She nodded, and headed for the stage. I stood and watched, vaguely wondering where Miss Wiggins was, while Hazel Marie went over the instructions again.

When Ashley reached the stage, I saw three of the girls put their heads together and begin whispering. They cut their eyes at Ashley, then whispered again.

Tasha McKenzie tossed her head and said loudly enough for me to hear, "I don't think it's fair for some people to get special attention. If you can't do it on your own, you shouldn't do it at all."

Bethany LaVane glared at Ashley, agreeing with Tasha, but not having the nerve to come out and say so.

Melanie Easley said, "Oh, leave her alone. She's just that much less competition."

I don't think Hazel Marie heard them, but she knew they weren't paying attention to her. "Girls, girls, get backstage, now, and let's run through it one more time. Where's Etta Mae?"

I looked around, but didn't see her, so I went up the aisle to find a good seat from which to direct Ashley when her turn came. As I started to enter a row of seats, I caught a glimpse of Sam out in the foyer, deep in conversation with someone. My heart gave an extra thump, and I started toward him. I did so want to see him, and in my sudden joy at just a glimpse of him, I was about to forget all the plans I'd made the night before.

So I hesitated, torn between the urge to tell him off before he told me off and the urge to run out there and hug his neck. While I vacillated, not knowing my own heart, I saw him smile at someone, then throw his head back and laugh. He was certainly enjoying himself, and not at all in a hurry to find me.

I moved across the aisle to get a better look, and wished I hadn't. Etta Mae Wiggins! There she was laughing up at him as they shared-shared-some pleasurable communication.

I slid into a seat, overcome with anger and humiliation. He couldn't even wait until he'd put me aside to go after her. He was already making plans with someone who was no more than a common flirt. Oh, the shame of it. The words of Ashley's song popped into my head, Alas, my love, you do me wrong, and it was all I could do to hold myself together. I felt my face flush, as perspiration popped out all over me. I'd need a bath as soon as I got home, and I would've left that second if I hadn't had to walk past them. And if I hadn't promised Ashley to direct her from afar.

As the first girl pranced down the runway, with Hazel Marie standing in for Etta Mae, who was just too busy to do her job, I tried valiantly to compose myself so nobody would know how shaken I was.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Miss Wiggins ran down the aisle toward the stage, laughing. Just so pleased with herself, after throwing herself at Sam, who was more than willing to catch her.

I could've strangled her. But just then, Ashley's name was announced and she walked out to center stage, slouching and hiding behind her hair.

I put my mind to the work at hand, determined not to let Sam and his new ladyfriend keep me from preserving my good name. That good name might always be Springer, but it didn't have to be spread all over creation, along with Sonny Sutton's, to be held up for ridicule.

Just as Ashley stepped onto the runway, she brushed one side of her hair aside, her eyes darting from one side of the auditorium to the other until they lit on me. I nodded at her, and put on a big smile that nearly killed me. She managed a small one in return. Then I stretched out my neck, lifting my head in an exaggerated manner, and saw her lift hers, too. As she began her walk, I sat up stiffly in my seat and threw my shoulders back, which served to put my top section in bold relief-all done to remind her to stand up straight and walk proudly.

Sitting there too straight to touch the back of the seat, with my chest poked out in military fashion, sending silent signals to Ashley, I felt Sam slide into the seat next to me.

"Julia," he whispered, his eyes on the uplifted part of my person. "I am so glad to be home."

Chapter 35.

Gritting my teeth, I maintained my rigid posture until Ashley took her place with the other contestants at the side of the stage. As soon as I let down, she did too, so I had to keep bobbing my chin up and down to remind her that she was still on view. Just making it through her promenade without mishap wasn't nearly enough.

Sam tried to take my hand, whispering, "What's wrong, Julia? Having trouble with your neck?"

"No, I'm not having trouble with my neck. Don't distract me, Sam. I'm in the middle of directing Ashley in her comportment, and she needs my full attention."

I kept my eyes on the object of my instruction, lest one look into his blue ones did me in. It was all I could do not to get down on my knees, regardless of the dirty floor, and beg him to reconsider his decision to take his freedom and run. It tore me up to think that he was being taken in by that little twit in tight blue jeans.

