London Russell pulled her suitcase into the lobby of the Atlanta Columbine Hotel and took a deep breath. She picked up hairspray and perfume and ambition in the air—yep, smelled like a beauty pageant, all right. A huge banner welcomed all the contestants for Miss Sweet Georgia Peach, mothers and daughters buzzing near the check-in table like hornets around a hive. She’d thought she’d left all this behind her, but no—here she was again for one last shot before she was considered too old.
“London! Why, as I live and breathe!” Taffy Johnson bustled up to her, dressed in purple from head to toe in a linen pantsuit. If anyone could be called a stage mother, it was Taffy—she was more invested in her daughter Lacey’s success than Lacey was herself, and that was saying a lot. She gave London an air kiss on each cheek and then stepped back to survey her. “I haven’t seen you since you won Miss Mint Julep. Where have you been?”
“Finishing up some college courses,” London replied. “I’ve decided—”
“I’ve always wondered why we’ve never seen you at Miss Atlanta,” Taffy barreled on, not even registering that London had spoken. “Surely you’re more than experienced enough to win, with all those tiaras you have.”
“I just—”
“Of course, Lacey has almost as many!” She laughed delicately. “Why, we had to get a whole new glass-fronted bookcase to hold them all. I put it in the parlor. I figured that wasn’t as ostentatious as the front room, but Big Daddy said we should put it in the yard and show it off to the neighborhood! You remember Big Daddy, don’t you, London?”
Indeed she did. No one could meet Lacey’s father and not remember the experience. She didn’t have the chance to reply, though, because Taffy was still going.
“Where’s your mother? Isn’t she here with you? And I heard your sister married a fabulously wealthy rancher and moved to Idaho. Good for her. I always knew she’d make something of herself.”
“Mom’s at a meeting for her charity,” London finally managed to squeeze in. “And Amber’s husband isn’t fabulously wealthy, but he is a rancher. And he teaches rock climbing.”
“Oh.” Taffy seemed a bit put out. “A rockclimbing rancher? That seems a little odd, doesn’t it? But never mind—I’m just so glad to see you. We’ve missed you on the pageant circuit. We never feel like the competition’s stiff enough unless you’re here.”
London accepted that as the subtle compliment it was. “Thanks. It’s good to see you too. Tell Lacey I’ll catch up with her later, all right?”
“Of course. Take care now!” Taffy scuttled off the way she’d come from, looking like a lavender cupcake.
London checked into her room at the hotel, asked the bellhop to take her suitcase upstairs for her, and then walked over to the pageant registration table to check in. Her mother would be arriving later with her dress bags—she’d had them in storage for nine months, and they’d needed a little freshening up at the dry cleaner’s.
She endured several more vapid greetings from insincere persons, but then grinned when she caught sight of Chelsea Baker pushing through the crowd toward her. Chelsea was the one true friend she’d made during her pageant years, the only girl who had never stabbed her in the back, tried to sabotage her, or told lies about her to the judges.
“London!” Chelsea gave her a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, some print ads and a shopping mall grand opening. I’ve never understood the whole cut-the-ribbon-with-giant-scissors thing. What about you? It’s been forever.”
London smiled. “Well, I’ve actually decided to go to law school.”
Chelsea blinked, then squealed. “Like your sister? That’s so fantastic! When do you start?”
London motioned around them. “That’s what this will decide. I’m hoping to win a scholarship.”
“Oh, I hope you do!”
The line moved forward, so the girls edged closer to the table. “So, how do you get into law school, anyway?” Chelsea asked.
“I’ve been finishing up some course work over this last year so I’ll be ready to apply. And then hopefully they’ll accept me. I’ve had to pull good grades to make up for some stuff on my high school transcript—being Miss Mountain Breeze and Miss Southern Belle really made it hard to be a good student.”
“Yeah, those local appearances at the library and the ice cream parlor add up.” Chelsea laughed. “Why do we do this?”
“I don’t know. I remember loving it once upon a time.”
Chelsea leaned forward and grabbed London’s arm. “And you still love it, right? Don’t let the judges think anything different or you’ll get tossed in the first round.”
