His black mustache twitched at her praise. Then he spoiled it by moving from the sensible to the ridiculous. "You'll need a Miss School Crossing Guard, too," he said, when everybody knew that crossing guards weren't sworn deputies.

Little Lloyd's face lit up. "And a Miss D.A.R.E. Officer!"

"You both better quit while you're ahead," Hazel Marie said, frowning as Little Lloyd and Mr. Pickens slapped hands. Then turning to us, she went on. "Let's think about how the squads would choose their representatives."

"Wouldn't matter," Mr. Pickens answered her. "They could do it any way they wanted, just so each squad came up with one. It could be somebody's girlfriend, or a sergeant's daughter. Whoever they wanted."

"Not a wife," Hazel Marie said, firmly. "Let's keep this for single women only."

"Oh, yeah," Mr. Pickens agreed. "You don't want that kind of trouble."

"This is perfect," Hazel Marie exclaimed, writing furiously on her pad. "I can't wait to tell Coleman. He'll love it." She looked up from her writing, and went on, "Now we need judges."

Mr. Pickens raised his hand. "I'll be one."

"No, you won't," she said, without looking at him. "Think of somebody else. Sam, what about you?"

Sam smiled and shook his head. "Better not. My lady-wife might not like it."

I straightened up at my end of the table. No, no, I thought, I didn't want to have to ask his permission for every little thing, and I didn't want him asking mine either. There's nothing worse than a weak-kneed, henpecked husband. Unless it's a mealy-mouthed doormat of a wife.

"I have absolutely no opinion on the subject," I said. "If you want to do it, Sam, then do it. You certainly don't need my permission."

"Oh, good," Hazel Marie said, writing down Sam's name. "Everybody knows how fair you are, Sam, so you'll be perfect. Now, who else? We need some women, too."

Mr. Pickens kept a straight face as he said, "What about what's-his-name, Tonya Allen?"

"That's a wonderful idea!" Hazel Marie said, her face lighting up. "I just love her, and she knows so much about fashion and what's in and what's not. I mean, with her New York background, she'll add a cosmopolitan atmosphere to the whole thing."

I was trying my best to keep my distance from the pageant planning. Having bitten off more than I could chew on any number of occasions before, I figured I'd learned my lesson. Besides, I had all I could handle with a new husband and didn't need any more problems. So, when Tonya Allen's name came up, I had to bite my tongue. Tonya was Mildred Allen's erstwhile son, Tony, who'd had an operation to rearrange certain delicate bodily areas, and was now a gingerly accepted member of the social scene in Abbotsville. After recovering from her son's sudden switch in gender, Mildred had reminded us that Tonya was a legacy and had to be inducted into all our clubs. See, that's the problem with all this modern technology-you never know whether someone belongs in the Sons or the Daughters of the American Revolution.

I couldn't help but ask, "Would Tonya count as a male or female judge?"

"Doesn't matter," Hazel Marie said, since she was so taken with Tonya and admired her taste in clothes and home decor to the extent that I worried about leaving my own house in Hazel Marie's hands. "Tonya'll be the perfect judge. Now who else? We need an odd number."

"Seems pretty odd to me, already," Mr. Pickens said.

Chapter 4.

"What kind of prize will the winner get?" I asked, as we rose from the table and made our way into Sam's small front room. I suppose you'd call it the living room, although Sam did most of his living in the large study across the hall. I took my seat in an upholstered chair, although Sam had made it clear with a cocking of his head that he'd wanted us to sit together on the sofa. But I thought it best that Hazel Marie and Mr. Pickens sit there so she could pinch him when he got too rambunctious.

"I don't know," Hazel Marie said. "What do you think?"

"I believe they're mostly scholarship prizes now," Sam said. "But that means you need money to start with. You'll have to find some heavy-hitting sponsors."

Hazel Marie frowned. "You don't think ticket sales will bring in enough?"

Sam shook his head. "No, because you'll have expenses to cover, too. And you'll want to have enough left over to buy the trained dogs that the sheriff wants."