"Well, by doggies, Julia," he said, trying to jolly me up. "I thought you'd be happy to see me. Here, I've been gone for so long and you're acting like you didn't even miss me."

"Oh, I missed you all right. Missed you so much that I've been a nervous wreck these past few days when you couldn't find the time to call."

"I'm sorry about that, but Sonny had us on the move. He has investigators looking for Kincaid, and they were calling in with different reports every hour. I was hoping to have something definite to tell you, but, well, I don't."

"That's too bad." I could've told him what Sonny Sutton and all his investigators hadn't found out, but I didn't. As long as Sam thought we might be married, he'd stick around. He was too much of a gentleman not to. If I could keep him in the dark long enough to inveigle my way back into his heart, maybe he'd want to marry me again. And the next time, if we got to that point, I'd make sure it was done right.

But the whole mess so overcame me with grief that I had to widen my eyes to keep the tears from flooding out. I sniffed and began looking for a Kleenex in my pocketbook. "Allergy season," I mumbled.

"Why don't we get out of here?" he said. "Let's go home where we can decide what we want to do."

Decide what we want to do? I knew what he wanted to do. His dalliance with Etta Mae Wiggins out in the foyer proved to me that he already considered himself all but free of any marital restraints.

I blew my nose. "I can't go home yet. Hazel Marie and Ashley need me here."

"I need you, too, Julia." He reached for my hand again, and I let him take it. He was so close, and smelling as fragrant as Mr. Pickens, that I was too weak to resist.

"Oh, Ashley, no," I whispered, suddenly brought back to the task at hand. The girl was standing alongside the other contestants with her shoulders drooping and her head down. I wanted to run up and tell her that she was drawing more attention to herself by being so different from the others. The idea was to blend in, even if that meant displaying herself in an unnatural manner. And they all looked unnatural to me, standing up there with locked knees, held-in stomachs, and plastered-on smiles. Except for Ashley, of course.

With a few delicate hand motions, I finally got her attention, and she made an effort to stand up straight. But by that time, she'd allowed her hair to fall down in her face, and she kept it that way.

"I'm going to get Hazel Marie onto that girl's hair, if it's the last thing I do," I said.

Sam leaned over to nuzzle my neck. "I hope it's not the last thing you do."

"Sam! Behave yourself," I said, jerking away from him. "People are watching."

I couldn't understand him. What was the purpose in getting all lovey when he'd already planned to throw me over? Just to let me down easy?

Well, I didn't intend to go down easy. And if I had anything to say about it, which I did, he just might have to make a few new plans.

When we all got home-in separate cars since we'd gone that way-Sam took my arm and said, "Let's go upstairs, Julia, where we can talk."

About that time, the Pruitts began a flurry of hammering upstairs, and Lillian began banging pots and pans in the kitchen. It was a din in stereo, and not at all conducive to an in-depth discussion of our sorry situation.

"Let me see what's wrong with Lillian," I said, unhanding myself, not at all eager to hear what he had to tell me. "When there's noise from the kitchen, I know she's upset about something."

Sam followed me as I pushed through the door from the dining room. I could tell, even without the noisy prologue, that Lillian was in a stew of major proportions. Instead of her usual cheerful countenance, her face was wrinkled with a deep frown and a downturned mouth. She crashed a lid on a pot, and turning to throw a pot holder into the sink, she stepped out of one of her slippers with the run-over heels. I thought she was going to break down and cry.

"Lillian," I said, hurrying over to her, "what's happened? What's the matter with you?"

She faced the sink and leaned against it, her head down in despair, unaware that Sam was in the room. "It's that James. He been over here, tellin' me Mr. Sam tired of my cookin' an' he movin' back home. That's not so, is it, Miss Julia?"

"Well . . ." I shot Sam a quick glance, not knowing what to tell her, because I didn't know, myself.

Lillian gave me a pleading look. "I don't want to be the cause of Mr. Sam leavin' you. If he don't like my cookin', I can change. You know I can."

Sam walked over and nearly gave her a heart attack. She gasped when she realized that he'd heard it all. "Oh, Mr. Sam, don't leave us. I do better, I promise I will."

