“You and I are going to talk about this later,” she said, wagging a finger in front of Lilly’s nose.
“Sure. Sure.” Lilly giggled and pushed away Emily’s hand. “In the meantime, go find that poor kid some underwear.”
Chapter 8
The sky was robin’s-egg blue with just a few wispy clouds playing a slow game of tag as Emily, Chloe, Gigi, and Lilly made their trek down Anishinaabe Trail toward Main Street. Squirrels chattered from the branches of the mammoth old oak trees lining the path, and ragtime music floated up from the outdoor stage at Trillium Park. It was a perfect day for the Lilac Festival, but then again, it always was. It was in the bylaws of the island board of tourism that the second weekend in June must always be sunny, dry, and pleasant. Today was no exception.
Chloe kept a running commentary, snapping selfies every few seconds and telling Lilly all about her life back in San Antonio and how the mean girls at school often teased her, calling her giraffe because of her height and long legs. Emily knew about these girls, and they were mean. She’d made more than one phone call to a mean girl’s mom, but unfortunately, mean girls often get that way because they learn it at home. Emily had alienated an entire posse of mothers from her own neighborhood just for trying to stand up for her own kid. That kind of thing would never have flown on Wenniway Island. If one mom called another mom around here, somebody’s kid was going to get punished.
“Don’t let them get to you, sweetie,” Lilly said. “They’re just jealous because you’re so pretty. I was in the pageant world, you know, and nothing brings out the worst in a person like jealousy.”
Chloe skipped ahead a few steps and turned around to face them while walking backward, her red flip-flops slapping against the pavement. “Mom told me you were in a beauty pageant once. That sounds amazing. Was it fun?”
Lilly’s smile was momentarily wistful. “A few parts of it were fun, but overall, I wasn’t really cut out for it, plus the costumes and stuff were expensive. A bunch of people on the island chipped in so I could complete in the Miss Michigan Teen Starcatcher Pageant down in Lansing. That was pretty much a disaster.”
“Why was it a disaster?” Chloe spun once more and fell back into step between Emily and Lilly.
“Wardrobe malfunction.”
“What?”
Emily bit back a smile and turned her face so Lilly wouldn’t notice.
“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Gigi said.
Emily knew this story, and Gigi was right. Wardrobe malfunction? It really was more of an epic wardrobe clusterfuck so grand in scale it was probably the sort of horror story pageant mothers told their little girls around the campfire just to scare them into compliance.
Chloe had been a baby at the time, and in spite of Nick’s complaints, Emily splurged on an airline ticket from San Antonio to Lansing, taking back-to-back red-eyes so she wouldn’t have to pay for a motel, and so she wouldn’t be away a moment longer than necessary, but it was worth it just to be there.
Lilly had held up just fine during the swimsuit portion, managing to walk across a slippery stage in four-inch heels while keeping her face frozen in a Joker-esque smile, but during the evening gown segment, she’d accidentally stepped on the hem of her sparkly dress. Her sparkly strapless dress. She tripped gloriously and fell with a flourish, sliding toward the front of the stage like she was making a play for home plate. And when she sat up . . . her sparkly strapless dress didn’t. She popped right out of it. And there were her two big boobs, right up in the judges’ faces.
She didn’t realize at first and just sat there giggling, but when she tried to stand up, she just got more and more tangled in the damn chiffon skirt, effectively pulling her dress down even farther. The more she struggled, the worse it got. Finally, the judge from Ypsilanti took off his tuxedo jacket and tossed it to her while trying to avert his eyes. The only saving grace was that the pageant wasn’t televised, and it happened just before every person on the planet had a smartphone with a camera in it. If that happened today, the video would go viral faster than you could say, “Here she comes, Miss America.”
“I tripped and fell,” Lilly said. “I got up, and my dress didn’t.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, and Emily was incredibly proud of her sister’s handling of the situation. Then and now. Emily would have been so mortified that no hole on earth would have been deep enough to hide in.
“Your dress fell off?” Chloe’s gasp was appropriate to the occasion. “Seriously?”
“Well, not all the way off. Just the top part. So I guess it could have been worse, right? That’s something to be glad about. I guess being voted Miss Lilac Festival during my senior year of high school was pretty much the pinnacle of my beauty queen career.”
“Wow.” Chloe shook her head and stared down at her toes as they continued walking in silence.
“So, after the parade, how long am I stuck in the pie tent?” Emily asked a moment later, hoping to lighten the mood once more. Public humiliation was never a fun topic. Familiar, but not fun.
“Only an hour or two,” Lilly answered, swinging her pink sun hat by her side. “It’s actually a pretty good gig. You’ll be in the shade, you can hear the music, and everybody stops by to see you.”
Oh, awesome. That was great. Word was certainly out by now that Emily was back on the island, and no doubt everyone would stop by and ask her the same three questions. When are you moving back to the island? Whatever happened to that guy you ran away with? And finally, did you know Reed was in town?
There was really no way to avoid any of it. At least this way she’d get it all over with in one day. Everyone could come and look at her and make their assessment, form their opinions, and then go whisper about her and her questionable life choices while stuffing their pieholes with actual pie. But hey, if Lilly could laugh off wiping out on a stage and ending up topless in front of a panel of judges, Emily could handle an afternoon full of pseudo-friendly interrogations. Maybe Mrs. Bostwick would stop by, and under the guise of handing her a pie, Emily could trip and nail her in the face. Now there was the silver lining.
“Lilacs aren’t really my thing, Dad.”