Lillian closed the refrigerator door and turned, frowning at me. "Who you been listenin' to?"

"That's the problem. Either I'm not listening hard enough, or nobody's saying anything. See, Lillian, I think this marital mess I'm in may be the Lord's doing. I think he's giving me one more chance to get it right."

Lillian stood looking at me some little while, thinking over what I'd said. Then she lit into me. "You think gettin' rid of Mr. Sam be what the Lord want you to do? Miss Julia, I'm here to tell you, the Lord, he like marri't folks. What you think he mean when he say, Go, and sin no more'? He mean, don't be havin' no relations till you get that knot tied good an' tight. An' that's what you been doin'. I mean, not doin'. Not havin' no relations, I mean."

"Oh, Lillian, I can't talk about such things." I turned away, embarrassed at discussing intimate details of the bedroom in the family kitchen. "And that's not the problem. The problem is whether I should've married Sam at all."

"You think the Lord be up there, frownin' on you an' Mr. Sam, sending troubles on yo' head all the time? No'm, he be laughin', 'cause he been tryin' to get you two together, an' now he done it, but you can't let it rest. You got to keep on worryin' it and worryin' it. I tell you what I think, Miss Julia." She put her hands on her hips and gave me her last word. "I think you been watchin' too much Montel an' Oprah an' Judge Judy. You jus' lookin' for trouble."

I'd just opened my mouth to refute her, when Hazel Marie burst through the swinging door. "Miss Julia! You won't believe what's happened. It's just awful. We've got to do something."

My heart caught in my throat as I thought of Sam and Little Lloyd in some dire circumstance. I couldn't even speak, standing there holding on to the counter, waiting to hear the dreadful news.

Hazel Marie stormed over to me, her face screwed up in agitation. "Ashley Knowles has dropped out!"

"What?"

"She's dropped out of the pageant. Etta Mae just called and told me. Six contestants was the bare minimum, and I wanted eight, but couldn't get them. Now we're down to five. I am just sick about this."

I eased my grip on the counter as relief flooded through me. "Lord, Hazel Marie, I thought something had happened to Little Lloyd and Sam. Don't scare me like that."

That brought her up short. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just so upset, I'm not thinking straight. Etta Mae thinks Ashley doesn't have what it takes, and we ought to just let her go. But I just can't."

"You've put a lot of effort into the pageant, Hazel Marie, and you have a right to be upset. But, I'll tell you what. Why don't I see if I can do something with Ashley. Maybe she just needs a little encouragement, and since I'm not a pageant official, why, it would be all right for me to help her, wouldn't it?"

Hazel Marie's face lit up. "Oh, would you? You've saved my life, Miss Julia. Thank you, thank you."

She'd saved mine, too, for now I had a perfectly good reason to go all out to whip Miss Knowles into shape, and maybe learn something of her uncle's whereabouts. But first, I had to keep her in the contest.

About that time, there was an almighty crash upstairs, and we heard Willie Pruitt laugh and say, "Whoops."

I looked up, expecting water, or maybe the ceiling, to start falling. "What are they doing now?"

"Still puttin' in them closets," Lillian said, shaking her head.

"Yes," I said, "and they need to get through with it. I think they've found a home up there."

"You ought to go up and see," Hazel Marie said. "I don't think you've been up there once, and they're doing such a good job."

"Maybe later, Hazel Marie. But right now, let's talk about Miss Knowles. Why is she dropping out? Did Etta Mae say? And, by the way, Willie Pruitt was certainly taken with Etta Mae. Did you notice? We need to get her back over here, so we can nurture that relationship."

"Oh." Hazel Marie laughed. "I don't think she's all that interested."

"You never can tell," I said darkly, convinced of Miss Wiggins's interest in any stray male who crossed her path. "But, back to Miss Knowles. What's her problem?"

"Etta Mae said she would only say that she didn't fit in. That she thought she wasn't beauty contestant material. And I hate to say this, but she really isn't."

"Well, who is? I mean, all the girls are attractive, certainly, but not a one of them would set the world on fire."

"Just wait, Miss Julia. When Etta Mae and I get through with them, they're going to knock your eyes out. By the time we get the right makeup on them and their hair fixed and get them in their outfits, they'll all be beautiful. You won't recognize them, they'll be so glamorous."

"If that's so, can't you do the same for Miss Knowles? She may need more work than the others, but that would just make the change more startling. Wouldn't it?"

"Sure it would, but not if she won't let us work on her. And, really, it wouldn't be fair to do any more for her than the others. Oh, Miss Julia." Hazel Marie collapsed in a chair by the table. "We've worked so hard, and I'll be so disappointed if she doesn't participate. We need her, even though there's no way she could win."

