A Tiara Under the Tree

“Good, because I hate to be the one to break it to you, Waverly, but you were nothing more than a project for Mr. Crowne. Like his cars, he put you back together, and now you’re off for the next big thing. Which brings you to me. His job is done and now I’m here to help.”

Waverly wanted to dispute Anson and put him in his place. Every fiber of her being told her Anson was wrong, but as the official fall season kicked in and holidays slipped from Halloween to Thanksgiving, Waverly accepted the hard truth: Dominic was gone.

Chapter 6

Over the weeks since she’d accepted Dominic’s departure, Waverly concentrated on her runoff. She told herself she was no longer torn by glimpses of the traditional life outside the pageant. With the runoff coming, Waverly was ready to secure the support of the committee and be nominated to go forward to participate in Miss Georgia. The floor-to-ceiling window offered the perfect view of the evening hustle and bustle of the townspeople of Southwood, Georgia. Christmas garlands outlined the doors of the local businesses, accompanied by a big red bow above the doors. Red, white and green lights hung from building to building, crisscrossing the streets. The view offered an inside look of what some families were getting for dinner tonight—Chinese takeout from across the street or pizza from the parlor adjacent to Grits and Glam Studios. Cars heading to their suburban homes crowded the cobblestone streets, along with people getting ready to head home or who came to town for some of Southwood’s fine restaurants, like Sonya’s, right around the corner, or Valencia, which Waverly had helped open with a giant pair of scissors four months ago.

Waverly knew who was heading on dates and who was getting some early Christmas shopping done. But most of all, for Waverly the view offered the biggest piece of gossip for the night. The doors to Crowne’s Garage were finally reopening.

Dominic had returned.

Whether she said his name out loud or in her head, Dominic’s frame was conjured up and appeared at the rolling garage door to his shop. Even with the sunset shadowing his face, Waverly knew his body. A low, guttural sound rippled in the back of her throat at the sight of his wide, muscular shoulders and tapered waist. His large arms lingered over the handle above his head

, causing his biceps to bulge. The fitted jeans he wore hung a perfect inch or two just below his hips and hugged those massive tree trunk legs.

Waverly controlled her pulse beating against her wrists by pulling her hands into her lap. How could he cause this much nervousness after three months with no word? She ought to march right over there and thank him for leaving. This had allowed Waverly to shine at pageant appearances without the threat of gossip. She delved into not just the pageant but making new friends in town. She had a life. Turning her face from the window, Waverly rested her right hand on the arm of the hot-pink sofa to block out Dominic and focused on the two little girls standing in the center of the stage used for the talent portions of pageant shows. Old glitter twinkled under the fluorescent lights on the floor beneath the twins’ pink patent leather Mary Jane shoes. Black scuff marks were scratched into the black topping of the stage from the tap dance showdown yesterday for tryouts for the Christmas pageant. Little handprints smudged the mirrored walls along the ballet barre. Larger handprints also smudged the glass at a higher point. Chantal taught beginner ballet to some of the ladies in town.

Maybe we need to get new flooring, Waverly thought as Novella and Keisha Irby hit the high note at different times. Waverly winced from the noise, and the back of her neck ached when she tried to crane her head toward the window. This time of year, the sun set earlier than usual. The figure at the garage, however, remained.

“No. Oh my God,” cried the girls’ mother, Rhonda, from the other end of the hot-pink couch. Rhonda turned out to be the lady from the initial Christmas Advisory Council meeting in all leopard print. When the news of the squabble spread around town, Rhonda approached Waverly and let her know she was all right in her book. Rhonda now set down boxed Advent calendars Waverly had put together for the parents of pageant girls, and pressed her gold nails against her temples. A dozen gold bangles around her wrists jingled.

The girls stopped their singing and twitched nervously onstage in their matching pink-and-white polka-dot leggings and lightweight pink sweaters. “Tell me you hear this new high-pitched dolphin sound they’re doing, Waverly.”

Thankful for the distraction, Waverly turned away from the window—again. She needed to process the thin, strange twinge in her heart. This man turned his back on her, abandoned her without a word. What did it matter if Dominic returned to Southwood?

