I was certainly not in the habit of throwing money around, being of a naturally frugal nature, but I had no lingering regrets over the check I'd given LuAnne. What better reason to tap my bank account than to help preserve the semblance of my marriage for a while longer? I realized, though, that to keep up appearances even for that little while, I was going to need Sam's help.

I sat down in a chair by the fireplace, wishing it was winter so I'd have a fire to warm my icy hands. I was cold inside and out, shivering, as I thought of the pitiful state I found myself in. By this time, I had become convinced that Sam had one foot out the door and would soon be taking the other one out. So, as much as it would've ordinarily frosted me to do it, I knew I had to plead with him to continue in his usual uxorious manner, at least until after we'd suffered through that travesty of a wedding reception that LuAnne was so determined to have.

After that-well, I hated to think of afterward. Sooner or later, somebody was bound to catch up with Preacher Kincaid, so we needed to be truly married by then, unless, as seemed more and more likely, Sam wanted to be rid of me. But while everything was up in the air, he could help me out by putting up a good front for the sake of our long friendship, if for no other reason. It was the least he could do, if he was any kind of gentleman at all.

That way, in spite of our earlier sleeping arrangements on a number of nights, no one would know that we'd never been married. Well, no one except Hazel Marie, Lillian, Mr. Pickens, Aaron Kincaid, Sonny Sutton and his band of investigators, the people who ran the Wedding Ring Chapel, and whoever happened to see us coming out of a motel room in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

But I couldn't worry about that now. I had to concentrate on winning Sam back, and if that failed, I'd appeal to his better nature by begging him to pretend that it was I who'd kicked him out, and not the other way around. That would be poor compensation for the humiliation of such a short-lived matrimonial contract, but it was better than everybody knowing that he'd shown me the door. Of course, there'd be gossip, and Pastor Ledbetter would preach a few sermons on the present-day lack of commitment, the sacredness of the marriage vows, and the obligation to protect traditional family values-all aimed at me. But, I could tolerate that with my head held high, as long as no one knew that it'd been Sam who'd thrown me over.

Lord, it tore me up to think of losing him. Except, it looked as if I'd already lost him, what with his cavalier attitude toward our current marital mess and his flirtatious ways with Etta Mae Wiggins. I could've wrung that woman's neck. Yet, in the few moments I was able to think clearly, I realized that when a man begins looking around, almost any woman who presents herself will do. I just wished she hadn't presented herself so willingly.

"Miss Julia!" Hazel Marie's voice sang out from the kitchen, as I heard her and the children come clattering in from the rehearsal. "We're home."

I quickly pulled myself together, standing and smoothing my dress to appear my normal composed self. Walking through the dining room and pushing through the kitchen door, I was brought up short by the sight of Miss Wiggins sitting at the table.

I managed to speak to her in a civil manner, while hoping that Sam wouldn't show up for lunch, too. He probably would if he knew where she was. Lillian and Hazel Marie were putting plates of sandwiches and bowls of soup on the table, as Little Lloyd and Latisha kept up enough chatter to prevent my having to converse with the woman.

"Etta Mae's having lunch with us," Hazel Marie said as she took glasses down from a cabinet. "The contestants will be over in a little while, so this will save us some time."

"Delighted to have you," I said to Miss Wiggins, lying through my teeth as many social occasions require. "But excuse me for a minute. There's something I forgot to do."

I beat a hasty retreat out of the kitchen and into what was supposed to have been my and Sam's bedroom. I picked up the phone and dialed the number at his house.

"Sam?" I said when he answered. "I know you're busy, and I hate to interrupt your work. But I wanted to tell you that you might want to have your lunch over there. All the contestants will be coming over, so it's going to be a madhouse here."

"Well, sure, Julia, if that's what you want."

"I'm just thinking of you, Sam. And James. It would go a long way toward helping his feelings if you ask him to make lunch for you. You know, so he won't feel that you've thrown him over in favor of someone else."

"Not likely," he said, and I could picture his smile from the tone of his voice. "But a little reassurance never hurts. I'll see you later this afternoon, then. I'll miss you, Julia."

Uh-huh, I thought as I hung up the phone. And, if I could get rid of Miss Wiggins before he came home, he'd miss her, too.

Before returning to the kitchen, I quietly hurried up the stairs to Hazel Marie's new dressing room. I found Mr. Pruitt and Willie sitting on the floor, amidst open paint cans, sawhorses, wood shavings, and sawdust, eating from their lunch boxes.