London nodded. “I adore it. Passionately.”
When it was London’s turn to check in, the girl behind the table gasped. “London Russell! You’re Miss Mint Julep, aren’t you? I loved your ball gown for the last round—you looked just like Scarlett O’Hara!”
“It was my mother’s idea,” London said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
“If you’re Miss Mint Julep, why aren’t you wearing your sash?” the other woman at the table asked. “All contestants who are currently crowned should wear their sashes here for the first day so we can all get to know you and your past achievements.”
“I’m sorry. I came from somewhere else and didn’t think to put it on. It’s in my suitcase, though.”
“Be sure that you wear it to the mix and mingle in half an hour. Our judges will be there, and it’s your opportunity to impress them with your experience.”
“Okay,” London said, hoping she really had brought her sash and hadn’t just dreamed it. “And the tiara?” she added jokingly.
“Oh, no,” the woman said. “That would be a little much, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.” London mentally shook her head as she gathered up her registration materials and worked her way toward the elevator.
Once in her room, she kicked off her heels and plopped on one of the beds. The schedule looked much the same as all the others she’d seen—today was Monday, and there was a meet and greet with the other contestants and the judges. No parents or other guests were allowed, so sadly, she’d have to miss seeing Taffy fawn all over Lacey. Tuesday was publicity photo shoots and newspaper interviews, all designed to get the public excited for the pageant so they’d buy tickets. Wednesday was interviews with the judges and the first talent show. Thursday was the first elimination, and Friday was the pageant itself. The contestants would now be down to twelve, and they’d compete in talent, swimsuit, ball gown, and an interview with the emcee for the evening.
Fun, fun, fun.
She flipped the page over and read about the prizes. The first, second, and third prizes all came with scholarship money. Of course, she’d rather take the first prize, which was twenty-five thousand dollars. But even second or third would really be helpful.
The second page showcased a brief bio of each of the judges. First was Gerald Morgan, former mayor of Atlanta. He was probably sixty-five, with snowy white hair and a matching smile. He was known for calling every female he met “darlin’,” but he wasn’t demeaning about it—it was charming.
Then there was Elaine Denning, owner of one of the biggest cosmetics companies in the country, Adeline Rose. She looked pleasant enough, but there was a layer of steel in her eyes, something that always seemed to be necessary in an entrepreneur.
And the special guest judge was NFL quarterback Kade Smith.
London’s heart stopped. What? Kade Smith was judging this pageant? That couldn’t be right. She held the page closer, as if that would change the fact that yes, that was Kade’s face staring back up at her, his smug grin and his perfect hair and his too-big-for-his-shirt muscles. She dropped the paper to the bed and pressed her fingers to her temples. This couldn’t be happening.
Kade had been the captain of the football team her senior year of high school, and he’d gone out of his way to make her life miserable. He teased her endlessly about being a beauty queen and a Barbie doll and every other thing he could think of. If he was driving past in his convertible, he’d do the pageant wave at her—elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist. He was insufferable.
And he was judging this contest. She might as well pack up and go home right that minute—no way would he ever vote for her.
But if she went home, she could kiss law school goodbye. Everyone thought the Russells were loaded because they lived on a plantation—minus the slaves—but in truth, the plantation had been in the family for generations and was only worth the land it sat on. There were some antique thingies here and there, and General What’s His Name had done something important on the front veranda—signed a paper or something—and so it was considered a historical landmark. But there was nothing liquid about it, and that meant no money for law school. Academic scholarships were out of the question—it all came down to this pageant.
Grrr.
A glance at her watch told her that she had ten minutes to get downstairs for the meet and greet. She could do this—she could survive Kade for one week. She’d just use a little extra charm on the other two judges and win them over to her cause, and then it wouldn’t matter what Kade said because he’d be outvoted.
She reached in her suitcase and pulled out the white sundress she’d brought just for this. Thankfully, her Miss Mint Julep sash wasn’t hard to find, and after fluffing her hair and putting on a little more lipstick, she felt ready. Deep breath. Time to get a scholarship. Then she could put all this fakery behind her once and for all.