Chapter 19 Brynn
19
Brynn
“Sloan, babe.” Poppy waves at me from the other side of the town hall’s auditorium. “Where have you been? I was starting to freak out.”
She moves at a considerable speed despite her four-inch heels, which clack loudly on the wooden floors as she crosses the auditorium to meet me. She’s shed her black clothing from this morning and is wearing an emerald-green sundress. Her hair appears to be freshly curled and her classic red lip is perfectly intact. When she reaches me, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me over to a quiet corner of the room. A tall whiteboard on wheels shields us from the curious gazes of the other contestants.
“Why haven’t you changed?” she whispers in a tone that feels unnecessarily sharp.
“Uh, I didn’t exactly have time.” I draw a deep, cleansing breath through my nose. “You forgot to mention there was a pageant meeting today. The only reason I knew to come here was because I ran into Spencer while I was out on my very long walk home from Luce’s place, where you abandoned me.” The last two words come out sharp and irritated.
Poppy, seemingly unperturbed, reaches up and smooths my hair with the palm of her hand. “What are you even talking about? First off, I absolutely told you about the meeting. I said we had to be back by noon sharp, and second, I didn’t abandon you. You made the owl call. That was the signal to abort. I had no idea which way you went, but I figured you could take care of yourself.”
Again, I’m lost on how to respond.
“What were you even doing this morning at Luce’s?”
Poppy holds her palms up as if the answer is obvious. “Helping you win this pageant.”
When I shake my head, she rolls her eyes. “It’s pageant sign-up day, right?”
I nod, having gleaned that piece of information from the giant sign outside.
“Well, if Luce doesn’t have her name on that sign-up sheet by the end of the meeting today, she can’t enter the pageant. I just created a small problem that would require her immediate attention. And I doubt anyone will sign her up on her behalf.” She brushes her hands together. “Problem solved.”
She reaches out and plucks the purple blossom from behind my ear, crushing it in her fist before letting the petals fall to the floor. “I do wish you’d found some time to change though.” She sighs loudly. “Oh well, there isn’t much we can do about it now, is there?”
She steps out from behind the whiteboard before I have a chance to respond, leaving me on my own to find a seat in one of the many rows of aluminum chairs.
The town hall is packed. It feels like every unmarried woman in Carson’s Cove is in attendance.
Everyone but Luce.
“Okay, ladies, let’s get this show on the road.”
In the brief minutes since I left her, Poppy has found a megaphone. The natural shrillness of her voice, amplified by fifty watts, is enough to have everyone scrambling into their seats.
“We have a lot to cover today.”
A PowerPoint presentation appears on the screen behind Poppy. It features a picture of her in her Ms. Lobsterfest crown and sash. It’s from her very first win at the age of sixteen. I recognize the midnight-blue sequined dress.
“Ladies.” Poppy has dropped the megaphone, and her natural speaking voice carries easily through the now-quiet hall. “This is the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Ms. Lobsterfest pageant. And you know what that means? It means that this pageant needs to be everything this town stands for: beauty, perfection, meticulous attention to detail. Everything must be executed absolutely flawlessly. There can be no mistakes.”
Poppy continues to talk.
My stomach starts to churn, as if I’ve swallowed something bad.
I look at the women on my left and right. They are laser-focused on Poppy and every word that’s coming out of her mouth, nodding along as she lays out what she expects of each and every one of us.
I remember loving the pageant episodes. The gowns. The drama. Seeing the characters transformed from their regular everyday selves into glamorous beauty queens. But as I sit here, listening to it all, it suddenly feels different. Maybe I’m older or wiser. Maybe the outside world has evolved so much that now this pageant feels dated and icky. Or maybe it always was, and I never really noticed.
“I will be passing around the sign-up sheets now.” Poppy nods to Lois, who hands a clipboard out to each side of the room.
“If your name is not on this list by the end of this meeting, you will not be able to participate in the pageant. No exceptions.” Poppy’s eyes shoot to something at the back of the room.
I follow her gaze. She’s looking at the door. No one is there.
The churning in my stomach starts to bubble up. Higher and higher it climbs, burning my lungs and crawling its way up to my throat.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Here you go, Sloan.” The woman to my left, a younger brunette I don’t recognize, passes me a clipboard just as the woman to my right does the same. I have two lists of names in my hands.
I scrawl Sloan’s signature on one of them, sealing my own fate.
I will win this pageant.
