I sniffed. "I really don't know the woman."

"She's very nice, and awfully hardworking. And she'd do anything for you."

"That may be, Hazel Marie. I'm just surprised that you'd want her around Mr. Pickens, knowing how he is about attractive women."

She laughed. "I'm not worried about that. Oh, I know how J.D. can be, but he doesn't mean anything by it. Especially since I know Etta Mae would never go after somebody who's already taken. And, believe me, J.D. is taken. Besides," she went on, "Etta Mae wouldn't even look at a friend's man."

Well, wasn't that the problem? Etta Mae Wiggins was no friend of mine and, if she learned the truth of my marriage or lack of same, she might well assume Sam was untaken and go after him again. I recalled all too well how she'd hung on him and pampered him and did personal things for him when he was laid up. And how he'd loved every minute of her totally unnecessary ministrations. The thought of it set my teeth on edge.

"Well, you just make sure she minds her manners around me," I said. "I'm in no mind to put up with her gushing over . . . well, whoever."

Hazel Marie frowned; then her eyes widened and her face lit up. "Sam?" She laughed. "You think Etta Mae'll go after Sam?"

I drew myself up. "Well, it's not so far-fetched. Not that I'm worried, you understand. It's just that I've seen that woman in action, and Sam is a very attractive man."

"But, Miss Julia, for all Etta Mae knows, Sam is a married man. Nobody but us knows any different, and I sure won't tell her. And I can promise you that she respects the marriage vows." Hazel Marie stopped and bit her lower lip. "Of course, not all married men respect theirs, and she's had a little trouble along those lines-you know, them going after her."

I swung around, my hand pressed to my forehead. "Don't tell me that, Hazel Marie. I've got enough to worry about without adding anything extra."

"Shoo," Hazel Marie said, waving her hand. "You don't have enough to worry about if you think Sam's going to take up with another woman."

"Well," I said, darkly, "any man can be vulnerable. Especially to an all-out attack by the likes of her."

"Well, yourself," she came back at me, but with a smile. "All you have to do is keep Sam so occupied that he doesn't have the energy to think of anybody else. And you can't do that in separate bedrooms."

"Hazel Marie!"

"I'm just telling you the truth, and you know it. Now listen, the girls will be here before long, and they're going to be so excited. Just think, Miss Julia, one of them's going to be Miss Abbot County Sheriff's Department. It's the chance of a lifetime."

"Then Lord help them if that's the high point of their lives. No, I'm sorry, Hazel Marie," I said, as her face fell. "I didn't mean it quite like that. It is a wonderful opportunity for all of them, and I know they'll appreciate what you're doing. So, tell me," I went on, trying to set aside my own troubles, "do we know any of them?"

She consulted the list she'd gotten from Coleman, then handed it to me. "I know some of the family names, but not the girls themselves. See if you do."

I scanned the list and, like Hazel Marie, recognized some surnames. "I know a Peavey, and you do, too. Let's hope it's not the same family. And here's a LaVane. Is her father the young man who works at the radio station?"

"Oh, I hope so. We'd get a lot of advertising if he is. I don't think he's so young, though."

"Everybody's young to me, Hazel Marie," I said, feeling every year of my age.

"Well, when we get into this, it's going to young you up, as Lillian would say. Now, Miss Julia, since we're talking about this, I might as well tell you, even though I know you're not going to like it. But I've had to ask Thurlow Jones to be a judge."

"Oh, no, Hazel Marie. Don't tell me that. The man's as crazy as a loon, and he'll ruin everything. Why in the world did you ask him?"

"I knew you wouldn't like it, but I was put on the spot. Sheriff Frady told me that Thurlow wants to do it, and he asked me to ask him. I didn't have a good reason not to."

"I could've given you a dozen." All I could think of was how that grizzled old man had thought he was the answer to all my prayers, and how he'd put me in an unseemly position-namely, astraddle a Harley Davidson motorcycle-by giving me a challenge I couldn't turn down. He'd lured me into participating in a Poker Run, of all things, to raise some much needed money for Lillian and her neighbors. I still hadn't recovered from it, and Hazel Marie should've known that. "What I'd like to know is, how did Thurlow know about the pageant. We've not done any advertising yet."

"Oh, I expect the sheriff told him. They're big buddies, you know. Anyway, now we have Sam, Tonya Allen, and Thurlow Jones as the judges. That's enough, don't you think?"

"More than," I said, my heart sinking at the thought of putting up with both Thurlow Jones and Etta Mae Wiggins. Then I had another thought. "Hazel Marie, do you think Miss Wiggins could get interested in Thurlow?"

