Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Two giant geodes with crystal centers, split open to reveal layers of sparkling turquoise, flanked the doors at the entryway of the ballroom, and a pianist played lyrical versions of thematic songs: “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” and “Diamonds on the Water.” It was likely Mr. Pratler, my high school choir teacher who accompanied every church Christmas special, community theater production, and children’s play in Aubergine.
A woman scanned badges, looking for the tiny rose logo of the pageant, as if there were people just dying to forge credentials and sneak into this place.
Not for the first time I wondered how long it would take for news of Mr. Finch to hit media outlets.
The man was from a long line of multimillionaires who owned the second-largest estate in the United States, and if he wasn’t soon found alive and well in some hidden nook, his disappearance wouldn’t go unreported.
As I walked into the ballroom, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the space lit only by twinkling lights above, and all around me a sea of women in gold, finishing off the titular name of the event—All That Glitters…
Is Not Gold—assaulted my eyes. The few not wearing gold were dressed in jewel tones.
No one was wearing anything like what Aunt DeeDee had selected for me, and I knew by the admiring—and jealous—glances that this was a very good thing.
“You look lovely, dear,” Miss 1962 said, strolling past with a drink and holding up what must have been her score card.
Less than a minute later, Dr. Bellingham caught my eye and gave me a faint nod before scribbling something down.
I only needed Katie Gilman’s vote of confidence, but she hadn’t yet arrived.
We’d been encouraged to invite a date for the evening, so men in tuxes walked the room with golden and glimmering ladies on their arms. Apparently, Mr. Finch’s AWOL status wasn’t slowing down these women or their show and, if I’d had to guess, I would have said that was the way the sheriff wanted it.
People were more likely to let things slip in a loud room with alcohol rather than in a lockdown situation.
If anything, recent events were making the staff and contestants more curious and thus more eager to gather in large numbers to confirm they were safe and sound.
I spotted the bar and got in line, grateful for something to get me through the rest of the evening. Pushing back my shoulders, I stood straighter, reminded myself to make sure the judges saw me being confident, comported, and those other two Cs I wouldn’t normally care about.
As I waited for the signature drink, something called a Gem and Tonic, I spotted Summer, dressed in a satiny ruby-red dress with lantern sleeves and a plunge neckline, ahead of me in line. She was talking with someone who was almost a foot taller and was wearing a pleated gold dress.
“It’s weird, right?” the person said, her voice thin and high-pitched. I soon realized that this statuesque woman with the perfect figure was Jemma. Lovely.
“It has to be a coincidence.” Summer’s voice lowered. “That was twenty-something years ago. If the same thing was going to happen, it would’ve happened before now.”
“Or Dr. Bellingham may have been biding his time,” Jemma insisted. “I’ve been in this pageant long enough to know that I should keep an eye on him.”
I tilted toward them, trying to overhear their conversation.
Jemma shot me a look over her shoulder. “Oh, hi. Savilla’s friend, right?” Somehow she made even this simple question sound condescending.
“Uh… yeah,” I said, not wanting to explain my definition of friendship and how Savilla and I didn’t quite meet the requirements.
“Oh my goodness, you are gorgeous,” Summer said, wrapping me into a hug. She smelled sweet with a hint of peppermint, either from her milk of magnesia or tea bags, I assumed. “I wondered where you were.” She lowered her voice. “I found an officer who agreed to get your aunt’s supplies to her.”
“Supplies?” Jemma asked, narrowing her gaze at the two of us.
Summer drew a finger over her lips as if this was our little secret.
Jemma ignored the gesture and fixed her eyes on my outfit, examining me from head to toe and asking with a sharp edge, “Who picked that out for you?”
“My aunt,” I answered honestly, not needing to hide the fact that I couldn’t do any of this on my own.
I didn’t care. I was more interested in the coincidence she and Summer had been discussing, but just then their drinks were ready and someone tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Lacy, wearing a flowing sunset-colored dress that swished at her ankles.
She hadn’t dressed according to theme and I loved her for it.
“You look great,” I told her, realizing again how well suited my best friend was to run in a pageant. If only she could do this for me.
Lacy struck a pose before she grabbed champagne from a passing waiter and took a long swig.
I motioned to her glass. “Whoa. You okay there? You’re drinking on the job.”
“Sometimes a girl needs liquid sustenance to make it through an awful day at work.” She surveyed the room. “Besides, I’ve earned it. I’m already getting calls from reporters asking about Mr. Finch’s whereabouts. Someone in this organization already leaked it to the press.”
