Miss Julia's School of Beauty.

by Ann B. Ross.

This is for Deborah Schneider, with many thanks.

Acknowledgments.

My thanks, as always, to Pamela Dorman, Lucia Watson, and Zaidee Rose for mustering the might of Viking Penguin on Miss Julia's behalf.

My thanks, also, to Abby Ramsey for knowing the words to "There Is a Time"; to Cathy Sink (she'll know why), and to Millie Wareham (her mother will know why).

And special thanks to Ruth Sternemann of Wisconsin, the winner of the Name the Baby Contest, for naming Binkie and Coleman's little daughter.

Chapter 1.

I am sick and tired of people asking how married life's treating me. Every time I've turned around in the three weeks we've been back from our honeymoon-and don't get me started on that subject, since Dollywood is hardly my idea of a romantic getaway-somebody's wanted to know how Sam and I are doing. You'd think I'd come fresh and new to the conjugal state with no idea in the world of what it means to share a bed. Because that's exactly what's on their minds when they ask. So I'm going to answer it one more time, and that will be my final word: We're doing as well as can be expected, and I'll thank you not to ask again.

Of course, if I'm honest, which I always am, living with a man after enjoying several years of solitary peace takes some getting used to. Not that Sam is anything like Wesley Lloyd Springer, who I never got used to, even though I tried for more than forty years. That marriage ended in Wesley Lloyd's sudden demise, although for all intents and purposes it had ended some years before he did. I just hadn't noticed.

But you better believe I'm going to be on my guard this time.

My foot set the chair rocking as my hands gripped the wide arms. Sam's front porch was one of the few places I felt at ease in his house. I just had not been able to get settled in at his place, although I knew that's what generally follows when you marry-the woman leaves her home and lives with her husband, and is usually happy to do it. But I'd think, at our age, we could've at least discussed the matter. After all, it wasn't as if I were a young thing, eager to leave my parents' home.

But no, on the day we returned home from our communal honeymoon, which was spent with Hazel Marie, Little Lloyd, Lillian, Latisha, and Mr. Pickens, one car went one way and one went the other. Without a by-your-leave, Sam had driven right past my house, went another few blocks, and turned into his driveway, saying, "Well, here we are, Mrs. Murdoch. Welcome home." And that was how I ended up here, and not all that happy about it, either.

So Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd were alone in my house, four blocks over, where I couldn't keep an eye on them. I suspected, however, that Mr. Pickens was a frequent and welcome guest. By them, not necessarily by me. I declare, if I could take a chance on marriage, it seemed to me he could do the same.

The rocking chair began to die down, as I returned to thoughts of what I'd unknowingly put up with where Wesley Lloyd was concerned-how he'd secretly and scantily supported a mistress and a son for almost a decade before his passing brought them out of the woodwork. Of course, Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd had proved a blessing to me in the long run, but hardly in the short one. So, even though I am not averse to receiving blessings, I could do without any more of that particular kind. Which meant that I was determined not to put up with a stunt like that from another husband.

Not that I intended to follow Sam around or check up on him or never let him out of my sight, but I thought I could recognize the symptoms of a distracted husband now. Besides, Sam is retired from the practice of law, so he doesn't have the excuse of working late or of meeting a client or of any other alibi for being out of the house. He'd better be where he's supposed to be, when he's supposed to be. I'm taking no chances of being made a fool of again, and Sam knows it. At least, he ought to, for I've told him often enough.

"Julia?" The screen door squeaked as Sam opened it and stepped out onto the porch. "What're you doing out here by yourself?"

"Watching the world go by."

"Mind if I watch with you?" He smiled as he pulled another rocker up close. "Lots to see this time of day."

I couldn't help but smile. There wasn't a soul on the sidewalk, nor had there been more than two cars that passed in the last hour.

"It'll pick up soon," I said, learning to give back the wry humor that he delighted in. "It's almost rush hour."

"So it is." He glanced at his watch. "There'll be a veritable traffic jam when people start heading home. Glad I made it out here in time."

He reached over and took my hand. "No regrets?"

I rested my head on my unoccupied hand, and said, "No, I guess not. It's just that I can't help wondering how it'll all work out."

"Worry about today, Julia. If today works out, then tomorrow will, too."

"Sufficient unto the day? I guess you're right, but you know what they say: Marry in haste, repent in leisure."

"Good Lord, Julia. If you call what we did marrying in haste, how long do you think we should've strung it out? I started courting you almost from the time old W.L. was buried."