Spencer will see me as more than just the girl next door.
Things will turn out exactly as they’re supposed to.
This will be my ticket home. Josh’s too.
However, just as I’m about to pass the clipboards back to the front, I notice a blank space on the other list.
It’s stark and it’s white. A reminder of something missing.
Some one missing.
My pen lingers above the page.
Poppy may never forgive Sloan for what I’m about to do.
But I may never forgive myself if I don’t do it.
I scrawl down Luce’s name on the other sheet, doing my best to disguise my handwriting because although I’m having a crisis of conscience, I’m still slightly terrified of Poppy.
My stomach instantly settles.
The meeting goes on for another hour.
Sixty full minutes on the appropriate way to wear our hair and select our evening wear. There’s even a suggested meal plan for the coming week. It pretty much cuts out all carbs, sugar, and joy.
Rehearsal attendance is mandatory.
Listening to all of it is twice as exhausting as my unplanned hike this morning, so when Poppy picks up her megaphone and proclaims in what I’ve come to realize is an unnaturally grating voice, “You are dismissed,” I bolt from the town hall before she has the chance to find me.
I decide to walk the beach home.
Mostly to avoid Poppy tracking me down, but also because it’s another banner day.
The rest of Carson’s Cove may be showing its flaws, but the sun is warm, and the sound of the waves is soothing. I find myself stopping to close my eyes and turn my face to the sun, enjoying the warmth and this sense of serenity.
Until I open my eyes and find a pair of familiar brown ones staring back at me.
“Ahhhhh,” I yell as I recognize the horse from this morning.
It doesn’t rear this time.
Or run away.
It just stares back at me, ears twitching, nostrils flaring until it lets out a horse-sized snort, covering me in horse boogers.
I wipe my face on my sleeve. “Okay. I get it. I probably deserved that.”
The horse turns its head, and I see Luce riding up the beach on the black-and-white-spotted horse. “Sorry about Buttercup there,” Luce calls to me. “She’s a curious girl with no sense of personal space.” Luce sidles up next to Buttercup, whispers a soft “Whoa, boy” to her own horse, then reaches down to retrieve Buttercup’s reins.
“Need a ride?”
“On the horse?”
Luce rolls her eyes. “No, I’m offering you a piggyback. Of course, the horse. I’m headed right past your house.”
This is not a good idea. Not only do I have a spotty history with this horse, but I’m still not sure if Luce knows I was at her farm this morning.
“It’s okay, I’m good. I was really looking forward to the walk.”
Luce looks down the beach, off in the direction of Sloan’s house. “You sure? Your place is a good six miles.”
She’s right. And I can feel the blisters already forming on my feet.
I eye the horse. “How do you feel about this?”
I don’t know how I expect the horse to answer, but I am surprised when she nudges my hand with her nose. I’m equally surprised with myself as I stroke her coat with the palm of my hand and find that I’m definitely not hating the way Buttercup’s ears flick, as if she’s also okay with this new corner we’ve turned.
“You know what? Why not?” I tell both the horse and Luce. “A ride home would be great.”
It takes several attempts to get into the saddle. Luce is surprisingly kind, showing me where to place my feet and how to hold the reins. Once I’m set, we start to move slowly down the beach.
“You’ve never struck me as much of a horse girl,” Luce says as Buttercup starts to pick up speed. “But look at you go. You’re a natural.”
I don’t need to be; Buttercup is a horse with an opinion. She ignores my heel clicks and “whoa, girls” and proceeds to slowly clop her way down the beach at her pace and on the path she chooses.
I respect that.
There’s a coolish breeze coming off the water, but the sun is hot, and I start to sweat. At first, I blame the fact that I’m still clad head to toe in black, but I also suspect that my body doesn’t deal well with guilt.
I hold the reins with one hand and use the hem of my shirt to wipe my brow. The maneuver draws a curious glance from Luce.
“That’s an interesting outfit for a hot summer day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you all in black before.”
I can’t read her tone. There’s nothing in it that hints to whether her comment is entirely about my clothing or if she suspects this is not my first introduction to her horse.
“Yeah, well, it’s been fifteen years. Maybe I’ve changed?”
She tilts her head ever so slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe you have.”
“So…uh…do you always take two horses out for a walk?”
I watch her body language, looking for clues, but she gives away nothing.
“Sometimes.” She draws out the word. “But today was a special circumstance. Westley here”—she pets the black-and-white horse she’s riding—“got out this morning and took off. I’ve been out here looking for him all day.”