“Maybe we need to take a break?” Waverly offered, standing up. Her coral-colored toes wiggled in her brown leather gladiator sandals as she headed toward the break room. Lexi always kept snacks and drinks in the fridge to rehydrate herself after a jog around town while getting her back to her prebaby body. Waverly wished she’d look as good as Lexi had the day after giving birth. “We’ve been going at this for a half hour straight.”

This was her last appointment for the evening at Grits and Glam Studios. Waverly loved working with the local children, molding them into the perfect presenters onstage for pageants or whatever the need. Lately, with the Christmas holidays rapidly approaching, she’d donned her vocal coach hat when she wasn’t campaigning for votes for the runoff.

As if on cue, Andrew poked his blond head in from the kitchen. His cheeks were rosy and blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did someone say a break?”

“You know what?” Rhonda asked, standing up and smoothing down her red dress with gold accents. “We should probably head on over to church.” Her announcement evoked a whine from her girls. “I can’t see wasting your time anymore, Waverly.”

“Don’t leave,” pleaded Andrew. Waverly cocked a brow at him. “Waverly’s just received a special delivery, and I can’t imagine her keeping these to herself.” He stepped back into the kitchen. As the reigning Miss Southwood, Waverly often received bouquets of flowers or signature dishes from any event she attended. The flowers always went back to the newly opened Southwood Elderly Care Community Center. The food, Waverly often shared.

“I’m sorry for the interruption.” Waverly offered a smile of apology toward Miss Rhonda, the formal name she called her when they were in the studio. On the rare occasions Waverly hung out at happy hour, Miss Rhonda became Randy Rhonda on account of how crazy things got when her twins were with their father for the weekend. “I’m not expecting anything.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Rhonda, patting Waverly on the back. “When other people get surprises, I feel like I’ve received one, as well. And this will give me something to report back at prayer services.”

Waverly gave Rhonda the eye—the one she learned from her mother, Jillian Leverve. Rhonda, also being a mom, recognized the eye and held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just going to get my prayer on. My lips are sealed.” For emphasis or plain old show, Rhonda made a zip-and-lock motion with her hands against her lips.

Suddenly, the mouthwatering scent of sweet, decadent chocolate danced through the air. The twins squealed in delight, causing Waverly to spin at her piano bench. Her mouth nearly dropped to the floor at the oversize bouquet of cupcakes carried in by Andrew. The six-foot-plus assistant’s entire upper body was concealed by the cupcake arrangement. Only his legs and hands were visible.

“Can we receive the surprise, too, Mama?” asked Novella.

“Please,” Keisha chimed in, her brown hands folded under her chin as if in prayer.

“What on earth?” Waverly peered around the arrangement of cupcakes: chocolate with chocolate sprinkles or designs, French vanilla with fluffy flower drops, pink strawberry drizzled with chocolate and sliced strawberries. A trail of dark chocolate curls formed behind Andrew from his walk into the studio. A white gift card stuck out from a stem in the center of the peach cupcake and bore her first initial, W. Someone had clout. These cupcakes were made only during the summertime. It had been months since she’d had one.

“Someone knows you have a sweet tooth,” Andrew cooed, winking at the twins. Waverly held the card close to her chest, knowing he wanted to know who sent her these. He scoffed at Waverly’s attempt at privacy and focused on the twins. “Look, girls, these Pretty in Pearlicious Pink cupcakes match your dresses.”

“Someone doesn’t know I’m entering a runoff for the Miss Georgia Pageant.” Waverly groaned. She pointed toward the girls, who squealed in anticipation of her next few words. Waverly raised another brow at Rhonda. “I can’t eat these by myself. You guys will be doing me a favor if you take a few off my hands.”

With a playful dramatic huff, Rhonda reluctantly nodded. “Fine, if we must. But if I can’t fit into my Christmas dress, I’m blaming you,” she said, grabbing a caramel-swirled cupcake and licking off the creamy frosting. “Come on, girls. Let’s go.”

Waverly waited for the bells above the door to stop jingling as the young family left to pull the card away from her chest. Andrew still leered, but he knew all her secrets anyway. A man who knew your true weight was your best friend.

“What’s it say?” Andrew bounced in his red Crocs. “Who are they from?”