Keeping my voice down so it couldn't be heard in the kitchen below, I invited them to the pageant gala. Mr. Pruitt grinned, but shook his head. "Too long in the tooth," he said, "to be kickin' up my heels that time of a night." But Willie, who was not too long in the tooth, but rather, short of one, lit up like a lightbulb. "You reckon . . . ?"

"She'll be there. She wouldn't miss it." And having brightened his day, I went back downstairs with a feeling of satisfaction.

We sent the two children out in the backyard to play after lunch, while Miss Wiggins, Hazel Marie, and I gathered in the living room. Before long, the six contestants arrived in various stages of what appeared to me to be undress. I declare, if the fashions continued in this modern trend, there would be a lot of clothing stores going out of business. I'm not even talking about a lack of modesty, I'm talking about a lack of coverage.

But I kept my critical thoughts to myself and my eyes averted from the expanse of flesh available for viewing, if one were so inclined.

"Okay, girls," Miss Wiggins began, taking charge as she usually did. "We're going to work on your platforms today, and I hope you've all decided what yours are. The questions you'll be asked will be based on your platforms, and don't forget you'll be answering them in front of the audience. So be ready with real good answers. The judges will be scoring you on how well you answer, how poised you are in front of an audience, and how knowledgeable you are about your platform. Everybody ready?"

"Excuse me, Miss Wiggins," I broke in, "but I have an announcement to make before we get too far along."

I'd not told her and Hazel Marie about LuAnne's gala before this, being too tightly wound at lunch to do much more than show up at the table. Besides, Miss Wiggins and Latisha had done enough talking for everybody.

When I had their attention, I said, "Mr. and Mrs. Conover are having a gala celebration immediately after the pageant. It'll be in the ballroom at the country club, and you're all invited. In fact, you may consider this your official invitation. Your parents're invited, too."

My announcement created an excited stir among the contestants. All of them, except for Ashley, who sat off to the side, turned to each other, talking and whispering to such an extent that I feared their platforms had flown out of their heads.

Melanie Easley turned to me. "Can we bring our boyfriends?"

"Yes, I think that would be acceptable. All of you will be guests of honor, especially, of course, the new Miss Sheriff's Department of Abbot County." Of course, there wasn't an old Miss Sheriff's Department, but that was neither here nor there. "We'll have a light supper and then dancing afterward, so I hope you'll all plan to come straight from the auditorium." I glanced to my side where Miss Wiggins was sitting. "You're invited, too, Miss Wiggins, along with everybody who's helped with the pageant. Willie Pruitt, too, I'm happy to say."

"Oh, Miss Julia," Hazel Marie exclaimed, "that's wonderful! I bet you had something to do with it, didn't you?"

"Well," I said, trying to hide a smile at being caught out, "maybe a little. But it was Mrs. Conover's idea, and I think it'll cap off the pageant quite nicely."

"Okay, girls," Miss Wiggins said, attempting to regain control of the meeting. "Girls! Listen, now. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to divide you into two groups of three and three. While one group stays in here with Miss Julia to work on the questions you'll get, the other will go with Hazel Marie to work on hair and makeup. Then we'll swap. I'll be going from one group to the other, helping out where I can. Hazel Marie, where do you want to take them?"

Before she could answer, I quickly intervened. "Take them upstairs to your room, Hazel Marie, where all your beauty aids are. That way, you'll have them close to hand."

She rose from her chair, saying, "That'd be easier than carting everything down here, especially since it's not so noisy up there today."

"The carpenters won't disturb you," I said. "They're painting now." And, though I didn't say it, with Miss Wiggins going in and out, Willie would have a chance to press his suit.

"Melanie," Hazel Marie said, "let's you, Tasha, and Heather go up and get started. Etta Mae, I'll need you to help me lay out all the stage makeup. Then you can come back down and see how Miss Julia's doing."

As I started to say there was no need for anybody to be checking on me, I bit my lip and held back. The three contestants, Hazel Marie, and Miss Wiggins took themselves upstairs, leaving me alone with Bethany LaVane, YoShandra Washington, and poor, nervous Ashley Knowles.

Hoping to give Ashley time to get herself together, I started with Miss Washington, who seemed to have a full measure of self-confidence. "Shandra, let's start with you. Tell us what your platform is."

Shandra leaned forward with a bright smile on her face. "Child Abuse Prevention!"

"Well," I said, taken aback by her enthusiasm. "That's certainly a worthwhile cause. Let's say you're asked what you would do to prevent child abuse. How would you answer?"

"I'd say that I'd go into the schools and tell children how to prevent it." She gave me another big smile, pleased with her response.

