"Well, let's say it's a real change from the original." Miss Wiggins gave a little laugh, offending me since I had become so defensive of Miss Knowles. "But, you know, I always like to help someone who really needs it. The results can be so startling."

And, indeed, they were. Hazel Marie came down the stairs, with Ashley coming hesitantly behind her. Now, I'm not going to say that the girl took my breath away with a suddenly revealed beauty, because she didn't. Still, the transformation was remarkable. Hazel Marie had put Ashley's hair up in a thick coil on the back of her head. That alone went a long way toward making her a viable contestant for the pageant crown. The expertly applied makeup, especially around the eyes, made her seem a different girl altogether. I couldn't believe the contrast between her present appearance and what Lillian and I had accomplished with our amateur applications. I smiled to myself, thinking of telling Lillian that our school for beauty do-overs had to be put on hold until we'd mastered a few of Hazel Marie's magical techniques.

Miss Washington and Miss Peavey lavished compliments on Ashley, making her blush, but pleasing her, too. The other girls made an effort to say something nice, but I could tell they were none too happy about the added competition. Too bad, I thought.

"Hazel Marie," I said, drawing her aside. "My compliments. You have outdone yourself with that girl."

"She does look good, doesn't she? I told her that she should wear her hair up for the Physical Fitness and Beauty and Poise competitions, but it ought to be down, you know, flowing down her back, when she sings behind the scrim. Then if it falls in her face, nobody'll see it."

The doorbell rang just then, and Hazel Marie leaned over to look out the window. "Oh, look. It's the UPS man."

There was an immediate buzz of excitement among the girls, as they flocked around Hazel Marie when she opened the door. A young man, tanned and muscular in his brown summer uniform, said, "Got a delivery for you. Sign here, please."

Hazel Marie took his electronic clipboard, signed her name, and looked out the door at the package by his feet. "They're here! Oh, I can't wait to see them."

The UPS man said, "Better let me set it inside for you. It's heavy."

Hazel Marie stepped back to let him heave the large carton inside and set it on the floor. The girls watched in silence, but I didn't know if it was in anticipation of opening the box or from the sight of such shapely masculine extremities.

It didn't matter, for he was soon gone, hopping into his delivery van and heading off to his next stop. Attention then centered on the box, which Hazel Marie quickly tore into with the letter opener from my desk.

"Oh, my goodness!" She began pulling out one filmy and sequined garment after another. The contestants clustered around her, reaching out and calling, "That's mine!" and "I ordered the blue!" and "Dang! Look at that red one!"

Evening gowns. That's what they were, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. If Hazel Marie had bought them all, I needed to speak to her about fiscal responsibility.

She must've known what I was thinking, because she edged up to me and said, "They're rented, Miss Julia. Each and every one of them, because I knew some of the girls couldn't afford to buy an evening dress. So Etta Mae and I decided that they should all get a dress from the same place, so one wouldn't come up with something real expensive, and another with something homemade on a Singer."

That made me feel a whole lot better, and I was gratified at Hazel Marie's concern for those contestants who would've been outclassed in the Beauty and Poise competition.

Finally, the last of the girls were gone amid a great deal of chatter over their new faces and new gowns. Hazel Marie, Miss Wiggins, and I sat down for a few minutes of recuperation. And for another glass of lemonade. The respite was refreshing, for I was not accustomed to so much going and coming, and talking and giggling, on a slow summer afternoon.

The other two must have felt the same way, because we all sat in silence for some little while.

Just as I was beginning to wonder if Miss Wiggins was ever going to leave, she said, in a musing sort of way, "Have you ever wondered why they all have such great legs?"

"Who?" I asked.

Hazel Marie sputtered behind her napkin. "UPS men, Miss Julia. Didn't you notice?"

"Certainly not," I said, with a little sniff. "Besides, those were a little on the hairy side."

Hazel Marie and Miss Wiggins doubled over, laughing. I was finally able to join their amusement, surprised to find myself feeling somewhat companionable toward Miss Wiggins.

Miss Wiggins wiped her eyes, still smiling. Then with another laugh, she said, "Wonder if great legs is a job requirement. If it is, I'd like to be the personnel officer."