Hazel Marie nearly fell out of her chair, laughing. "Etta Mae and Thurlow? You've got to be kidding! Nobody would be interested in him."

"Well, it would solve a lot of problems," I said, because I still didn't trust the Wiggins woman around Sam, and I didn't trust Thurlow Jones around me.

By the time the contestants were due to arrive that evening, I was ready to see the last of Mr. Pickens and his playfulness. He had dropped by in time for supper, as was his wont, and he'd kept everybody but me entertained with one humorous story after another, none of which I was in the mood for. Afterward, Hazel Marie suggested that he and Sam make themselves scarce and find something to do somewhere else. The contestants, she said, might be self-conscious if they had an audience this early in the game.

So Sam told Mr. Pickens that they could go to his house, and Mr. Pickens told Sam that he had a video they could watch if he'd been feeling a little deprived lately. It had taken me a minute to get his meaning, then to understand that Mr. Pickens was ragging on me, as usual.

He laughed and put his arm around me. "Just teasing, Miss Julia. You know I wouldn't do that."

"I wouldn't put anything past you, Mr. Pickens. So you'd better mind yourself around me." I smiled and slipped out from under his arm. But if he thought I didn't mean what I said, he was dead wrong.

Little Lloyd wanted to go with them, but his mother said he'd be too late getting to bed on a school night.

"That's all right," Mr. Pickens told him, with a pat on the shoulder. "We need you to stick around and take notes. Pictures, too, if you can sneak downstairs."

"Mr. Pickens," I said, "stop putting ideas in that child's head. He never knows when you're teasing."

"I'm not teasing," he said, but he grinned at Little Lloyd.

So with Little Lloyd safely upstairs with his door closed and homework on his desk, Hazel Marie ran to greet our first arrival after the doorbell rang. It was Etta Mae Wiggins, and you would've thought they were the best of friends, as they squealed greetings and hugged each other. I knew they were not. They had both gone to the same county schools, but Miss Wiggins was some few years younger than Hazel Marie, so they couldn't have been too close. Both had checkered pasts, though, which I suppose accounted for some of their feelings of companionship.

"Etta Mae! I'm so glad to see you," Hazel Marie cried before the woman got in the door good.

"Hazel Marie!" she cried in return. Then she stood back and gazed at her. "You look gorgeous! I love that silk shirt. And your gold necklace! Girl, you look like a million dollars."

Which, I thought, was reasonably apt, since, by way of Little Lloyd's inheritance, Hazel Marie had the use of a million and then some dollars.

"This? It's old as the hills," Hazel Marie said, looking down at herself. "Come on in, Etta Mae. We sure need your help. Oh, I love your hair. What've you done to it?"

"Cut, dyed, and permed it," Miss Wiggins said, shaking her curly head. "I was sick and tired of my real color, which was hardly any color at all, so I got me a new 'do. If I'd gone red, I'd be Orphan Annie. You like it?"

"It looks great on you. Come on in and have a seat. You and Miss Julia know each other, don't you?"

The sparkle in Miss Wiggins's eyes died away as she turned to me. I quickly offered my hand, mindful of my duties as a hostess.

"We've met," I said. "How are you, Miss Wiggins?"

"I'm fine, ma'am," she said, with considerably less enthusiasm than when she'd greeted Hazel Marie. "Thank you for asking, but you can call me Etta Mae if you want to."

I didn't, particularly.

Hazel Marie guided Miss Wiggins to a seat beside her on the sofa, while I took one of the Victorian chairs by the fireplace. As she studied the copies of the pageant agenda that Hazel Marie handed to her, I had the opportunity to study her.

Miss Wiggins was a small woman, a bit shorter than Hazel Marie, but much more rounded. Whereas Hazel Marie verged on the skinny side, except for her up-top area, Miss Wiggins had a more balanced figure, one that would draw stares, backward glances, and leers from those so inclined.

She had a bouncy personality, as I'd perceived at our first meeting when she was supposedly caring for Sam. Perky is a better word, though I am not impressed by perkiness in the best of times. I noticed her glancing occasionally in my direction while listening to Hazel Marie's description of the pageant and the decisions that had to be made.

"Well, I hope I can help," she said, as Hazel Marie finished. "You know I'll do whatever I can. I'm really excited about it, 'specially since you asked me. I just admire you so much, Hazel Marie. It's a real honor to work with you."

That was a little much for me, but I held my tongue because I do believe the woman was being honest, though just a little over-the-top with her flattery. Of course, she could do worse than idolize Hazel Marie, who, I don't mind saying, had bloomed in my nurturing care.