Shit.
I think a small part of me was hoping that Poppy’s prank didn’t play out the way that she hoped it would. That maybe Luce was never going to enter the pageant in the first place and that what happened this morning wasn’t as mean or as terrible as it came off in my head.
“So I guess you missed the pageant sign-up?”
She nods. “Funny how that happened. But I’ve decided to take it as a sign from the universe that it wasn’t meant for me this year. I mean, it’s not like I’d even have a shot at winning anyway.”
“What are you talking about? Of course you would.”
Luce was always one of the final five.
Luce side-eyes me as if I’ve lost my head. “Come on, Sloan. I’d make it into the top three at best. But the crown was never going to come anywhere near my head.”
“It might have.”
Luce rolls her eyes. “I know it’s been a minute since you’ve lived here, but there’s no way you’ve forgotten how things go. The crown always belongs to the gorgeous cheerleader.” She eyes my blond hair. “Maybe, once in a while, it ends up on the equally gorgeous but unassuming girl next door, but only after a life-transforming trip to Lois.”
I self-consciously tuck a stray strand behind my ear but stop as I suddenly pick up on her meaning. “This isn’t…It wasn’t for—”
“It’s fine, Sloan,” Luce interrupts. “You and I both know there’s a mold here in Carson’s Cove. You can’t help that you fit into it, just as I can’t help that I don’t. It is what it is.”
I open my mouth to argue but find I have nothing to say because Luce is right. There is a mold to this place. Young. Attractive. Flawed only in a way that still makes you likable. If you don’t fit into it, you’re assigned another role. Outsider. Trouble. Mean girl.
“So why enter, then?” It’s the piece that still doesn’t quite fit.
Luce pulls on her reins, and her horse comes to a stop. Buttercup does the same without a command. I watch Luce inhale, then pause, as if she’s choosing her next words. “Because I am a freaking force to be reckoned with,” she finally says. “But nobody around this place cares. I had this dream of getting up on that stage and making it to the question round, and when the emcee asked me why I wanted to be named Ms. Lobsterfest, I’d tell them about my farm. How I’m driving real change. Sustainable practices. Low environmental impacts. I could show people in this town how smart and accomplished I am. And for once, the right things would be celebrated. But today has been a gross reminder of how stuck this place is. It’s the same shit, over and over and over again. So maybe it’s time I learn my lesson and be grateful that at least I don’t have to put on a dress.”
I have loved Carson’s Cove for as long as I can remember. Spencer Woods was the boyfriend I aspired to fall in love with, and Poppy Bensen was the best friend I aspired to find. But now that I’m here, living through the makeovers and the pageants, I’m starting to rethink everything.
“Your farm sounds pretty great.”
Luce nods but doesn’t smile. “It’s incredible up there. You should really come and see it sometime…. If you haven’t already.”
I forgot in the last few moments what we did to Luce this morning. But now the guilt returns in a fast and furious wave. I open my mouth, still uncertain if I’m going to explain what happened or just skip to straight-up groveling, but Luce clicks her tongue, and her horse heads away from the water toward the big patches of beach grass in front of Sloan’s house.
I do the same, but Buttercup doesn’t move. “Come on, girl.” I kick. I tug the reins. I whisper sweet nothings into her big brown ears. It’s futile. The animal won’t budge an inch.
With nowhere to go, Luce’s accusations start to seep in, and I think back to the Carson’s Cove episodes, especially the early ones.
Poppy and Sloan weren’t exactly nice to Luce. They hid her cheer uniform so that Poppy could take Luce’s place at the top of the pyramid, which ultimately secured her spot both literally and metaphorically at the top. They spread truthful but private rumors about Luce’s sex life so that Chad Michaels would break up with her and get back together with Poppy. It all felt so justified as I watched it at the time. Sloan and Poppy were who I aspired to be. I wanted them to win. Come out on top. I guess I never really thought about the cost.
The horse snorts.
“Yeah, I know.” I stroke the hairs of Buttercup’s mane. “I’m going to make it up to her, I promise.”
The horse swats its tail, but then turns and follows Luce toward the house.
“Hey. Wait up,” I call.
Luce pulls on her reins, slowing her horse so I can catch up.
I draw a deep breath in an attempt to get it all out at once.