"But," I pressed, "just how would you tell a child to prevent it? Give some details, so the judges will see that you know your subject."

"Well," she said, more hesitant now that she was put on the spot. "Well, I'd say that, let me see now, I guess they could tell their teacher? Yes, they could tell their teacher. Oh, I know. They could tell a sheriff's deputy! That'd tie in with the pageant, wouldn't it?" She sat back, regaining her confident smile, satisfied with her quick thinking.

"Yes, I suppose it would, although I'm not sure that reporting abuse does much in the way of preventing it. That's more like stopping it, once it's started. I think you need to look into this a little more, Shandra. Maybe talk to some of the deputies who see so much of it."

That idea appealed to her. "I could do that. I know a couple of deputies already."

"Good. Now tell us, in case you're asked, what your ambition is. What do you plan to do with your life?"

"Well, I still may run for president someday, but right now, I'm going to college and study to be a television anchorperson. They can do so much good, you know."

Well, no, I didn't know, since it seemed to me that all that position required was an ability to read what someone else had written and change expressions accordingly. And look good, of course.

"All right. Now, Bethany," I said, turning to Miss LaVane, "what is your platform?"

I steeled my nerves for Miss LaVane's halting country twang, but she surprised me with a ready response. "My platform's gonna be Skin Cancer Prevention and Awareness, and I'm gonna talk about the dangers of tanning beds and getting too much sun, like when you're fishin' or layin' out gettin' a tan. I'm gonna talk about SPF's, 'cause they ought to be at least fifteen and maybe even higher to prevent this terrible disease from ruining somebody's life. And then I'll tell about a woman I heard about who had a little skin cancer right here on her face. The doctor took it off, but five years later, she come down with liver cancer, which just goes to show, don't it?"

"I suppose so," I murmured, but it seemed to me that she had her medical facts mixed up. Then again, perhaps too much sun did play havoc with the liver. I mean, why else did liver spots pop up on your hands?

Miss LaVane had spoken with assurance and poise, though, and as I've always said, appearances do matter, although, I admit, often to the detriment of substance. Still and all, I said, "Since your time will be limited, I think, if I were you, I'd leave off the example. Now, you said earlier that you wanted to either go to medical school or learn how to do facials. I hope you've narrowed it down a little, so if you get a question about your life plans, how would you answer it?"

"My life plans? Well, I guess the first thing I want to do is graduate from high school. See, I have to go an extra year, 'cause of too many absences. So, it don't look like I'll make it to medical school."

"You don't need to go into that much detail," I said, trying to guide her into a halfway sensible answer. "Just tell us what you see yourself doing in, say, five years."

"Oh, well, that's easy. I'll probably have two or three kids by then. And, you know, I'll be helping others all I can, too. I think that's important, don't you?"

"Indeed. But, Bethany, you need to give a little more thought to your answer. You should give some specifics-like, just how you would help others. Think in terms of volunteer work and that sort of thing, if you're planning to have a family."

"Sure, I can do that. Whatever the judges want, I can do."

"Good," I said, trying not to roll my eyes at such supreme self-confidence.

Then I turned to Ashley.

Chapter 40.

A burst of laughter from upstairs reminded me to hurry and finish before the others came down. At this point in my carefully planned campaign to help Ashley give a good showing, she didn't need a larger audience than the one she already had.

Fearing a stumbling, hesitant answer from her, I steeled myself and asked, "Ashley, have you decided on your platform?"

"Yes, ma'am, I think so." She fastened her eyes on me, trying mightily to ignore the interested and somewhat amused gazes of Miss Washington and Miss LaVane. "I don't know exactly how to say it, but maybe something about music appreciation."

I thought that was going to be it, but she surprised me by brushing the hair out of her face, and explaining further. "But I don't mean all music. I mean just old ballads and mountain songs and things like that."

"Why, Ashley," I said, "I think that's a marvelous idea, and you certainly know your subject. Why don't we call it Our Mountain Musical Heritage? How does that sound?"

She smiled. "Real good."

"All right," I went on, pleased that she'd come through so well. "And what are your plans for the future?"

"Just to keep on playing music, I guess."

"Let's do better than that, Ashley. Why don't you say something like, I plan to continue learning as much as I can about our musical heritage, and-"

"Oh, wait," she said, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a pad and pencil. "Okay, go ahead."

"Well," I said, somewhat taken aback at being transcribed as I spoke. "You could say that you are collecting old songs and melodies. If you are, that is. And that you plan to record them for posterity. And you might also mention that you hope to play professionally someday."