It was remarkable to me, though, as I sat and studied this little upstart whom I didn't trust for a minute, how she could turn the charm on and off. When she spoke to Hazel Marie, she was animated, her eyes sparkling, her hands gesturing, and her voice lilting with excitement. But when she cut her eyes at me, as if she were checking on my response, all her liveliness petered out. Her eyes darkened, the hint of a frown showed up between her brows, and a worried look passed across her face.

"Miss Julia?" Hazel Marie said.

I shook myself out of my concentration on Miss Wiggins's facial expressions. "Yes?"

"Is there anything I've forgotten? Anything you've thought of that might help."

"Ah, well, yes," I said, trying to turn my mind to the work at hand. "Miss Wiggins, uh, Etta Mae, that is. I've already told Hazel Marie that I don't know a thing about this pageant business. I am perfectly willing to lend a hand occasionally, but that's all I can do. I have too much on my plate for any more. So, for Hazel Marie's sake, I hope you know how beauty pageants are supposed to be run."

"Yes, ma'am, I think I do. I've been to a lot of them, and a friend of mine was a contestant in the Miss Apple Festival contest several years ago. She didn't win, though."

Well, Lord, that was hardly a glowing resume of Miss Wiggins's beauty pageant experience.

"Then I guess the two of you will have to stumble through as best you can."

Miss Wiggins seemed to shrink into the sofa, as she glanced at me from under her thick eyelashes. She murmured, "I'll do my best."

"Oh, you'll do fine," Hazel Marie said. "I know you will. I wouldn't have asked you if I thought you couldn't."

Miss Wiggins's face brightened at Hazel Marie's vote of confidence. As I watched the transformation on her face, it struck me that I was the one who was making her so unsure of herself. In fact, I do believe she was intimidated by being in my presence. I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended.

Still, it never hurt to have people recognize my position in this town and deal with me accordingly. But, I will admit to feeling a softening of my heart toward Miss Wiggins. She was being properly respectful, and if she continued to remember her manners and kept her eyes off Sam, we'd get along just fine.

Chapter 13.

"I hear them," Hazel Marie said, as a couple of car doors slammed outside. "Sit still, Miss Julia. I'll let them in."

As she walked toward the door, she added, "Get ready, everybody. We're gonna have us a beauty pageant."

Well, of course I couldn't sit still with guests at the door, so Hazel Marie and I greeted the young women as they straggled in by ones and twos. Now, I know that first impressions often have to be reconsidered, but first impressions were all I had to go on at the time. And, believe me, I sincerely hoped to be able to reconsider them, since the contestants in aggregate did not engender a great deal of confidence in their ability to show well, either up close or onstage.

Most of them were quite attractive, or they would've been with different hair styles, less makeup, and more suitable clothing. But I kept my thoughts to myself as Hazel Marie quieted their chatter by taking charge of the meeting. She started off in a soft voice and with a noticeable trembling of the pages in her hand. But she persevered, giving them an overview of the way the pageant would be organized, what would be expected of the contestants, and the categories in which they would be vying. Then she handed out the schedules that listed the various competitions and the types of dress each one required.

"Any questions?" Hazel Marie asked, and waited a few seconds while the girls looked over the pages. "Well, I'm sure you'll have lots to ask as we get further along. Now, I'm going to introduce everybody by their names and titles so we'll all know who is who." She turned to me. "But first, this is Mrs. Julia Springer. Oh!" Hazel Marie's hand flew to her mouth, as she blushed and giggled at her slip. "I mean, Mrs. Murdoch. I'm sorry, Miss Julia, but you being a new bride and all, well, I'm not used to your new name."

Six pairs of young eyes openly stared at me, as if they couldn't comprehend that someone could be a bride at my age. I composed my face as best I could and settled myself stiffly in my chair in order to withstand their frowning scrutiny with some measure of serenity. But I was embarrassed at the attention, considering the questionable circumstances of my marriage. Even if few were aware of it, Hazel Marie might have been correct in reverting to my former name.

"Anyway," Hazel Marie went on, trying to regain their attention. "This is Etta Mae Wiggins. She and I will be your official guides, instructors, and chaperones. So, tell your folks that you're in good hands."

I wondered about that, as Miss Wiggins gave a little wave to the girls and Hazel Marie continued with her introductory remarks.

"Etta Mae'll be showing you how to do the runway walk, how to turn and how to sit. Both of us will help you with your responses to the questions and the interviews with the judges. And we'll spend a lot of time on your choice of outfits for the different events, your makeup, and how you wear your hair. We have a lot of work to do, so I hope everybody's ready to buckle down."

