move on to Rachel.”

Dash frowned. “What? Are you jealous?”

She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Dash, I wouldn’t wish Bubba on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.”

He gave her a sober look. “You know, Bubba is an all-right guy when he’s sober. Rachel could do worse.”

“I don’t think Rachel and Bubba are a match made in Heaven.”

“Well, maybe not, but look at him. He’s enjoying
himself for once. So, see, I’m a genius. You should be grateful to me.”

“Yeah, I guess, but right now I’m just exhausted. And you need to rest that leg. So let’s drop the charade, okay? I need some alone time.”

“Okay. I need to wet my whistle anyways.”

He leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. He played it up and lingered over it, but it was still a brotherly kiss.

Caroline left him at the pavilion with a bunch of local guys discussing Carolina football like the only teams in the universe were Clemson and the University of South Carolina. She wandered down to the river’s edge, where she collapsed onto a wooden bench. She sucked in the warm summer air, filled with the coppery scent of black water. Out beyond the riverbank, a gaggle of teenagers were trying to sink the float that rode the current between the first pier and the baby pool. They would pile on, get the float under water, and then the current would take over and knock people off. The activity came with its share of girls shrieking and boys laughing.

Caroline had been one of those kids once. The first day of the Watermelon Festival used to be the best day of the year. School was out, the weather was warm, the food was delicious, and her family got to come swimming out here.

All of that had changed twelve years ago, the last time she’d put on this dress.

And now, thanks to Dash’s admittedly brilliant plan, she might never be able to live down the legend.

She’d heard folks whispering all day. They halfway
expected her to ride off in Dash’s Cadillac tonight and come back two days from now as his blushing bride.

Such was the legacy that Stone and Sharon had left in their wake. Everyone wanted a happy ending to that story. Unfortunately Stone’s happy ending had been cut short. So now everyone kept looking for another, substitute, Watermelon Festival romance.

She was doomed. She would have to play this charade for a while. And then when folks realized it was a hoax, she’d get blamed. Dash was right, his lasso had made her a living legend, and not in a good way either.

Her throat knotted up at that thought. She had no reason to cry, except that sometimes when she thought about Sharon and Stone, she’d get all weepy. Sharon had treated her like a grown-up, even when she’d been a teenager. Her sister-in-law had encouraged her to go to college, to be her own woman.

Sharon had loved Caroline’s brother, but Sharon had given up a lot to be with him. Sometimes Caroline wondered if Stone understood all that Sharon had sacrificed in the name of love.

And now Sharon was gone, and Caroline missed her. For a little instant, it almost felt as if Sharon was right there with her, enjoying the day as she always had. Sharon loved the Watermelon Festival. Caroline’s eyes watered up, just thinking about Stone and Sharon.

Great. She needed to have a crying jag in front of everyone like she needed a hole in the head. She gathered up the yards of tulle in her skirt and raced on her bare feet down the path that ran beside the river’s edge.

The tears overwhelmed her as she made her way past the first pier and on into the overgrown area upstream. A
narrow dirt track led along the riverbank to a second pier, where people used to fish all the time.

She walked out onto the pier, the wooden slats smooth and cool under her feet. She sank down onto one of the benches and wrestled her tears under control. She had no reason to cry.

She was alive, and it was a beautiful day. She sat on the pier for a long while as the sun sank in the sky and the light turned golden. It was peaceful here, watching the river run, listening to it burble underneath the pier’s planking as it rolled its way to the sea. She let her thoughts run free, and of course, her mind went back to last night and the touch of Hugh’s hand, and the feel of his skin, and the way she had floated across the dance floor in his arms.