"You did? Well, I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't notice." Then, fearful of having hurt his feelings, I quickly added, "But you have to admit, I had a few other things on my mind." Namely, the discovery of Wesley Lloyd's rascally nature and what it had produced in the form of Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd. Which, of course, Sam knew all about, since he had helped me through most of it.

"No," I went on. "I'm not talking about the length of your courting efforts. I'm talking about our quick jump into marriage without thinking through the consequences. You have to admit that running off to that tawdry all-night wedding chapel in Pigeon Forge and honeymooning at Dollywood-a theme park of all things-constituted a spur-of-the-moment decision. If that's not marrying in haste, I don't know what is."

"Well, I don't want you repenting in leisure or any other way. What's bothering you, Julia? If I can make it right, I will."

"Some of it's Lillian. She's unhappy. She and James just can't seem to get along. And I can't blame James. He's been looking after you for so long that it's natural he'd resent somebody else coming in. But they're at each other all the time, Sam, and I wonder if I should've asked Lillian to work here. Except, I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Would she be happier with Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd?"

"I don't know. Maybe. She misses that child something awful. Even though she still has Latisha, probably for the duration since that little girl's mother is showing no signs of sending for her." Latisha was Lillian's great-grand, as she called her, and had been in Lillian's care for some months now, ever since her mother decided to head for the bright lights of New York. I smiled, recalling how Latisha, barely six years old, had ridden the log flume at Dollywood two dozen times, then came home telling everybody she was ready for another honeymoon.

Starting the chair rocking again, I couldn't help but think how our rush to marry had been so woefully lacking in any long-range planning. "I thought," I went on, "that with her house finished and Latisha needing supervision, Lillian would welcome more time at home. With just you and me to do for, and James to help, she has a much easier time of it, and for the same salary, too. Instead, she's moping around like she's on her last legs, and giving James the evil eye whenever she can. And," I went on, giving him a glance, "James is doing the same to her."

"If she's that unhappy, why don't you see if she wants to go back to your house? I expect Hazel Marie would love to have her."

"I know she would. Why, Sam, Hazel Marie couldn't cook a decent meal if her life depended on it. I worry about that child getting the proper nutrition. But to let Lillian go? I couldn't do that. I'd be all alone over here."

"Alone? With me here?" Sam frowned, showing real distress. "I'm your family now, Julia. You're not ever alone with me around."

Well, I wouldn't tell him, but I could do with a little more aloneness than he was giving me. Lord, I'd about forgotten how arduous it was to get a sound sleep with another body in the bed. But that was something I wasn't ready to say, particularly since he seemed to take such comfort in having me near. But, I'll tell you the truth, such close contact is hard to put up with every night of the week.

I'd thought that a late-in-life marriage would entail little more than having a friend to talk to and discuss things with, and of course have by my side for social engagements. But, to my consternation, I'd found that Sam had more than companionship on his mind.

But the fact of the matter was that I missed my own home and the people in it. I missed the activity and the give-and-take among us and that little boy's heart-lifting smile. Oh, of course, Little Lloyd turned up at Sam's just about every day, but visiting together is not the same as living together.

But, to answer Sam, I said, "I know I'm not alone. It's just that here we are, two old people, sitting around by ourselves."

"We're not old, Julia." Sam leaned over and lowered his voice. "Don't you know you've put a spring in my step and a sparkle in my eye?"

"And don't you know that I don't like referring to such things in the light of day? I declare, Sam, you beat all I've ever seen."

"Where's your mind, woman? All I'm referring to is being in your company. But," he went on, "if you have certain things on your mind, I'll be glad to accommodate you."

"If you don't behave yourself, I'm going in the house. You can just sit out here by yourself and wave to the cars." I sounded severe, but he knew me well enough to know it was all I could do to keep from laughing. That's what the man did to me and, I guess, that was the reason I'd married him in spite of my misgivings.

Take that night, barely a month ago, when he'd swept away all my inhibitions with his sudden insistence that we drive over the mountain to Tennessee and marry before sunup. At the time, the whole idea was so tantalizing that I hadn't stopped to think of what I was getting myself into. Why, we didn't even tell a soul what we were doing-just took off in the dead of night and eloped. I still couldn't get over how I'd done something so unlike myself. I, who had always preferred things done decently and in order, and as close to Emily Post's recommendations as it was possible to get, had just thrown caution to the winds.

To tell the truth, the whole thing had been like having an out-of-body experience. Not that I go in for all that new age claptrap, but it was as if I had watched somebody else stand beside Sam and promise to love and honor-but not to obey, I assure you-him till death did us part. I didn't get back into my right frame of mind until the next morning when I looked at the two of us in the cold light of day, and realized that I'd become tangled up again in the ties that bind.

