Chapter Twenty-One #2
“They’re all so pretty,” Delores said.
“So are you,” Sylvia said. “But you’ve got the smarts and the charm to go with it.”
Milly had hightailed it to the other end of the boardwalk now, kids in tow, directing the girls to loop around behind the Fun Zone and back to the Pavilion to find out if they made it through to the next round.
Once they were walking in an orderly manner, Sylvia allowed herself to step back and enjoy the spectacle for a moment, remembering her own walk down that very boardwalk.
Remembering how she’d dared to glance over to Walter in the judges’ booth and seen that look in his eye, a look that made her feel like she was the only girl on the stage.
Oh, how her life had changed that day, eighteen years ago, more than she could have ever imagined.
Everything was filled with promise and possibility, youth and beauty.
Back then she had nothing and everything.
She could have ended up with another husband in another life.
A thousand roads lay ahead of her then, leading to unknown futures.
Now her life’s path was determined. She didn’t long for the youth or the beauty or the possibility; she longed for her life and her marriage to return to the way it was, she longed for stability and assurances.
She belonged here with her family, and she only hoped they could stay.
When the last girl, number 50, made her way down the boardwalk, the crowd cheered, and Sylvia went to the judges’ booth to collect their votes for the next round.
The band played another set, and people took breaks to grab ice cream Balboa Bars and frozen bananas.
But Walter’s seat was still empty, and Sylvia couldn’t shake the queasy feeling in her stomach that something was wrong.
“Who’s going to announce the winners in Walter’s absence?” Hal Peterson asked from his seat in the booth.
“He’ll be here,” Sylvia said as cheerfully as she could. “He just had some business to attend to.”
Hal raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure he does,” he said, which garnered a chuckle from Herb, who ran a tiki hut on the peninsula.
It took everything in Sylvia’s power not to snap back at them, ask Hal exactly what he meant by that and find out what he’d heard, but that would do her no good.
It was possible these men knew about the high-stakes poker games that had been going on in these parts for years.
Heck, they probably participated in them, but with better luck by the looks of things.
There was no point engaging with them now.
“I’ll be needing your votes,” she said, holding out her hand to collect the judges’ scoring cards.
When the contestants walked again, it was just twenty of them.
She was glad Delores had made it into the second round; she hoped a local girl would be part of the winner’s circle.
All the young ladies strode down the pathway glowing and radiant in their youth and the warm spring sunshine.
Each one in this round had the figure, legs, and charisma to win.
They sure made them pretty these days. This time they took a seat on chairs lined up on the stage, right ankle crossed over left.
The judges had to select their choice for first, second, and third place as well as a winner for Miss Poised, Miss Personality, and Miss Suntanned, but not before each one was given a chance to wow her audience with a glimpse into her character.
Walter always asked the questions, but Sylvia would have to take charge this time.
Before anyone could protest, she walked onto the stage and took the microphone again.
“Congratulations to every single young lady who was brave enough to come out and take a chance today.” She waited for the audience to applaud. “And now it’s time to get to know our contestants. Number Seventeen, please join me.”
Seventeen sauntered to the center of the stage in a stunning white one-piece halter-style swimsuit with a large bow at the bust and stood slightly angled to the judges with a hand on her hip.
“You clearly follow fashion,” Sylvia said. “But what else makes you interesting?”
“Well, I love to cook, sew, and spend time with my friends. I like music and dancing, and I think that makes me interesting. And I hope it’ll make me a good wife to my husband.”
“Thank you,” Sylvia said and called up number 23.
“If your life is like a novel, what do you think will happen in the next chapter?”
Number 23 didn’t miss a beat. “In the next chapter of my life I hope to find a wonderful husband to love and support, and I’d like us to have three babies.”
As she called the rest of the contestants onto the stage and tried to coax differing responses out of them, she got similar answers over and over.
Marriage. A husband. Children. She didn’t blame them, she’d wanted that too, and she hoped Judith would find love and happiness someday, of course.
But she also hoped for more. Marriage wasn’t the only measure of success.
Couldn’t they also strive for a little self-sufficiency and independence?
If she had, would things be different now?
Could she have helped Walter avoid this mess he’d got them into?
“Number Forty-Five,” she called out, and Delores joined her center stage. “Hello, dear,” Sylvia said. “How do you envision making a difference for future generations?”
Sylvia expected Delores to give the same trite response about raising children and feeding them and her future husband nourishing meals.
“My parents own Mason’s Pharmacy in town, and it’s my hope to take over the family business someday.
I’ve grown up on Balboa Island, and it’s important to me that it keeps its character and charm as a small, family place to call home with plenty of fun stores and family businesses.
I work there part-time now but I hope to save up enough money to buy it from them when they are ready to retire. ”
The audience cheered, especially the islanders.
When Sylvia collected the judges’ votes once again and began to tally them up, Hal Peterson stood, presumably to take his place on the stage and announce the winners, but Sylvia wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Time to announce Miss Balboa,” she said, heading quickly back to the stage, sorting through the slips of paper as she walked.