Hazel Marie's face fell, and she put down her pen. "Oh, me, I'd forgotten about that. Buying those dogs will mean big money, and I bet we won't make enough to buy their flea collars."

Sam smiled at her. "I tell you what. I'll help you with the sponsors, and to start it off, I'll make the first contribution."

"Oh, thank you, Sam. Because I really want to present the sheriff with a big check. And have a scholarship prize, too, because that'll just elevate the whole pageant."

That got me started. "I wouldn't worry about handing out scholarships. It does me in to hear contestants say that the only reason they entered is to get money for college. But you'll notice that intelligence and aptitude tests aren't on the agenda. And to tell the truth, I don't know what a shapely pair of legs has to do with getting an education, anyway."

"I can think of a few things," Mr. Pickens said, and got another poke from Hazel Marie's elbow.

"We'll all have to help with getting sponsors," she said, tapping her pen against her mouth. "Because we'll need some more prizes, too. You know, for the first and second runners-up and so on. Like, maybe, an outfit from one of the shops downtown or a makeover from a beauty salon."

"My word, Hazel Marie," I said. "I should hope the winner wouldn't need a makeover. I'd hope she'd be as pretty as she could be, already."

"That was just a suggestion. We can come up with some more ideas as we get into it. And, Sam, we'll make a list of everybody we can think of who'd be willing to donate something for the good of the sheriff's department." Hazel Marie got a faraway look in her eyes as she considered who might be persuaded to part with a little cash.

"One thing, Hazel Marie," I warned. "Don't put Thurlow Jones on your list. He'd ruin everything."

Sam smiled at me as we heard laughter issuing from the back of the house. Little Lloyd had helped James clear the table, then had stayed in the kitchen with him and Lillian. Maybe he was what we needed to bring about a truce between the two sparring cooks.

Excusing myself on the pretext of thanking James and Lillian, I walked back to the kitchen. What I really wanted, though, was to be in the company of that child. When I pushed through the door, I found him sitting on a stool beside the large butcher block in the middle of the room. Lillian sat across from him, laughing at something I'd just missed. James leaned against a counter, a smile lighting up his face.

"Hey, Miss Julia," Little Lloyd said, turning his sweet face to me. "James was just telling us about the time he was mowing the lawn and ran over a yellow jacket nest. He said he never ran so fast in his life."

"Goodness, James," I said. "Did you get stung?"

"No more'n two dozen times," James said, laughing. "They was mad as hornets, comin' after me for all they was worth. I had a mind to run in the house, but they'd of followed me in. So I hit about sixty and turned the hose on myself. They lost some steam after that."

"Did you have to see a doctor?"

"Oh, no'm, I jus' chewed me up some tobacco and put that on 'em. Took the stingin' right out, too.'Sides, this all happened two summers ago an' I ain't had no lastin' effects from it.'Course I'm not too quick to go mowin' no lawns, neither."

"I don't blame you. Well, I just stepped in to tell you and Lillian that dinner was just perfect. You both did a fine job, but I guess you already know that from all the empty plates."

"That Mr. Pickens sho' can put it away," James said admiringly.

Lillian frowned and looked away. She didn't want to share Mr. Pickens or any of us with James.

"Lillian," I said, stepping closer to Little Lloyd so I could touch him. "Your pies were wonderful, and I hope you noticed that Sam had two pieces."

That brought a smile to her face, and a triumphant glare aimed at James.

"Anyway," I went on, "I just want to thank you both. Little Lloyd, how're you getting along in school and at home?"

"School's almost out for the summer," he said. "Home's okay, but I miss Miss Lillian's cooking. And I miss you, too, Miss Julia. It's not the same without you there."

I declare, when you teach a child good manners, you never know whether he's practicing them or telling the truth. I chose to assume he was telling the truth, and it made me wonder again at what had possessed me to give up raising this child in favor of taking another husband.