When our one-line wedding announcement came out in the local paper several days later, why, you can imagine what a splash it made all over town. As soon as we got home, Mildred Allen called to tell me that the announcement should've included the schools Sam and I had attended and all the clubs we belonged to, as well as the committees and panels we'd sat on. "People read those things, Julia," she'd said. "And they want to know."

Then Emma Sue Ledbetter had dropped by, all red eyed and splotchy. Her feelings were mortally wounded because we hadn't been married in the church with her husband officiating. "What you did was a slap in the face, Julia," she'd sobbed. "And that smidgen of an announcement in the paper made it clear that you had snubbed your own pastor." Well, wasn't that the truth, and furthermore, it was done with deliberate aforethought.

As for the pastor himself, there'd been not one word out of him so far. Which suited me fine. Hazel Marie, now, was another story. She couldn't decide whether she was thrilled to death that Sam and I were married, or too mad to speak to me. "I wanted you to have a big wedding," she'd wailed, "with all the trimmings. I can't believe you'd do this without telling me." But Lillian had just smiled and said, " 'Bout time you got off yo' high horse an' married that man, I don't care how you do it."

And there're some people who aren't real sure that a Dollywood wedding will hold up over time. I occasionally wondered about that myself, but I wouldn't go so far as to mention it. Old Mrs. Estes, who's never believed that anybody's walked on the moon, squinched up her eyes at us the first time we walked into church together. And that old fool, Thurlow Jones, wrote a congratulatory note, but spoiled it by saying that he would've done better by me.

But, back to that night and the high spirits that Sam kept me in the whole two hours of driving it took to get to the altar. He talked all the way, telling me about the wedding packages offered by the Wedding Ring Chapel, which, I discovered, he had previously investigated and had on tap anytime he could turn my head enough to get me to agree to such a scheme.

"I want nothing but the best for us," Sam had said. "So let's decide which ceremony we want. There's the deluxe package that includes a bridal gown and a groom's tuxedo, complete with bouquet and boutonniere."

"Too much, Sam," I said, laughing, although if they'd offered a nice dinner suit I might've gone for that. I certainly hadn't been appropriately dressed for a wedding.

"Okay," he said. "How about the package that includes wine goblets and sparkling cider? Oh, you'll like this, Julia. They all include a garter."

"A garter! That is the tackiest thing I've ever heard of. I thought I'd faint when Binkie lifted her wedding dress, exposing her whole leg, and took hers off. No, let's bypass the garter."

"Well, I'm disappointed, but you can keep it as a souvenir. Now, we have to have the candlelight ceremony. That'd be nice, don't you think? And the photograph album with twenty pictures. Don't worry about the cost-it's all included. And the framed marriage certificate-that's important. I want it hanging over our bed so you won't forget the liberties it allows me."

"Oh, Sam, you are too much."

The whole trip was one of the best times of my life. I'd never been happier, mainly because I'd simply closed my eyes to the grief that woman is heir to in the marital state. And, believe me, I'd had plenty of grief in my previous experience of that state. Instead, I'd just enjoyed the moment, something I'd never done before. Or since.

"Now, listen," I'd finally said. "Let's just have a plain ceremony with no extras. I can do without candles, cameras, and bouquets. Just make sure everything is legal, that's all I ask."

"Well, if it's plain you want, we can do the drive-through special. It's the cheapest, too, and I want to know if they ask, You want fries with that?' when you drive up to the window."

By the time we walked into the chapel, after filling out the necessary forms and swearing that there were no legal impediments to our merger, I was amazed at what followed. First off, the officiating minister glanced over our license and the various forms, then broke into a wide grin. "Well, bless me, Lord. I see you folks're from Abbot County, North Carolina. Real nice place. I got kin over there. Y'all know any Kincaids? I guess you don't, they all married and remarried now. But I'm still a Kincaid, Aaron Kincaid, to be exact, and happy to be of service. Now if you folks're ready to be united in wedded bliss, step right up to the altar and we'll get this show on the road."

I almost turned and left, right then.

But that was just the beginning of wonders. In the small room, arranged like any other chapel, except for the naked plaster angels hanging from the ceiling, we were met by a large woman of uncertain age dressed in a flowing white robe. She handed us a card printed with a dozen or so song titles, any one of which she would be happy to render with piano accompaniment, for a cost of twenty-five dollars over and above the price of the basic package.