"I'd go for quality control," Hazel Marie said, and that set them off again.

Chapter 41.

I smiled along with them, because I appreciated a pair of finely turned limbs as well as the next person. But, it was the pair of finely turned limbs on the man I'd tried to marry that was concerning me.

And I must say that as the pageant drew nearer, it was all I could do to keep up the appearance of excitement and interest in it. And even the little I managed to exhibit was only for Ashley's sake. Without my agreement with her uncle, I wouldn't have given two flips about who won the crown and who didn't. Keeping, or rather, getting a husband just about took up all my thinking.

And Sam? Well, he spent most of every day over at his house, working on that legal history of the county that nobody would ever read. Oh, I'm sure that the library would want a copy, and maybe a few students would eventually consult it. But let's face it, it wasn't going to be a national bestseller. But I didn't voice my opinion on the subject, not wanting to discourage him or nip his enthusiasm in the bud. It's always good for a retired man to have a hobby or some interest that takes him out of the house.

The problem was, it was taking him out of my house more than I wanted him out. And I was beginning to fear that that was exactly what he had in mind. He was as gentlemanly and as seemingly affectionate as he'd ever been, but I could read between the lines. He'd said he was giving me time to think about what we should do, and he'd said he didn't want to rush me. Well, I could've stood a little rushing.

Instead, he'd say things like, "Julia, I'm missing you." But if that was the case, where was he all day long? Not with me, I'm here to tell you. And when he sat by me on the sofa after supper, he'd take my hand and whisper, "You been thinking about me, Julia?" What did he think I'd been doing? What I wanted to know was who he'd been thinking of. Or, he'd sidle up to me when no one was around and say, "How about we slip off to the bedroom for a little while?" Which just tore me up, because he'd already turned me down when I'd suggested the same thing.

But the worst was when he'd say, "I don't mean to rush you, Julia, but I'm getting awfully lonesome." Now, wasn't that a warning that he was looking around, and it wasn't at me?

At any point, he could've said, "I'm tired of thinking. Let's get married, and do it for real this time." But he didn't.

So, why didn't I take the bull by the horns, fling my arms around his neck, and say I would never let him go? Why wasn't I willing to grab his hand and run over to Pastor Ledbetter's study, demanding a wedding ceremony right then and there? The average woman in my state of mind would've done just that, but I wasn't your average woman. For one thing, I could interpret the double meaning in everything Sam said, which meant that he didn't mean half of what he said. And for another, I was paralyzed at the thought of what the pastor would say, and do, if he learned we needed remarrying.

If I could just get through the pageant with my head held high, and if I could talk Sam into keeping up the pretense a while longer, then I'd either win him over or have to let him go.

I didn't know what to do. We couldn't pick up and go off somewhere to get married, not without missing the pageant. And if I missed the pageant, Ashley might miss her chance, and her uncle would send out a press release with our names on it. All I could think was that in a few days the thing would be over. Then I'd be able to give my full attention to reclaiming what I was about to lose. And, on top of wooing Sam, I had my hands full with all the little jobs Hazel Marie had for me to do.

"Miss Julia," Hazel Marie called before she appeared in the door of my bedroom. "Guess what? Binkie's going to emcee the pageant."

"She'll certainly do a good job," I said, trying to work up a little enthusiasm. "Binkie's never at a loss for words, and she has all that experience in a courtroom, too. But I thought Miss Wiggins would be the announcer."

"Oh, goodness no. I need her backstage, helping the girls get ready. They have to change several times, and their hair'll have to be fixed over and over. And somebody's going to have to see that they get out on the stage at the right time. It's going to be chaos. Just chaos." She flopped down in a chair across from me and closed her eyes. "I am wiped out. There're so many things to think about and plan for, and I keep thinking I've forgotten something."

"I don't see how, Hazel Marie. You've got the pageant organized down to the last contingency. I'd think by now you could relax and enjoy it."

"All I can think of is that something'll go wrong."

"It probably will," I said, "but you can't plan for everything. And, look at it this way. If anything goes wrong, the audience will likely never know. Or if they do, they'll get a big kick out of it. You know how people are."

"Yes, well, that's the trouble. I do know how they are, and if anybody messes up, that'll be all they remember." She frowned, twisting her mouth with the effort.