"Lillian, Lillian," Sam said, his easy smile and soft touch calming her down. "There's not a better cook anywhere than you. I wouldn't have you change a thing, and I'm going to have a word or two with James-you can count on that."

She wiped a tear from her cheek and tried to smile. "That man after me all the time, first one thing an' another, makin' me so mad I don't know what to do. You know what he say? He say he need to look after you so you pick Shandra Washington for the canine deputy queen. An' my cookin' do nothin' but give you a stomachache so you won't like her."

"Good Lord, Lillian," Sam said, laughing. "How could you believe such nonsense? What I eat won't have a thing to do with the way I judge a beauty contest. James is just trying to get to you, and I don't want you to pay any attention to anything he says. Look at me, now. I love your cooking, and I hope I'm here for a long, long time to eat it."

She gave him a weak smile, wiped her face again, and tried to believe him. I tried to, too. But if food wouldn't sway his vote for Miss Washington, what would incline him toward Miss Knowles?

Hazel Marie pushed through the kitchen door. "Miss Julia, we need you in the living room. You, too, Sam. Etta Mae's here, and we have to decide on the program."

I shot a quick look at Sam to see if his eyes lit up at the thought of Miss Wiggins's presence, but he was still reassuring Lillian. "I thought the program was already decided," I said. "What else is there to do?"

"We have to have more than just the beauty pageant. I mean, since there're only six contestants, we need some entertainment to make the evening worthwhile. If people're going to spend money on a ticket, they'll expect to get their money's worth."

"I hope you know we're going to be hard-pressed to find additional entertainment in this town." I started out with her, but then turned back. "Sam, I don't expect you're interested in this, so why don't you keep Lillian company."

"Oh, yes, he is," Hazel Marie said. "Come on, Sam. You may have some ideas we haven't thought of."

So, in he went-into the living room, where that man-hungry woman was just waiting to turn his head and sink her claws into him.

And there she was, sitting in one of the Victorian chairs by the fireplace, making herself as comfortable as you please. I pressed my lips together, nodded at her, and headed for the sofa. "Sit here, Sam," I said, patting a place next to me. I was determined to get the upper hand and not relinquish it. He wasn't free yet, and I meant to make sure they both knew it.

He spoke to her, calling her Etta Mae with a warmth that set my teeth on edge. I took his hand and held it, in spite of his raised eyebrows at the public display of affection, which usually did not meet with my approval. But there're a lot of things you do, which you might not ordinarily do, when the odds are against you.

"Okay," Hazel Marie said breezily, as she took the chair opposite Miss Wiggins and looked through her pages of notes. "Here's the thing. We need something before the girls are introduced, you know, just to get things started. I'm thinking that this would be a good place for Lieutenant Peavey to sing something."

"That'd be good," Miss Wiggins said before I could open my mouth. Actually, I was going to agree, but she didn't give me a chance. So I sat back and just listened.

"What could he sing?" Hazel Marie asked. "Any suggestions?"

Miss Wiggins was quick on the draw again. "Well, first, we'd better be sure he can sing whatever we pick out."

Sam laughed with her, and I edged a little closer to him. To remind him, you know.

"Well, I talked to him," Hazel Marie said, "and told him we'd want something that would fit in with a beauty queen theme."

"Lord, yes," Miss Wiggins said, giggling. "It'd be awful if he got up there and sang something like Maggie May.' "

Sam thought that was one of the funniest things he'd ever heard, but I didn't see the humor since I didn't know Maggie May from Sara Lee. I rubbed my thumb over his hand to regain a little attention.

Sam squeezed my hand, then said, "How about something like Shining Star'? That'd fit with your theme, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, yes," Miss Wiggins said, eagerly. "That's one of my favorite songs, Sam. I'm so glad you know it."

Sam? Sam? Where was the Mr. that would indicate the respect someone her age should show him? Lord, had they gotten so far as to be on a first-name basis? I watched with my heart in my throat as they smiled at each other, enjoying a common bond. I turned Sam's hand loose and looped my arm through his, pressing him close. She wasn't going to have him without a fight, I didn't care how many song preferences they shared.