I soon returned to the living room and took my seat again, as Hazel Marie was jotting down more notes. Mr. Pickens put his arm around her and leaned close to read what she was writing and, to avoid staring at this incidence of close contact, I glanced around the room. I didn't know how Sam felt, but some changes had to be made. Not one thing had been done to the decor since his wife, I mean, his first wife, had passed. And it was past time for some refurbishing. The dining room needed it, too. There was a fine breakfront there that I would keep, but it badly needed something better behind the glass doors than stacks of mismatched china. I could picture a collection of lustrous oyster plates, for instance, or some Boehm birds or the like. As for the room we were in, I busied myself with plans to turn it into a morning room with a pastel color on the walls and a lot of chintz, plus that nice desk that no one was using in one of the guest rooms. In other words, I would make it into a room for myself, where I'd catch up with bills and my correspondence.

I bit my lip as I thought of what I'd like to do, realizing that Sam might not approve, seeing that it was his house and his furnishings. But, I reminded myself, if he wanted me to feel at home in it, then it had to be made into my house, too. I just didn't know how to approach him with the idea.

That was another problem with marrying somebody set in their ways while you were set in yours. It made me tired to think of all the complications.

"Miss Julia?" Hazel Marie gathered her notes, readying herself to leave, while Sam and Mr. Pickens went back to the kitchen for Little Lloyd. "We really need to think about a big party to celebrate your wedding. The etiquette book says that's what you're supposed to do when you have a small wedding. And they don't get any smaller than what you and Sam had."

Hazel Marie still hadn't gotten over our elopement. She said she'd been counting on being a bridesmaid again, and not even sharing our honeymoon at Dollywood had calmed her down.

"I know it's the thing to do," I said, "and I've had it on my mind. Let's get together soon and make some plans."

"Good! There's no reason we can't handle a beauty pageant and a big blowout in the same month."

By the time the three of them took their leave, Hazel Marie had several pages of her yellow legal pad covered with notes, and she was even more excited than when she'd started. Sam and I walked out onto the porch to see them off and stood watching as they went down the walk, arm in arm, to Mr. Pickens's sports car. Little Lloyd hopped into the back seat and waved to us, his face remaining like an afterimage in my mind. My spirits sank lower and lower as the car backed down the drive and roared off into the night.

"I don't know how I'm going to manage this, Sam," I said, feeling his arm slip around my waist. "I miss them so much."

"Give it time, sweetheart," he said. "It's not as if they live miles away. They're practically next door."

"Well, I know that. But I miss being with them, talking and laughing and, well, feeling at home." I didn't want to tell him, but I felt like a visitor in his house, and when you're a visitor, sooner or later you're liable to be told it's time to leave.

"I want you to feel at home here," Sam said, searching my face in the glow of the carriage lamps beside the door. "It might help if you'd move all your things here. Right now, you're practically living out of a suitcase. And, Julia, you know I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel at home."

I could certainly take that as my go-ahead to redecorate his house, but by that time I didn't have the heart for it. So, I could only nod, because I felt like crying. Homesickness, I thought, that's what this lonely feeling is. It was a wonder to me that I could put a name to a feeling I'd never had before. But once you have the affliction, you know what it is.

After a sad and lonely night, even though Sam exerted a mighty effort to distract me, I awoke with a hard resolve to try to make the best of my situation. Saint Paul said that he had learned to be content in whatsoever state he was in, and the least I could do was try to do the same.

Some might think that being Sam's wife would be enough, but, take it from me, that's a recipe for disaster. I'd lived too long with no life other than just being a wife, and had learned a bitter lesson from it. So the only thing I knew to do was start planning a complete redecoration of the house, tell Emma Sue that I would be a circle leader next year, and rejoin the garden club. Somehow I had to fill my life with something of my own.

Later that morning, as I was measuring windows for draperies, Hazel Marie called.

"Miss Julia," she said, "you're not going to believe this, but I just ruined your microwave oven. But don't worry-I've already called for a replacement. I just wanted you to know, in case you came over and saw the mess."

"What happened, Hazel Marie? Did it die on you?"