Delores hadn’t made the cut for Miss Poised, Miss Personality, or Miss Suntanned; but for the big prize, Miss Balboa, she was tied in first place.
Sylvia made an executive decision. Miss Balboa should go to a Balboa girl.
“Thank you so much for coming out today to celebrate our very own Bathing Beauty Contest, sponsored by The Island Club, where we have tennis, swimming, and fine dining.” She looked around at the crowd, pleased with herself for squeezing that into the announcement early on.
As she surveyed the hundreds, maybe even thousands, in front of her, she saw mostly young men and women eagerly awaiting the results, tourists who’d traveled in for the day and pockets of neighborhood folks too.
Mina and Tony from Hershey’s Market, Teddy and his wife Faye were there, and Sylvia wondered if he’d been at the closing with Walter earlier.
Teddy looked carefree; that might be a good sign, but where was Walter?
Delores’s mother Maggie was cheering her on.
Even Joe had taken a break from his ferry service to witness the contest. Seymour would be working the ferry; it never sat idle, especially with crowds like these.
Sylvia was doing her best. They were in the homestretch and were going to get through this.
She smiled and waved to a group of women from the club, but their expressions were not joyful or enthusiastic like those of the others watching.
They looked sour, maybe even angry. Perhaps, if they knew of her family’s financial troubles, her mention of the club was making them worry about their memberships and the dues they’d already paid for the year.
Could they be talking among themselves about getting taken for a ride?
Calling her and Walter frauds, thieves, spendthrifts?
She couldn’t stand the idea that they might think differently of her now, that she could have lost their respect and might never be perceived the same way again.
She looked away, back to the smiling, carefree students eagerly awaiting the announcement of Miss Balboa, and tried to stay focused on the task at hand.
“We are so thrilled that you are enjoying everything that our community has to offer, and we’re just so excited to announce our 1956 Miss Balboa.” The crowd roared with applause, and Sylvia smiled but couldn’t help glancing back out to the women once more.
When the sashes had been placed, trophies awarded, and Delores crowned Miss Balboa 1956 and celebrated, Sylvia escorted the six winners to the front of the banana stand for a group photo.
Nothing said Bal Week like six gorgeous swimsuit-clad gals with a backdrop of saltwater taffy, Don’s fresh homemade candies, and hand-dipped frozen bananas.
When the pictures were taken and the reporters took down the winners’ names, Sylvia made sure to speak to the reporters herself and mention the club once again.
As the girls shuffled excitedly back to the Pavilion, Sylvia found herself standing alone at the banana stand.
“Can I get you anything, Mrs. Johnson?” the man behind the counter asked.
“Oh, thank you, Don. Sure, I’ll take a banana, dipped—”
“With nuts, I know,” he said and smiled.
She handed him her change, but he shook his head adamantly. “You must be kidding me. You keep us in business with this here celebration you put on. I couldn’t be more grateful to you and your husband.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning to scan the crowd for Walter again, praying he was all right. She was about to take a bite of the banana when Milly came up behind her.
“What are you doing here all alone? You were wonderful,” she said, excitedly, pulling her in for a hug. “Really, you looked like a star up there on that stage.”
“Thanks, Milly,” she said, grateful that she now had some company. “I didn’t really have a choice; Walter couldn’t make it in the end.”
“That’s a shame.” Milly looked concerned.
“I wish he could have seen how fantastic you were. You should always announce the winners. And next time, tell them you’re our very own Miss Balboa 1938!
” Milly linked her arm through Sylvia’s.
“Your Judith is such a doll; she offered to watch the kids while I came to find you.”
“I’m glad you did,” Sylvia said. She hadn’t known Milly all that long, and she certainly seemed to have her own set of challenges, but as they walked side by side through the crowds, she thought maybe Milly was exactly the kind of friend she needed right now.
Sylvia couldn’t bring herself to walk past her house on South Bay Front and risk seeing the new owners through the windows, so when she exited the ferry, she walked up to Balboa Avenue, strolled past Ruby, Diamond, and Sapphire Avenues and kept going until she reached Onyx.
She stood outside for a moment staring at the run-down cottage, then she reluctantly let herself in through the front door.
There were boxes stacked from floor to ceiling with only a narrow pathway leading through the living room.
“Hello?” she called out.
“I’m over here,” Walter called back. She followed the sound of his voice to the staircase, where he sat with a coffee mug and a bottle of whiskey next to him.
“Where the hell have you been?” she asked, furious. She’d been panicked all day that something horrible had happened to him, and now, instead of relief at the sight of him, she felt mildly repulsed.
“I couldn’t do it,” he said, looking miserable. “I handed the money over, all of it, and I just couldn’t get up in front of all those people at the contest and put on a happy face.”
Sylvia knew how he felt. She hadn’t wanted to get up in front of all those people either—it had felt wretched—but she did it anyway.
“So you just left it all to me,” she said, grabbing his bottle and taking a swig.
“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Yeah, that’s what you keep saying.” She set the bottle back on the staircase and walked into the living room, took a deep breath, and ripped open the first box.