I sensed Jemma leaning into our conversation now. Even Summer’s ears perked up.
“Also, two of the tents didn’t show up for the Decades extravaganza, and I can’t find the boxes of legwarmers that we’re supposed to give away in the eighties.”
Not exactly the titillating details any of us had been awaiting.
I reached the front of the line and grabbed a couple of drinks from the bar.
The Gem and Tonic was some sort of concoction layered in jewel tones.
I took a small sip and stuck out my tongue against the combination of sweet, bitter, and sour.
Jemma made a face as if she was disgusted with me, and Summer handed me a napkin so I could pat away the moisture on my lips.
Lacy, having finished her champagne, gulped her own. She hadn’t been a lightweight since her college years.
“Here, have mine,” I offered.
“Better not. But I want to. Believe me.”
The four of us took a few moments to absorb the forced festivities of the evening. No one had made it onto the dance floor, and though songs echoed from the piano, a sense of hesitation blanketed the room.
I realized that with these three women—Lacy, the event planner; Summer, the eager helper; Jemma, the long-time contestant—I had a trove of pageant knowledge standing right next to me.
“So, what exactly do y’all know about Dr. Bellingham?
” I asked as my eyes wandered to where he stood in the curve of the piano.
He was surrounded by young women in dresses of varying lengths and plunges.
He had a hand on one woman’s back, an arm draped over another contestant’s shoulder, and if he’d had a third, I bet he’d be using it.
“He seems nice enough, but I’ve heard through the whisper network that he may be a little…” Summer stalled, unable to say something derogatory even about this man.
“Stay away unless it’s strategic,” Jemma said curtly. “That’s what I tell every newbie.” Despite her gruff demeanor, her advice sounded almost sisterly.
“When I started working here, DeeDee told me that he’s handsy. Hasn’t actually done anything, as far as I know, but he’s…” Lacy shivered. “I don’t know. Something’s off about him.”
“You said in his introduction today that he was a judge here in 2001?” I added, thinking about the conversation I’d interrupted between Summer and Jemma.
Lacy nodded and took another sip. “Yeah. He served from 1999 to 2001.” She seemed to catch the real question in my voice. “Is this about the crown they found in your aunt’s room? It belonged to Miss 2001, right?”
I nodded, adding, “I thought it was weird when I arrived today and Miss 2001’s cutout was the only one missing from the entryway.”
This surprised Jemma and Summer, who must not have noticed.
“Then, Aunt DeeDee is accused of stealing the crown just as Mr. Finch leaves a note mentioning Miss 2001,” I continued. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but if the last time Dr. Bellingham served as judge someone else went missing… I don’t know. Seems suspicious.”
“A missing pageant owner and a missing pageant queen are very different kinds of people,” Jemma pointed out. She might have been a bit rude, but she was savvy. “One holds all the power, and one holds none.”
This, I knew. Though Momma had given me the sex talk all the way back in second grade, right before my first high-school dance Aunt DeeDee had sat me down and explained to me in vague language the things that a man could force upon a woman if he so chose.
All I remembered from the talk was that I’d wanted her to stop, but she’d insisted I needed to know the reality.
I’ve seen too much, she’d said at least three times.
I hadn’t thought of that moment in years, but now it rushed back at me.
What had my aunt seen in all of her years in this pageant? What had she personally experienced in her week-long stints here? It hadn’t been enough to drive her away, but it had certainly been enough for her to want to protect me.
I thought of her warning, of Mr. Finch and his odd little family, of my aunt in a jail cell, and of Miss 2001 disappearing more than two decades earlier. All of these details had to be pointing at something I just couldn’t yet see.
“Have you ever seen my aunt’s office?” I asked all of them.
Jemma shook her head, but Summer nodded eagerly, saying, “She let me hang out there last year after I messed up my song during the talent show dress rehearsals. I was blubbing like a baby, and she was so nice.” She drew out the word soooo in a way that so fit her personality.
Lacy studied me. “What do you have in mind?”
I was embarrassed to admit that I had very little in mind. “I’m not sure.”
“I’d be surprised if it’s locked, but if so, my key might get us in. You want to check things out?” Lacy waved a hand in the general direction of the crowd. “I think we’ve made an appearance.”
I swallowed back one last sip of the Gem and Tonic and immediately regretted it.
“Let’s go then,” Lacy said, setting down both her glasses and leading us out of the party filled with living jewels.
Without being invited, Jemma, likely out of nosiness, and Summer, likely out of concern, readily followed in our wake.