Thinking to distract her from worry, I asked, "Mr. Pickens will be there, won't he?"

That created a deeper frown. "He better be. I declare, his business is growing by leaps and bounds. Everybody wants him to work for them, because he's so good at finding people and investigating fraud and all those things. I'm proud of him, but looks like he could spare a little time for me."

I smiled. "You've been busy, yourself, here lately. But, Hazel Marie, take my advice. Don't get too busy for him. Men just naturally have a short attention span, and you have to keep reminding them all the time which side their bread's buttered on. I don't want you to get into the situation I'm in, neither one thing nor the other."

"Oh, Miss Julia," she said, leaning across and patting my arm. "I know you're having a hard time, and I appreciate all the help you've been to me. I just wish you'd get over worrying about what people will think and go ahead and tie Sam up good."

I sighed, grateful for her concern, but knowing she didn't understand. "What good would it do to tie him up, good or not, when I'm not sure he wants to be tied? There's nothing worse than holding on to a man who doesn't want to be held, as I've told myself a million times or more."

"But Sam does! You know he does!"

"Hazel Marie, you don't know all the ins and outs of what I've been going through. But, as soon as the pageant's over and I can get Sam's nose out of his book, I'm going to get things settled, once and for all."

"Oh, good. I'm so glad, but, listen. I wanted to ask if you'll help me and Etta Mae backstage. You know, getting the girls dressed and lined up? We'll have their outfits for the various competitions hanging in order, with the names pinned on them. All you'll have to do is be sure the right girl gets in the right outfit. And help with buttons and zippers and things. I don't want there to be a mad scramble with clothes flying everywhere."

Wardrobe mistress was not exactly how I saw myself, but I nodded.

"Oh, and, Miss Julia," she said, turning back to me. "Could you just be available if the judges need anything?"

"I suppose I could." And, with a lift of my spirits, I envisioned a multitude of opportunities that availability could produce. "You know, Hazel Marie, I'm quite anxious for Ashley to do well."

"Me, too. But I want all of them to do well, and let the judges' votes fall where they may."

"Yes, indeed."

Chapter 42.

Mr. Pickens showed up just in time to have dinner with us the night before the pageant. He was in good form, laughing and teasing everybody and, in general, making a nuisance of himself. Of course, I was the only one who recognized the nuisance factor, although Hazel Marie was in such a tizzy here on Pageant Eve that she had little patience with him.

"Who wants to hear my good news?" he asked, flapping his napkin to the side, then draping it over his lap.

"I do!" Little Lloyd was always eager for anything Mr. Pickens wanted to dish out. "Tell us, tell us."

"Wel-l-l, let's see if everybody wants to hear it." He turned to Hazel Marie on his right. "You interested, sweetheart?"

"Don't mess with me, J.D. I have too much on my mind to put up with your foolery tonight." And she did, since the pageant was sold out, and everybody was expecting a great and wonderful event.

"How 'bout you, Miss Julia?" Mr. Pickens asked, turning those black eyes on me. He was determined to drag it out and build the suspense.

"I'm sure you'll tell us sooner or later," I said. "But I wouldn't know good news if I heard it. I've had too much of the other kind here lately."

"Oh, just tell us, J.D." Hazel Marie rounded on him.

"Since you put it that way, then-guess who's coming to town?"

"Who? Who?" Little Lloyd was interested, even if no one else was.

"None other than your friend and mine, Sonny Sutton."

Forks clattered on plates, Little Lloyd beamed, Sam looked up with a surprised expression, and Hazel Marie threw her arms around Mr. Pickens, causing him to slosh water out of his glass.

"Oh, J.D.! How did you do it?" she cried. "That's wonderful. Oh, the pageant'll be a success now. Will he do a number for us? You think he would?"

"Hold on," Mr. Pickens said, laughing and trying to untangle himself. "He's coming because there's word that the fellow he's looking for might be in this area. Seems the man has family around here, and Sonny's hot on his trail."

"Who's he looking for, J.D.?" Little Lloyd asked, as I sat there blinking my eyes and cocking my head toward the child, trying to signal Mr. Pickens not to say too much.