By this time, I was becoming more and more impressed with Hazel Marie. She'd started off with a nervous quaver in her voice, but she'd gradually attained strength of purpose and confidence in herself. I expect it was because even she could not fail to notice how raw and uninformed these young women seemed to be. Anything Hazel Marie could offer had fertile soil to take root in.

"Now, let's see who everybody is," Hazel Marie said, consulting her notes. "Miss First Watch, that's Melanie Easley, right? Stand up, Miss First Watch."

The young woman who jumped up, grinning and flinging out her arms so we could get a full view, looked like a carhop, if they still have those jobs. She had on shorts that were so short I had to avert my eyes when she leaned over to take a mock bow to everybody's applause. Her tank top barely covered her middle and was so tight in the bodice that nothing was left to the imagination. A slenderizing diet wouldn't be amiss, either, for the kindest thing I could say for Miss Easley was that she had retained a soft layer of baby fat.

I took pad and pen, and wrote down her name and title so I could remind Hazel Marie and Miss Wiggins what that child needed to be told.

"Thanks. You can sit down now." Hazel Marie looked around. "Now we have Miss Third Watch, Ashley Knowles."

Miss Knowles rose slightly from her chair, then quickly sat back down, letting her long hair, black and stringy, veil her face from view. Shy, I supposed, feeling some pity for the girl who looked less like a beauty queen than anybody I'd ever seen. Then, to my consternation, I detected a flash of gold embedded on the side of her nose. Lord, my own nose began to twitch so bad, I had to fumble a Kleenex out of my pocket. She wore jeans that were so long they dragged along the ground, gathering up dust and dirt and whatever else she walked through. Taking in all that, along with her poor posture, I knew she'd need a lot of work if she was going to withstand the kind of scrutiny she'd let herself in for.

I jotted down a note to that effect, noticing as I did that Miss Knowles sat some little distance from the others.

"All right," Hazel Marie said. "Now, Miss Second Watch, Tasha McKenzie." Hazel Marie glanced at the heavily made-up young woman. "You wouldn't be Preacher Skeeter McKenzie's daughter, would you?"

"I sure would," she answered, pleased to be recognized. "Everybody knows my daddy, don't they?"

Lord, I was taken aback at hearing that bit of information. Preacher Skeeter, as he insisted on being called, had a splinter church somewhere out in the country and, from what I'd heard, pretty much made up his own doctrine. He preached it every Sunday morning on the local radio station, which a lot of people listened to for its entertainment value. But what I wanted to know was why in the world a fundamentalist preacher, who disapproved of everything from television to assertive women, would allow his daughter to compete in a body-baring beauty contest. Yet, there she was in skintight pants, slung so low I wanted to jerk them back up. Underneath her bouffant hairdo, she was smiling and simpering with what seemed to me an unwarranted confidence in her own allure.

I made a note that she might need bringing down a peg or two.

"Hazel Marie," I whispered, while Miss McKenzie did a twirl in the middle of the room, "does that girl's father know what she's in for?"

"I guess he does," she whispered back. "I sent all the girls a general outline of the events."

Strange, I thought to myself, as Miss McKenzie confounded me even more by announcing that she'd been to modeling school in Greenville.

"I'll be glad to help any of y'all," she said, taking a stand beside Hazel Marie, as if she'd just promoted herself to coleader of the band.

But Hazel Marie was not to be intimidated. "Have a seat, Tasha. If we need help, I'll let you know. But right now, we have to move on."

Well, I thought, this beauty pageant business would seem to have heretofore unnoticed benefits. My retiring and usually submissive Hazel Marie was showing a little backbone, and I was quite proud of her.

Just as she opened her mouth to introduce another contestant, a persistent ringing sound made everyone look around to see where it was coming from. An attractive black girl dug into her drawstring bag and fished out a cell phone. She laughed as if in apology, but did nothing to end the call. Turning her head to answer it, she ignored Hazel Marie's glare and my frown of annoyance. We all waited while she finished a conversation that consisted of little more than several reallys? and a few you knows. There were some eye rollings and exaggerated sighs among the other girls at the interruption.

When the girl finally clicked off the phone with a pleased smile and an insincere "Sorry," Miss Wiggins spoke right up. "The very first rule: No cell phones during rehearsals. If you have one, turn it off now."

Every head, except Miss Knowles's, leaned down to purse or backpack on the floor, as they followed her instructions.

"Good," Hazel Marie said, scanning her notes again. "Let's see, the next one I have is Miss SWAT Team. That's Heather Peavey, right?"

Miss Peavey jumped up with a cheery smile. "That's me, and I'm going to do this if it kills me! Because if I don't, my dad's gonna kill me, anyway."