She scribbled it all down, then gave me a smile that beamed through the lanky tresses across her face. I was glad I hadn't mentioned that she wanted to play backup for some country music star. No need to give the others more ammunition for ridicule.

There was a sudden clatter on the stairs as the first group, all coiffed and beautified, rejoined us. Of course, my group had to ooh and aah over each one, while Hazel Marie stood by glowing in the compliments on her handiwork. And they did look good, although the farther away one stood from the heavily made-up faces, the better they looked. But that was the object of the exercise, I supposed.

I looked around and, not seeing my rival for Sam's affections, asked, "Where's Miss Wiggins?"

Hazel Marie smiled. "Talking with Willie. She'll be down in a minute."

"She doesn't need to hurry. Why don't you take the other group on up and join her? And Hazel Marie," I went on, drawing her aside, "Ashley Knowles is going to need your particular expertise. I wish you'd take her by yourself, and let Miss Wiggins work on Shandra and Bethany."

"I will. I can't wait to get my hands on her." Then turning to the others, she said, "Okay, girls. Let's go on up."

So I was left with Heather Peavey, Melanie Easley, and Tasha McKenzie, all with burnished, glowing, and glossy faces under coiled, curled, or upswept hairdos. I took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Settle down now, girls, and let's get started. Heather, if you get a question about your platform, how will you answer?"

Miss SWAT Team squirmed in her chair and twisted her mouth, as she gathered her thoughts. "Well, I guess I'm going for physical fitness, though maybe I ought to call it something else, since that's the name of the bathing suit competition. I think I'll call it Strong Minds in Strong Bodies. How does that sound? Because I'm interested in coaching young people, and it takes a strong mind to learn some of the rules. Especially soccer."

"That sounds fine," I said, not knowing one sport from another, much less the rules they were played by. "So what do you see yourself doing in a few years' time?"

"Being the women's volleyball coach at Chapel Hill," she declaimed without a moment's hesitation. "Y'all just better watch me, 'cause that's what I'm going to do." Then she gave us a big smile, leaving little doubt that she would.

"Excellent," I said, and meant it, too, since I was relieved that she'd not repeated her earlier ambition of replacing Sheriff Frady. "Now, Melanie, what about you? Tell us about your platform."

Miss Easley squeezed her eyes shut in concentration, then blurted out, "I can't decide! It's between Animal Protection, 'cause I kinda want to be a veterinarian, and Pain Prevention, 'cause I'm thinking about chiropractic, too. But I could say something about dancing, since I want to keep on doing that. What do y'all think?"

I opened my mouth to give her some guidance, but Tasha McKenzie beat me to it. "Oh," she said, with a careless wave of her hand, "do Animal Protection, and say something about the need for spaying and leashing and so on. Chiropractic pain prevention is too close to Heather's platform, since they both have to do with muscles and things."

"Okay, that sounds good," Miss Easley readily agreed. Then, to me, "What she said."

"So what do you see yourself doing in several years' time?"

"Well, I guess I ought to stick to my platform and say I'll be active in the SPCA, and maybe own a dog-grooming business. And, you know what?" She stopped as a new idea struck her. "There're some new programs out now that teach you how to do massages and stuff to sick animals. You know, like old dogs with arthritis? That'd tie in with my interest in chiropractic, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would," I said, striving with all my might not to say what I really thought. "I'm sure that'll be fine, Melanie. Now, Tasha, let's hear your platform." Then I mentally girded myself for a replay of the girl's wide-ranging ambitions.

"My platform is Commitment to Christian Character," she said, surprising me with her brevity. "And I see myself in a few years' time as a witness to my faith in schools, churches, and on the mission field. With all I intend to accomplish with my various talents and abilities, I plan to serve as a role model of Christian character to young people everywhere."

"Very well said, Tasha," I said, and it was. What it wasn't, though, was anywhere near realistic.

Since my second group went faster than the first, maybe because I knew more about what I was doing, we finished before the others came down. Lillian, who always kept up with what was going on in the house, brought out a tray of lemonade and cookies, which made a nice break while we waited.

Before long, Bethany and YoShandra, fully made up and looking like models, if you could overlook their casual attire, joined us in the living room. The girls admired each other and themselves, preening in front of the mirror over the sideboard in the dining room. Miss Wiggins, having finished whatever she'd been doing, came down with them. She took a glass of lemonade and a seat beside me. She seemed to be smiling to herself and quite pleased about something. I hoped it had been Willie who'd put the smile on her face.

Turning to me, she said, "Hazel Marie'll be down in a minute. She's still working on Ashley."

"I assumed that was the case. How's Ashley looking?"