"Now, Hazel Marie, let me talk to the girl. She was willing enough at first, so something must've happened to make her change her mind. I'll find out what it is and fix it."

"Oh, I hope you can," she said, jumping up from the chair. "I'll leave it all to you, because right now, I don't know if I'm coming or going. I miss Lloyd so much, and J.D. is making himself awfully scarce here lately, so no telling what he's up to. And then this pageant, which is about to drive me crazy. Etta Mae and I are meeting the girls at the high school auditorium in-oh, my goodness-ten minutes. I'm going to be late, and we're having their first stage rehearsal. I can't take on one other thing, so Ashley's all yours." Hazel Marie grabbed her pocketbook and headed out the door.

"Wait. Wait a minute, Hazel Marie. I don't even know where she lives, and besides, I don't . . ."

Hazel Marie stuck her head back in the door. "She lives in the Hillandale Trailer Park. You know, where Etta Mae lives. Not sure exactly where, but the park's not that big. You can find it-just ask somebody." And off she went, leaving me with a job I didn't want, but badly needed.

I turned to Lillian. "Well, you heard her. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"To talk Miss Knowles into parading around on a stage."

"Uh-uh, I don't know nothin' 'bout that."

"Neither do I." I sighed and picked up my pocketbook again. "But if it has to be done, we might as well get on with it."

"Who we?"

"Why, you and me, of course. I'm not going by myself. I hardly know the girl."

"I don't know her any better'n you, an' if I jus' volunteer, it done slip my mind."

"Oh, don't be so literal. I've had enough of that with Emma Sue. I need somebody with me, and Little Lloyd's not here. So you're elected. Besides, it'll do you good to get out for a while."

She kept on grumbling, murmuring about something in the oven getting ruined, but she washed and dried her hands and followed me out to the car.

I drove out to the old highway and turned toward Delmont, one of the several small towns in the county that was trying to compete with Abbotsville. With little success, I might add, even though it'd gotten itself incorporated, hired a town manager, and added another traffic light.

On the other side of Delmont, I turned left onto a narrow paved road named for my late husband. All unbeknownst to me until he passed on and his deals saw the light of day, Wesley Lloyd had bought up a good bit of fairly useless acreage out there. He had badgered the department of transportation to pave the road that ran past the trailer park in hopes, I assumed, of it being worth something someday. So far, he'd been wrong.

The Hillandale Trailer Park was on the right. I turned in, feeling the back wheels slide a little as they adjusted to the park's main road, which could've used another load or two of gravel.

"You better slow down," Lillian said.

"I'm slowing. Lord, would you look at the dust we're stirring up." I bit my lip, as we passed single-wides and double-wides blistering in the sun. "If it didn't belong to me, I'd say the owner ought to spruce this place up a little." I'm sorry to say that I'd taken little interest in the park, having put it in the care of an on-site manager. Most of the residents were long-term tenants, meaning to me that they were pleased enough with the way things were. So it seemed to me that I was providing a needed service by making the place, such as it was, available.

Actually, the park wasn't all that bad, if you could overlook the yards strewn with toys and barbeque grills, the wash flapping on lines strung between trailers, and the occasional rusted-out car up on blocks. To be fair, though, there were some trailers that looked well kept, with neat yards and potted plants, and I imagined that Miss Wiggins's was one of them.

"You know where you goin'?" Lillian asked.

"No, but Hazel Marie said to ask somebody. There's a woman we can . . . My Lord, would you look at that."

I would've driven on, but the only person out in the heat was a deeply tanned woman baking half naked in the sun. She was sprawled out in a child's wading pool, her head, arms, and legs hanging over the rims, while her lower part lay in a few inches of water.

I let down my window and called, "Ma'am? Excuse me, but could you tell us where the Knowles family lives?"

She raised her head and squinted at us. "Who?"

"We're looking for a Miss Ashley Knowles. You know where she lives?"

The woman sat up, the straps of her bathing suit top dangling dangerously, exposing more than I cared to see. She splashed water on her shoulders, then patted some on her face.

"She lives down there on the end," she said, pointing. "Last one on this side."

"Thank you," I said, rolled up the window, and continued on. "I declare, Lillian, some people don't have a lick of shame. Did you see how far down that top came? And it was all tanned, too. Think about that, would you."

"No'm, I don't p'ticklar care to."

"Neither do I." I pulled to the side in front of the last trailer, taking note of the listing awning over the door and a few dusty bushes that lined the foundation. It looked as if somebody had tried to improve the looks of the tiny yard, but had given up before it took effect.

"I don't see no car 'round here," Lillian said. "You reckon anybody home?"