"No, it was working fine. But, see, I washed a pair of J.D.'s jeans and didn't know there was about fifty dollars in one of the pockets. And, Miss Julia, when I opened the washer after it got through spinning, there were fives and tens and ones all over the place. I thought I'd ruined that money, but it was just kind of pale and limp. And wet, of course."

"I don't understand, Hazel Marie. What does that have to do with the microwave?"

"Well, see, I wanted to get the money dry before J.D. saw it. Not that he'd get mad, but he'd laugh a lot. So I put it in the microwave to dry and, well, it exploded."

"Exploded! Hazel Marie, are you all right? My word, I can't believe that."

"Yes, well, I didn't think you would."

I hung up the phone and marched myself back to Sam's bedroom. I dragged out my suitcase and opened it on the bed, then proceeded to fill it with gowns and underclothes and personal hygiene paraphernalia. Then I took the few dresses I'd brought from home out of the closet and laid them on the bed. All I could think of was how fortunate I was not to have moved in completely.

"Julia?" Sam stood in the doorway, concern spread over his face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going home. You can stay here, or you can go with me. But either way, I'm going home before Hazel Marie blows up my house with her and that child in it."

Chapter 5.

"Wait, Julia," he said, coming over to put his hand on my arm. "Let's talk about this. Aren't you happy here with me?"

"No, sir. I am not. I need to be in my own house with my own things. Since Wesley Lloyd's been gone, I've fixed it the way I like it, and I don't want to be anywhere else."

"Well, Good Lord, woman. What about me?"

"I've already told you. You can come with me if you want to. We'll be more than glad to have you. And," I went on, rounding on him, "I will tear out walls, repaint, and get new furniture in my bedroom, so you won't feel like you're in somebody else's place."

Sam put his arms around me. "Is that what this is about? Honey, you can tear out, repaint, and replace all you want to right here. We can tear down the whole house and build another one, if that's what you want."

"Oh, Sam. It's not that, at least not all of it. I need to be with Hazel Marie and Little Lloyd, and I want to be with you, too. So the only answer is to live in my house. If you want to, that is."

"And if I don't?"

We stood almost as close as two people can get, looking into each other's eyes. I didn't cringe or blink. "Then I guess I'll be going."

"Well, hell, you put it that way, I'll get my toothbrush." And he had the audacity to start laughing before he started packing.

"You don't mind going with me?" I thought for sure he'd get mad and tell me he'd be glad to see the last of me. That would not've stopped me, but still.

"You think you can get rid of me that easy? No way, sweetheart. You pitch a tent, I'll be crawling right in beside you."

When I told Lillian we were moving back home, she let out a whoop that could've been heard down on Main Street. She helped me get my things together, and told Sam she'd come back later to pack up and move everything he wanted. She was so happy she could hardly stand it. In fact, she lifted my spirits so much that the more we loaded in the car, the better I felt. And Sam, why, he seemed just as lighthearted as the two of us. It was a wonder to me that he could take picking up and moving out of his home of so many years with hardly a second thought. The only one who wasn't happy was James, but Sam assured him that he was still needed and he was to stay on to look after the house.

"I guess I'd better call Hazel Marie," I said to Lillian. We were standing on the lawn, waiting for Sam while he discussed a few things with James. "To warn her, you know, and not just land on her out of the blue."

"Yessum, you better. No tellin' what she be up to."

As I walked into Sam's study to use the telephone, I had a moment alone to reconsider what I'd put in motion. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do, but sometimes that's not enough reason to disrupt everybody else. So far, Sam had been nothing but amenable to anything I suggested, but I had to ask myself if I was expecting too much from him. But then I recalled that within the few days that we'd been man and wife, he had changed his will, making me his primary beneficiary. And he'd done it of his own free will, for I'd known nothing about it until it was signed, sealed, and notarized. If that's not true love, I don't know what is.

I was still studying what to do about my own will. I was reluctant to replace Little Lloyd with Sam as my primary beneficiary, mainly because the child had longer to live than Sam and could make better use of an inheritance. Besides, Sam didn't need it. He had plenty of his own.