I rolled my eyes, but Sam was ever the gentleman. He politely handed the card back to her and, with a slight bow, said, "Maybe next time."

Leaving the soloist with her mouth open, we proceeded to the front to meet the smiling officiator. We had been assured that he was ordained and legal in all manner of ways approved by the state of Tennessee. Which should've made me leery, right there, but we were too far along to raise questions by that time.

Before getting to the ceremony, the preacher, who was all decked out in a white suit and white suede shoes, asked if we wanted the candlelight ceremony. He waved his hand at the plethora of candles on white metal stands flanking the pulpit. "We'll light 'em all for a mere twenty-five dollars more," he said. Then expansively added, "The golden glow will be an immeasurable addition to your wedding pictures."

Sam cocked his head at me. "Candles, Julia? Or would you rather use that money for a motel room?"

Now, I know that the ceremonies of life should be approached with dignity and solemnity, but, I declare, it was all I could do to keep my composure. Sam had enough money to buy an entire motel, with plenty left over for whatever else he wanted. I think he thought that if he could keep me amused, I'd be married before I knew it. And that's just about the way it happened.

I have come to the conclusion that the most important ingredient of a good marriage is laughter. And Sam provides plenty of that, yet he never steps over the line to play the fool. So, is there any wonder I married the man?

But I'll tell you the truth. Given all the subsequent second thoughts I'd been having, he'd do well to stay on his toes and keep me entertained.

Chapter 2.

The screen door squeaked as Lillian poked her head out. "Miss Julia, Miss Hazel Marie on the phone. She say she got something to tell you, you gonna love. She don't say what, but she say hurry up an' come to the phone."

Sam and I looked at each other, the same thought running through our minds.

"You suppose?" I asked.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You never know."

Hurrying past Lillian, I dashed through the hall and into Sam's study. "Hazel Marie," I gasped, out of breath by the time I picked up the phone, "has Mr. Pickens proposed?"

"Him? Why would you think that?"

"Oh, no reason. I just keep hoping, and when Lillian said you had something to tell me that I'd really love, well, I thought . . ."

"You know how he is, and I don't guess he's ever going to be the marrying kind. No, it's something else, and I really need your help with it. Coleman just called to tell me that the sheriff wants to buy two more dogs for the canine unit and some bulletproof vests for them. And guess what? They want me to put on a beauty pageant!"

Coleman Bates was a deputy sheriff, my erstwhile boarder, husband of Binkie, father of little Grace Elizabeth, and as fine a young man as I'd ever known, except for his habit of calling his baby girl Gracie, when she already had a perfectly lovely name. But his coming up as a proponent of a beauty pageant made me wonder how level his head was situated.

"I don't understand the connection between police dogs and beauty contestants."

"Well, I don't either," she admitted, "but it's all part of their public awareness program-you know, to make the public aware of what the department needs. So they want to raise money by selling tickets to the pageant, and they're hoping that businesses will donate prizes and things to the winners." She stopped for a long minute. "And maybe we could get some sponsors for the contestants, too. Oh, I know, we could give them credit and free advertising in our programs. But, listen, Miss Julia. The sheriff thinks that a lot of sheriffs' departments all across the state will be doing the same thing. I mean, he doesn't want this to be some tacky, local kind of thing. Our winner might compete in a statewide contest, and for big prizes, too. Isn't that exciting? I can't wait to get started."

"You're going to be a contestant?" I asked, marveling at the thought. Hazel Marie was eye-catching, there was no doubt about that, especially with her blonde hair and full-bosomed figure and the way she dressed and carried herself. But, let's face it, you don't normally see a forty-something-year-old woman prancing around publicly in high heels and a bathing suit. Not that I wanted to see any younger woman do it, either.

"No, no." She laughed. "They want me to be the organizer. You know, do all the planning and setting up, telling the contestants what to do and what they can expect and so on."

"Do you know anything about beauty pageants?"

"Well, I've been to a lot of them, and I almost entered one one time, except I couldn't afford all the clothes you need. But we can do this, Miss Julia, and it'll be loads of fun. I've already looked up pageants on the Internet. I mean, Lloyd found them for me, and you wouldn't believe all the different kinds they have-from babies to women over the age of sixty."

"Hazel Marie," I said with a perilous warning in my voice, "you're not suggesting . . . ?"

"No," she said, laughing again. "I wouldn't do that to you, but mainly because I don't think you'd do it. Of course, you'd win, if you did."

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see them go back in my head. "I don't need flattery, Hazel Marie, because there's no way in the world I'd hold myself up to public ridicule by displaying myself in such a fashion."