Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
“If it’s worth competing, it’s worth competing to win.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The next day, Hallie and I headed to City Hall to sign up for the pageant.
It was a long, squat gray-brick building, à la the sixties.
Except not cool sixties; tired, worn-out sixties.
Inside wasn’t a whole lot better. Gray vinyl flooring, mustard-colored accents.
A large statue of indeterminable shape in the center of the open foyer.
I still couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to be, but it was titled The Essence of All Things.
We headed to the Parks and Recreation office, Hallie chattering away about the kind of dress she wanted to find. Purple, of course.
“What can I do for you ladies?” Margie Rone asked. Margie had worked here in this office for decades. Her hair was dyed such a pale red it looked pink and it matched the bright pink lipstick she favored almost exactly.
“We want to sign up for the pageant,” Hallie said.
“We?” Her eyes darted to me and grew impossibly wide. “You’re both signing up?”
“Yes.” I crossed my arms. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no. It’s absolutely fine. Let me just…
” She pulled some paperwork from a filing cabinet next to her and began placing them on the counter.
“Here is the official sign-up form. We just need to know a little more about you. We’ll need this back by the end of the week.
With the entrance fee.” A second sheet followed.
“This here shows when all the rehearsals are.”
“That’s a lot of rehearsals,” I said. Especially for a small-town pageant that was happening in a month.
“This is the last one.” Margie slid another paper across the counter. “It’s a list of things you’ll need—outfits, shoes, that sort of thing.”
“This seems excessive.” The list filled up the entire page, front and back. This would be a fulltime job getting all this together, never mind attending the practices. How in the he—
“There’s my girl,” a voice sang behind us. “Did you think you could come to City Hall and not see me?”
“Aunt Ali.” Hallie rushed to the doorway and flung her arms around Ali’s waist.
“What’s this I hear about you signing up to be in the pageant?” Ali grinned down at her niece.
I leaned a hip against the counter. “Wow. Less than twenty-four hours. That gossip tree is on fire.”
“Nothing happens that I don’t know about. It’s part of my charm.” She winked.
“Iris is signing up, too.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say Iris was entering?” Ali pressed a hand to my forehead. “Are you dying? Hearing voices? Do you have a brain tumor?”
I scowled. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a pageant.”
“Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth?” She shook her head. “How did I not hear about this? Iris Sampson in a pageant. Oh, does Mae know? I should go text Mae.”
Everyone would know in hours, perhaps minutes. There was no turning back now.
Hallie and I watched as Ali wandered down the hallway to her office, muttering to herself.