"I guess we'll have to go see," I said with a martyred sigh. I opened my door and began to get out. "The things I do for Hazel Marie. Come on, Lillian. Let's go."

She climbed out, mumbling something about the things she did for me, just to remind me of some of the escapades I'd gotten her into before. I stood for a minute, listening to the hum and rattle of leaking air-conditioning units, waiting as she came around the car. I looked carefully around my property, wondering what it would be like to live there. It could've used some trees to shade those tin contraptions from the sun. It could've used a paved street and maybe a common area with a barbeque pit, picnic tables and a swing set. But then I shuddered, thinking of the lawsuit I'd face if somebody got hurt.

"If it's all the same to you, Lillian, I'd rather not mention that I'm the owner. At least until I make some improvements around here." Then I marched up to the trailer door and rapped on the metal frame.

Chapter 29.

A tall, gaunt woman in a flowered housedress and bedroom slippers opened the door. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back in a bun, but several strands had escaped to hang down around her lined face. She wiped her hands on her apron and pursed her mouth.

"Whatever it is," she said, stepping back, "I don't want none."

"Wait," I said. "We're not selling anything. We're just-"

"Not interested," she said firmly and started closing the door. "You people're all the time bangin' on my door. An' I don't care if you did send two women this time, I still don't want to take The Watchtower, nor hear about how just a hunderd and seventy-seven thousand're gonna be saved. You done reached that and more, and here you are after me when you know good and well I'm not in that number."

"Oh," I said, taken aback to be taken for a distributor of religious tracts. "I'm a Presbyterian. We believe in predestination, so you won't find us knocking on doors. But, I'm looking for Miss Ashley Knowles. Does she live here?"

The woman stopped, leaned out, and looked me over, giving Lillian a quick glance in the process. "She done anything?"

"Not as far as I know. Look, I'm-"

The woman's face lit up. "I know who you are! You're Julia Springer. I seen your pi'ture in the paper last year, ridin' on that Harley. I wanted to do that so bad, you just don't know. Come on in, Miz Springer. Ashley's not here right now, but she oughtta be back any minute."

I decided not to get into my name change, since I wasn't sure of it myself. She opened the door wide, smiling and glowing, seemingly pleased to have such distinguished guests, while I grasped the door frame to steady myself on the wobbling cement-block steps.

"Have a seat," the woman said, grinning broadly and waving us in. "Anywhere, it don't matter. Don't mind the mess. I'm kinda slow today."

Seeing that it was my first time within the confines of a trailer, I looked around the combination living-dining-kitchen area with interest. The cramped room would've sent me up the wall if I'd had to live in it, but it was hardly a mess. It was neat, without the clutter that usually accumulates in a small living space. But, then again, it hardly came up to the standards of one of Hazel Marie's home beautification magazines. A florid sofa, to the right as we entered, listed badly, hardly helped by a chunk of wood that had replaced a leg. A leatherette La-Z-Boy recliner was aimed toward a small television set on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area. Two stools at the counter made up the dining room.

I ventured to sit on the sofa, trusting that the substitute leg would hold, while Lillian perched on a straight chair by the door. She was never comfortable in a stranger's house, but then, I rarely was, either.

"Thank you," I said, settling my pocketbook on my lap. "This is Lillian, who helped me find the right address. And you are . . . ?"

"Eunice Knowles," she said, taking what appeared to be her usual seat in the recliner. "I'm Ashley's grandma. She's lived with me ever since her mama's been gone."

"I'm sorry to hear that. It's always sad when a child has to face death so young."

"Why," she said, letting out a cackle, "that sorry woman's not dead. She just picked up and run off years ago, leavin' Ashley with Elmo. And that boy don't know a diaper from a dishrag. Even if I did raise him. But he done all right, till the army sent him to I-raq, and, honey, talk about prayin', I been doin' some. So they won't nobody to take care of Ashley, 'cept me, and, you know, you do what you have to do."

"That's exactly what I say," I agreed. "I know Ashley must be a comfort to you, and a help, too."

"She's not bad," Eunice Knowles said, frowning as if she had to consider it. "She don't give me no trouble, 'cept for all that guitar playin' she does. Lord, she's pickin' on one thing or another day and night. If it's got strings, she plays it. 'Course, Elmo can, too, so she come by it natural. I told her she had to give it up and get herself a job. I mean, she made it through high school, which is a feather in her cap I can't claim, and it's time for her to find a full-time job and start pullin' her weight."

When the woman took a breath, I was able to get in a comment. "I take it she's not planning on college, then."

