The Bachelor and the Beauty Queen

The corners of Lexi’s lipstick-free lips turned down. “Why does that not surprise me?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t knock my hood.”

“Berkeley Lake is far from a hood.” Lexi laughed. He liked her laugh, enjoyed the way the corners of her eyes crinkled. “The last time I checked, your hood—” she used air quotes “—was listed as the most affluent neighborhood in the state of Georgia.”

“Aw, don’t make me sound bougie.”

“Well—” Lexi shrugged “—if the mansion fits.”

Stephen hollered out a laugh, something he hadn’t done in a while. An elderly couple walking by stopped and turned. The woman glanced at Stephen’s dining partner and shook her head disapprovingly before reaching for a phone from her pocketbook. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear she took a picture of the two of them. Lexi, still laughing, glanced over her shoulder and spotted the woman and offered a friendly wave. Stephen noticed the way the woman dropped her phone back in her purse and scurried off.

“What is the deal with you and your mother?”

The space between them quickly became quiet. The construction team across the playground stopped drilling. Even the birds stopped chirping. A proverbial needle on the record scratched their conversation to a halt.

Lexi took a long sip of her tea before deciding on an answer. When she did, her tone was low but diplomatic. “You said you wanted to talk about the pageant this weekend.”

Stephen shrugged his shoulders. “Are we not allowed to discuss both?”

“What does it matter to you?” Lexi folded her arms across her chest.

“I thought we were getting to know each other,” said Stephen, “being neighborly, as you said. What happened to that idea?”

A few minutes blew by, enough time to allow Lexi to process how to answer him. He interjected right before she opened her mouth to explain, “And don’t give me one of those rehearsed answers.”

“What?” Lexi choked out. “I resent that.”

“All right, I’m going to let you off the hook on your mother for now. Maybe this weekend we can talk some more about what’s going on?”

“Why my mother?” Lexi shook her head from side to side. “How is your relationship with your mother?” she asked, folding her arms across her breasts.

“A bit strained right now,” Stephen confessed. “Only because she blames me and Nate for not teaching the girls how to speak Spanish.”

A few seconds ticked away before Lexi dropped her arms, her lips pinched into a threatening smile. “What?”

“Imagine how ashamed she was of us when we brought them back home over spring break.”

“Your brother didn’t speak in Spanish to them?”

Stephen chose his words carefully, not wanting to shed

a negative light on the girls’ maternal grandparents. “I think my brother had good intentions by not wanting to exclude Enzo and Jeanette.”

“I remember Mr. and Mrs. Gravel,” said Lexi. “She sang at a wedding I did not too long ago. This explains Philly’s talent.”

Stephen leaned forward, ignoring the awkward way the cold metal of the picnic table holes rubbed against his elbows. “Weddings and pageant gowns. Why both?”

“Don’t forget prom gowns.” As if asked this question before, Lexi nodded her pretty head and smiled, not her typical pageant smile, but a genuine one, one that reached her eyes. “I love dresses, always have. My Grandma Bea introduced me to a famous GRITS.”

“What?”

“Girls Raised in the South.” Lexi sighed, slightly annoyed with his interruption. “Ann Lowe.”

“Who?” Stephen felt his lips press together when the name did not ring a bell.

“She was only one of the first noted African-American designers.” Lexi gasped out of irritation. “She designed for a lot of actresses. Olivia de Havilland’s dress when she won an Oscar for...”

“To Each His Own,” Stephen finished for her. When her brows rose, he explained, “I used to spend Saturdays watching old movies with my mother.”