"A Mr. Kincaid," Mr. Pickens answered. "He's got a few questions to put to him."

I closed my eyes in dismay. I could've answered every one of Sonny Sutton's questions, including the main one.

Sonny Sutton hit town the following afternoon, and you would've thought he was the president for all the excitement and carryings-on that his arrival engendered. He and his entourage took up almost all the Holiday Inn out by the interstate, and reporters from as far away as Asheville descended on us. Sonny was big news, and so was the state of his marriage.

I declare, I didn't see why the man couldn't just go ahead and get married again. I wondered if, deep inside or maybe not so deep, he was liking the publicity, especially after Hazel Marie told me that his most recent release had just hit number one on the country music chart. And even more especially after I heard the title of it: "I'm a Marryin' Man (But Somebody Stopped Me)."

"I just don't understand people who try to profit from personal tragedy," I said to Sam, as we waited for it to be time to go to the auditorium. "How in the world can he tolerate the publicity, much less help it along?"

He smiled. "Don't be too hard on him, Julia. People like Sonny express their experiences through their art. And their fans know it's heartfelt."

"Well, I wouldn't do it." Then I had to laugh. "Maybe that's why I'm not a country music star."

Although I would never announce to the world all my secrets, Sonny's openness made me wonder if I'd gone too far in the other direction. By this time, my head was so full of secret plans and what-ifs and help-me-Lords, that I didn't know if I was coming or going. You would think that Sam would know what was roiling around in my mind, and help me out a little. He could clear matters up in one fell swoop.

But he didn't. He kept waiting for me, and I wasn't the one to do it, especially since, for all I knew, he'd turn me down. You would think that a man would know what was in a woman's mind, and do something about it, wouldn't you?

Hazel Marie left early for the auditorium, taking Latisha with her for one more practice of her song. Little Lloyd went with them, since he was charged with Latisha's good behavior. Lillian started to go, too, but decided that she'd get too nervous, worrying about Latisha's performance, and affect the child adversely. Before long, Mr. Pickens came by and picked up Sam.

"Hazel Marie's about to lose it," he said, in his joking way. "The judges' table won't fit where she wants it, and she expects you and me to figure it out."

About an hour before the event was to start, Lillian and I drove over to the high school. There were cars going up and down the streets, looking for parking places. Families crowded the sidewalk, waving to each other, on their way to the auditorium doors. Lines of people waited to get in, hoping, I thought, that Sonny would be there, since word had run through the town that he might be.

I finally found a place at a doctor's office to leave the car, figuring he wouldn't have office hours on a Saturday night. We went in at the back of the auditorium into absolute chaos, just as Hazel Marie had predicted. Half the contestants sat around in dressing gowns, their faces heavily made up, with eyes glazed over, scared stiff. Others, like Tasha McKenzie, talked ninety miles an hour, giddy with excitement. Little Lloyd and Latisha were sitting on some boxes, out of the way but close enough to see everything. Little Lloyd smiled when he saw us, giving a little wave.

"Lemme look at that chile's dress," Lillian said, going over to Latisha. "Stand up, an' lemme see you got it dirty yet."

"I been watchin' out, Great-Granny," Latisha said, turning around in her bright red dress so that the petticoats underneath twirled with her. Her matching red patent shoes glistened on her feet. "I'm not gonna get it dirty. I'm gonna be the star."

Lillian snorted at that, then when Latisha pointed behind her, she turned and gasped. "Oh, my Jesus! Look at that thing!"

It was a combat-ready, black-outfitted deputy with a dog as big as a calf sitting beside him. "That's Max, Miss Lillian," Little Lloyd said. "That's why we're doing this-to get some more just like him."

"I hope he stay right where he is," she said, sitting down close to Latisha.

Sheriff Frady was over in a corner, looking over his introductory notes, and I veered away from him as I looked for Hazel Marie. Music emanated from the other side of the curtain, along with the buzz and shuffle of people finding seats.

I pushed past racks of the contestants' outfits, hoping to see Ashley. Lord, if she'd gotten cold feet at the last minute, what would I do?

Nothing, I told myself. Or rather, I'd do what I intended to do all along. Namely, get myself married if I could. Preacher Kincaid couldn't blame me if she failed to show, could he?