Sam looked at me with a quizzical expression, the remnants of the smile he'd bestowed on Miss Wiggins lingering at the corners of his mouth. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Okay," Hazel Marie said. "That's decided, but we need something else. Oh, I almost forgot-Lieutenant Peavey'll sing the final song when the winner is crowned and she makes her triumphal walk down the runway. What do you think that should be?"

" Pretty Woman'!" Miss Wiggins said. "That's what the band'll be playing all through the contest, so we could end it with him singing the words. Oh, I wonder if he could do it like Roy Orbison. That would be so cool."

"Well, you know," Hazel Marie said, tapping a pencil against her mouth. "I wonder if we shouldn't switch it around. Have him sing Pretty Woman' first, because it's so fast and exciting. You know, to get everybody eager for the show. Then do Shining Star' for the winner's walk, since it's so uplifting."

"That's perfect," Miss Wiggins said. "Or listen, how about Amazed By You'? That's a great song, and was number one for weeks and weeks. Let's suggest that to him, too, and see which one he likes the best. What about you, Sam? You like that one?"

"Either one would be fine," he said. "But you'll need to check with the band, too. Be sure what they can play."

I sat there, wondering why they'd wanted me in on this planning session. I'd not contributed a single, solitary thing, nor had Miss Wiggins given me a chance to.

"All right," Hazel Marie went on, "that's settled. But I think we need something to kill the time while the judges're making their decision. Think of something else."

"You forgot something," Miss Wiggins said. "Sheriff Frady wants to say a few words."

I rolled my eyes at the thought, but Hazel Marie said, "I'm putting him at the very first. We'll let him welcome the crowd and tell a little about what the winner will do for the department. That'll be enough, don't you think?"

"It will be," Sam said, "if you don't give him too much time. He'll give a campaign speech if you're not careful."

"I've told him ten minutes, and not a second over. Everybody's going to be so excited for the pageant to begin that they're not going to listen too long. Besides, the canine unit comes right after him, so he'll hurry along before that dog gets antsy. Okay, now think, everybody. What can we have while the judges are deciding?"

We all sat and thought, and Sam absentmindedly stroked my arm. But his eyes were on Miss Wiggins as she twisted and squirmed in her chair. She was one of those people who couldn't sit still. Drawing attention to herself, don't you know. But by that time, I was so close to Sam that if I'd moved another inch, I'd have been in his lap.

"How 'bout this?" Sam said, leaning forward so that I almost fell into the space he'd vacated. "Have you heard Latisha do This Little Light of Mine'? She sang it for me one time, along with a lot of hand motions, and she was cute as she could be. With the voice she has, she'd knock the roof off."

"Who's Latisha?" Miss Wiggins asked.

Hazel Marie spoke up. "She's Lillian's great-granddaughter, and she's just darling. She's-what-five, six years old? Sam, I think that'd be great. Everybody would love her, and she'd add sort of a family atmosphere, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Miss Wiggins said, a frown of doubt wrinkling her forehead, which I could've told her was bad for the skin. I didn't, though. "But five years old? What if she gets scared and starts crying or something?"

"Oh, you don't know Latisha," Sam said, laughing. "She'd be in her element on that stage. You'll have to meet her, Etta Mae. I'll get you two together, and you'll see."

Oh, Lord, a flash of pain surged through my chest and I thought I was having a seizure. He was making plans to meet Miss Wiggins with only Latisha to chaperone, which was no chaperone at all. And doing it right in front of my eyes. If I'd had any doubt as to where his interest now lay, I didn't anymore.

Chapter 36.

After Miss Wiggins left, and the Pruitts backed their truck out of the driveway at quitting time, and we'd finished supper, I knew I wouldn't be able to put Sam off much longer. All afternoon, he kept coming up to me, saying, "We need to talk, Julia," and I kept saying, "It's not a good time." So, now that things had settled down, there was nothing for it but to hear him out, at least until right before he got to the final words that would put the nails in my coffin.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him that he was a bachelor again, and that I'd heard it straight from that above-the-law preacher, himself. The only delaying tactic I could think of was to keep the conversation on the pageant, specifically Ashley's chances of winning the crown.