“I have two things I need to tell you. The first is that I was the one who let your animals out this morning. Well, technically, it was Poppy, but I was her accomplice. And I will admit I didn’t know what was happening until after the fact, but I had a feeling she wasn’t up to anything good, and I didn’t try to stop her.”
Luce doesn’t say anything for a full minute. She just stares at the reins in her hands, and it’s absolutely excruciating.
Finally, she looks up. “I know.”
“You do? How?”
She raises her eyebrows and snorts. “Seriously? The majority of the angst in my life can be traced back to the two of you, as history tends to repeat itself in this place. Also, you realize you are dressed like a Navy SEAL. Or at least what Sloan Edwards thinks a Navy SEAL should look like.”
I stare down at my entirely black outfit.
“If you knew, then why did you offer me a ride?”
Luce shrugs. “At first, it was fun making you sweat. Both figuratively and literally. But also, I’m tired of being your enemy, Sloan. I figured if you and Poppy were going to continue acting like mean girls, I was going to make my own choice and take the high road. I hoped at least one of you would come around, and if you didn’t, I’d at least sleep better at night.”
I’m tired of this too. I may not actually be Sloan, but I would hope that she’d want this feud to end as well.
“So what’s the other thing?” Luce interrupts my thoughts.
My throat goes dry with the realization that I’m only halfway done with my confession.
“I signed you up for the pageant.”
Luce stops her horse. “What?”
“I put your name down. Poppy said you wanted to compete. If you don’t want to do it, I can tell her it was me. I just wanted you to have the chance to try.”
“Why did you do that?”
I attempt to wrangle all of the stray thoughts from the last few days that led me to write down her name.
“I think, like you, I’m ready for this place to be different. All that stuff we did to you back in high school was wrong, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to see it that way. I know I should have stopped Poppy this morning. I know there are probably a million other things I could also do. I really am sorry about your animals.” I stroke Buttercup’s neck.
Luce takes a deep breath, as if processing all of it.
She looks over. “Don’t sweat it. We’re good, Sloan.”
I get an unexpected swell of emotion at her words, and for a moment, I think I might even cry.
“So, can we start fresh? I really would love to come out and visit your farm. I have had literal dreams about your goat cheese.”
Luce doesn’t look at me but nods. “I’d like that.”
Buttercup snorts as if she too approves.
We ride the rest of the way to Sloan’s beach house without saying much more.
When we reach the back deck, I dismount and offer to get some water for the horses. By the time I come back out with a water pitcher and glasses, the horses have already found a rain barrel and are drinking their fill.
I hold up the pitcher to Luce. “I’m sorry I don’t have much more to offer you than water. I’m unfortunately out of wine.”
Luce raises a brow. “You drink now?”
I nod. “I’d give up my firstborn for a Pinot Grigio.”
She smiles. “I can’t help you out there, but I may be able to do better.”
She reaches into one of her horse’s packs and pulls out a large wine bottle. “You know about the cheese, but I did not tell you about my other new hobby. I have a big wild strawberry patch at the back of my property. The berries are small, but they make a pretty potent wine.”
I hand her the glasses. She pours, and each of us take one of Sloan’s lawn chairs.
“Cheers.” We clink glasses, and as I bring the glass to my lips, my eyes drift to the blue cottage next door, its windows closed and dark.
“Still into him, huh?”
Luce’s question startles me.
“Is that surprising?”
She tilts her head to the side. “I guess not, but I kind of thought I saw something with Fletch the other night.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “No. We’re barely friends. And completely wrong for each other. Why would you even think that?”
She shrugs. “Just a vibe.”
“Are you?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose. “Into Fletch?”
“No. Spencer. Or Fletch too, I guess. Either?”
Luce laughs. A hard, single ha. “That’s a hard no on both.”
I’m still piecing together what I thought I knew in the context of our conversation a few moments ago.
“I just thought about the other night, in the islands, and how you and Spencer…in high school…”
She puts her hand on my arm. “Before we completely start over, I think I should confess something. I wasn’t really into him back then either. I think I just saw the opportunity to finally have something you wanted. I wanted to be the chosen one for once.
“Okay.” She holds out her glass. “Enough talking. Let’s have a drink. To new beginnings.”
I cheers it with mine. “To new beginnings.”
My wine goes down in a single gulp. I hold up my now empty glass, which Luce promptly refills.
“Wow!” I tell her. “You aren’t kidding around. This is delicious!”
She tips her glass and takes a sip. “Yeah, it’s good. But I was serious earlier. Go easy. This stuff is potent.”