A Tiara Under the Tree

Dominic gave Philly a wink, which wiped away any worry lines off Philly’s face. He held out his large hand for her to take. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll get everyone something?”

Philly eagerly left the huddle to go off with Dominic. She squealed in delight when he picked her up to ride his shoulders. They left the waiting room and Waverly led Kimber over to the couch.

“Quite the man you have there,” Amelia pointed out, bumping Waverly’s shoulder when she sat down next to her.

“He’s not my man,” Waverly said, but she beamed. She loved the idea of Dominic being hers—more than she wanted to admit.

“Good to know.”

The three ladies left in the waiting room all glanced up at the doorway. Waverly’s lip moved upward at the sight of Vera. The current Miss South Georgia wore a white-and-royal-blue sash over a silver-and-royal-blue pageant gown. While Waverly wore her tiara, she paired it with something more casual, like her pink sweats—typical Saturday-afternoon attire for cleaning out the back of Grits and Glam Gowns.

“Hi, Vera.” Amelia stood up and greeted the competition with her arms stretched out. “What are you doing here?”

Vera gave Amelia an air kiss on both cheeks and a light pat on the shoulders. “I was fulfilling my duties as Miss South Georgia, visiting the children, when I passed Philly in the corridor. She said Lexi was in labor. How is she?”

“She’s fine,” Kimber said coolly. “You should really go. This is for family.”

Stiffening, Vera rolled her eyes. “I’ve known Lexi longer than any of you. If anyone deserves to be here, it’s me.”

“Everything okay, babe?”

Waverly leaned back in her seat at the sound of the familiar voice. The journalist who agitated her in the infamous interview sidled up to Vera’s side. A camera hung around his neck with a guitar strap. His beady eyes bore down on Waverly, then widened with surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Waverly came to her feet and Kimber followed. “Get this jerk out of here.”

“Jerk?” Vera’s head bobbled back and forth. “This is Blu Fontaine.”

“I don’t care who the hell he is,” Waverly snapped. “You know exactly what he did.”

“Is this the jerk who antagonized you?” Kimber asked, her hands on her hips.

“Yes, it is.” Waverly fought the urge to clutch the opening of her shirt. This was the same man who asked her to take her top off and tried to lure her into his bed.

“Now, hold on a minute.” Blu held his hands out to slow everyone down. “I believe we have a misunderstanding.”

“The only misunderstanding is you thinking that tiara meant you could hit on me and then manipulate the footage to make me look crazy.”

“What?” Vera reared her head back.

“Babe,” he sputtered.

“You weren’t supposed to hit on her.”

Hearing the truth come out, Waverly’s blood boiled. Anger washed over her. Vera always played dirty behind closed curtains. She was known to take someone’s heels, hide a bow from a violinist moments before talent portions and even tattle to the pageant committee when contestants got together to party. But this took the cake. She was evil. “I knew you had something to do with it.”

She balled her fists. In her lifetime Waverly had never struck

a person, but she’d be damned if Vera hadn’t brought her the brink of violence. Waverly advanced a step. Vera didn’t back down. Instead the other woman squared her shoulders and tilted her chin forward, daring her.

“Go ahead.” Vera sneered. “You’ll be just like Johnny Del Vecchio.”

The mere mention of Waverly’s ex sent rage all through her being. The first time Waverly met the Morality Committee had been when they’d showed up at a street race Johnny was in. The commotion brought the local reporters, who were champing at the bit to expose unruly beauty queens. The committee had been sent an anonymous tip. Waverly had always suspected Vera. “Another thing you had something to do with.”

“You can’t prove a thing,” Vera said, miffed.

“I got enough.” Waverly seethed, raising a fist.

“Whoa!” someone yelled into the waiting room.