"Lord, no, honey. 'Less she goes through it like I did, in the front door and out the back." She laughed, then suddenly leaned forward, peering closely at me. "What'd you want with her, anyhow? You got a job for her? That's where she is now, in Delmont, lookin' for work, and she'd hate to miss out on a good offer. She's been workin' after school and on weekends at the McDonald's over there, and I told her she'd have a good chance of movin' up if she stayed on. I mean, she could be managing that place in a few years if she'd stick it out, and be set for life. But no, she don't want nothing that makes her wear a uniform and a paper cap. You got something that don't call for a paper cap?"

"Oh, no. No, I don't have anything for her. I wish I did, but no, we're here to see why she's dropped out of the sheriff's department beauty pageant. We all want her to stay in the contest, and I'm, well, I guess you could say I'm here as an emissary from the pageant officials to ask her to reconsider. Do you know why she's dropped out?"

"Why, honey, I didn't even know she'd dropped in! You know what these teenagers're like nowadays. They don't tell you nothin'. What kind of contest did you say?"

"Well, they call it a beauty contest, but I'd say it's more of a talent contest." I didn't mind stretching the truth a little, since I was trying to gain Mrs. Knowles's approval and her help. "I understand that Ashley plays the guitar quite well, and none of the other contestants can do that, so she might have a very good chance." The thought of the girl's stringy hair, green fingernails, and bashful demeanor made me add, "With a little help, of course. Which all the girls need. And you needn't worry about the tone of the contest. It will be strictly on the up and up, being sponsored by the sheriff's department, and I assure you she will be well chaperoned by Hazel Marie Puckett and Etta Mae Wiggins."

"I know that Etta Mae," Mrs. Knowles said. "She lives right across the road from here. Nice young woman, but you don't want to cross her." She cackled again. "She'll let you have it with both barrels, you stand in her way. I admire that, yes, I do, and I wish Ashley had some of her gumption."

"Yes, well," I said, not wanting to get into an assessment of Miss Wiggins's character. "She really wants Ashley to stay in, and I hope she will, too."

Mrs. Knowles slapped her knee and said, "I don't know what's got into that girl! You'd think she'd jump at a chance to show off a little, the way she plays that music. 'Course, the poor thing don't have much in the way of looks, but I tell her if she'd put that lanky hair up in a bun like me, she might be surprised at what she finds underneath. You can't tell 'em nothin', though."

"I'll help with that, Mrs. Knowles," I said, and got a frowning look from Lillian. "We so want Ashley to be part of it, and I hope you'll encourage her to come back. If you don't mind her being in it, of course."

"Well, I don't mind a bit." Mrs. Knowles looked off in the distance, which wasn't all that far in a trailer, and tapped her worn fingers on the arm of the recliner. "You know, it might be just the thing to get her mind off wishing for a record contract. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Just pie in the sky, that's all it is, and she might see what she's up against. It might learn her a lesson, and get her feet back on the ground. I tell you, Miz Springer," she said, shaking her head in wonder, "that girl's got her head in the clouds. You know what she wants to do? Go to Nashville, that's what. And play backup for Reba or Wynonna. Now, have you ever?" She shook her head and clicked her tongue. "I tell her, Ashley, if you got to dream, dream something you might could get.' That's why I been pushin' McDonald's. She's got a real chance at managerin' in eight or nine years, but playin' backup? Uh-uh, no way to get a manager job doin' that."

"Uh, yes, I expect you're right. But then, I don't know anything about Nashville."

"You nor me, honey!"

"Yes, well, we must be going. Mrs. Knowles," I said, getting to my feet, "I hope we can count on you to get Ashley back in the pageant. It'll be an opportunity for her to perform before an audience, and you might tell her that it'll look good on her resume if she does get to Nashville. I know you don't want to encourage that, but it might work the other way around, too." I started toward the door, but turned back to try one last time. "Do you know why she doesn't want to do it? I mean, specifically?"

"No, ma'am, I don't. Like I said, I didn't know one thing about any of it. But if I had to guess, I'd guess she took one look at the other girls in that pageant thing, and figured she didn't measure up. In the looks department, I mean. She don't much take care of herself. I tell her she ought to, but she's kinda backward that way, like she don't even want to try. I tell her to go to the Eckerd drugstore and get her some of that Oil of Olay and I'll pay for it if she don't get too much. I even tried to get her to call the Avon lady-there's one right, down the road, and I use her myself. But she won't do that, either. Says everybody'd laugh at her if she tried to be something she's not. That never stopped nobody else, so I don't know why it bothers her. Shamed of herself, seems like. What I think is this. I think some of them girls at the high school over there been mean to her, 'cause she don't ever want to be around them. I tell her she's got to be a little forward. Not too far, mind you, but a little. But she's a differunt kettle of fish, and that's the truth."