The Begonia Bribe

by Alyse Carlson

  Annie nodded, conceding the point.

  Not two minutes later, Cam saw two older men crossing the grass together, chatting amicably. Evangeline rushed to one of them and kissed her husband. He was thirty years older and two inches shorter, but they really seemed to adore one another.

  “Daddy! Thank you for coming.” Cam kissed her dad’s cheek.

  “Well, another free supper . . .” he said.

  Cam tilted her head, but he was unabashed.

  “So why don’t you show me this project before they let us eat? Is it where all that yellow tape is?”

  “No. I will explain that later. Come with me.” Cam led her dad to the band shell, where they slipped behind the curtain.

  “Oh boy. Somebody doesn’t like pageants much.”

  “It’s true. And we can’t have it painted. There’s no time. Can you think of anything?”

  “I’ve got some lattice. We could weave . . . what’s this . . . Miss Honeysuckle?”

  “Begonia!” Cam scolded.

  He waved a hand in front of his face. It was the same difference to him. “Weave some flowers and leaves into the lattice, then it’s just a couple hours’ work to put it up. Wait ’til the day of the pageant and you don’t risk anyone ruining that, too.”

  “That’s perfect! And I bet Nelly’s Nurseries would help us out. It increases their visibility. I wish we could cover this in the meantime so the girls could practice up here. But I think you’re right. It’s better to avoid further vandalism.”

  They headed back to the tents.

  “Is Rob coming?” her father asked.

  “He was here already. He was assigned the story.”

  Her dad chuckled. “I bet he likes that.”

  “He requested a brawl.”

  “He may get one! Your mother tried to enter you into one of these once, but I’d seen what could happen. No, sirree, not my girls!”

  “That doesn’t sound like her at all. How’d she get involved?”

  “Oh, she and Lydia were friends. They went to high school together.”

  “That’s right. Nell Norton, too, apparently. So that was what all of you had to talk about last night?”

  “Well, sure. We had lots to talk about.” Her father seemed to attract far too many women who thought he was the perfect eligible older man. She didn’t say anything; she wanted him happy. She just wished he’d meet someone nice and settle down again.

  When they arrived back at the supper tent, Cam could see about a dozen participants coming across the lawn, mostly in mother-daughter pairs, though one young lady was with her dad and one held the hands of both parents. Cam didn’t like to make assumptions, but she guessed the girl with both parents was at least somewhat local. Families who began pageants so early in life just couldn’t all take off work for a whole week every time there was a final. She was sure all the dads would be there by Thursday night when the competition really got under way, but not for the opening supper.

  * * *

  She kept an eye on things as everybody arrived. Rob had returned and brought her a plate of chicken and salad. More than once, he’d seen her forget to eat when she got busy, and the consequences weren’t pretty. She wondered if she should mention Telly Stevens but decided it had to wait until after the supper. Then she’d tell Rob and Annie together.

  “I wonder where Mindy is,” Cam said as Rob handed her the food and she thankfully took a few bites.

  “Mindy from this afternoon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe two kids at once is a lot to handle at a pageant. Lizzie didn’t really want to be here.”

  “She’s the little one?”

  “Yeah, but I got the feeling the older one was only doing it for her mom, too, even if she gave the expected answers.”

  “She’s playing a role for her mom?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Maybe, but I bet she’s not the only girl who feels that way. I talked to three whom I got that impression from, and I only met about half the girls.”

  “Are you writing that?”

  “Not until it’s over, and not mainstream—I’ll change names of everything, but yeah, I can’t not write it. I won’t mention the pageant name or location. I’ll just say a Southern state. The Tribune is too conservative to cast doubt on an old institution like pageants. I can find a magazine, though, that wants the article.”

  Cam sighed. “I guess I don’t disagree. Thank you for not outing here, though.”

  “I bet it’s the case everywhere. Some mom was a former beauty queen, or mom wasn’t a former beauty queen and is bitter and has a pretty daughter . . . wants to live through her child . . .”

  Cam hated that she thought he was probably right, but she suspected he was.

  * * *

  When Cam thought everyone had arrived who was going to, she began her announcements.

  “Can I get your attention?” She waited for the faces to turn. “My name is Cam Harris, and I am coordinator for this event. That means if you have any trouble or questions, you can come to me. We have offices on the second floor in the Patrick Henry Hotel, which isn’t actually a hotel, as I think you’ve all heard.” She pointed at the beautiful old building across from the northeast corner of the park. “I hope to talk to everyone regularly enough that you don’t have to go there. But if you need something and can’t find me, they will know where I am. I have an agenda and some standalone media packets up here.” She indicated the box next to her. “The bigger deal, though—all this coverage will go to your local newspapers, but if you are from a city whose local paper has closed or gone online, or if you are lucky enough to be from a place with a new paper, I’d appreciate your help in identifying those.” Cam held up a clipboard. “This has a sign-up sheet to add to our email list. An actual URL or email address is nice, but if you don’t have it, the page or paper name and city will do. I’m pretty good at finding these press sites.” She smiled and the audience chortled.

  “Now, the goal tonight is to get comfortable and get to know a few people, so when I bring you an agenda, I am also bringing you a Bingo board. Instead of letters and numbers, it has things like”—Cam looked at the page to read a few examples—“plays polo or tap dances. I want you—the girls here, not their parents—to ask other girls questions and if they do anything on your Bingo board. If they do, they can sign their name. There will be a prize for the first Bingo and also for the girl who signs the most different boards. Only one signature per board, please. And don’t start until everyone has one.”

  Cam handed a stack of handouts to Evangeline and together they distributed the packets. It didn’t take long, as all the girls had come close when Cam started explaining.

  She had to laugh. As soon as she said “Go,” a half-dozen girls descended on Lizzie Blankenship, undoubtedly for the box that read “is under four feet tall.”

  She was still laughing when Mindy gave a choked sound. Cam made her way over to her friend.

  “Is this true?” Mindy asked.

  Cam, thinking Mindy was upset her daughter had been swarmed, looked with confusion at the woman. The goal of that particular box in the Bingo game was to give positive attention to the smallest girl. “Is what true?”

  “Telly Stevens . . . a judge for this event? I just thought . . . he was a judge last year . . .”

  “Was he? I didn’t realize . . .” She wasn’t willing to explain it was no longer true, as she just couldn’t afford to open that can of worms at the moment. She wasn’t sure why being a judge two years in a row would be an issue.

  “Why?” Mindy asked.

  Cam looked around. Nobody else was close enough to hear. “Honestly, the television station required it or they wouldn’t air us. Is there a problem?”

  “No.” But if ever a “no” had meant “yes” more, Cam hadn’t heard it. She felt guilty for feeling relieved that Mindy didn’t want to share.

  She patted Mindy’s arm. “I don�
��t think he will bother you.”

  * * *

  When the girls had been seen off for the night, Cam groaned. The sponsors and judges were having a high-end cocktail party in the Patrick Henry offices at the same time, and Cam knew they would wonder where Telly Stevens was. She had to make an appearance. To top it off, Annie had in fact, lost Cam’s dad. He was nowhere to be found.

  She thought Neil Patrick had probably dragged her dad up to the party, so Cam found Annie and Rob and they made their way there.

  The party was surprisingly pleasant, possibly helped by Telly’s absence. Lydia Fennewick seemed to be orchestrating people into small groups. Her dad was indeed at the center of one of these, all women but himself.

  Cam made the rounds and said hello to all, making sure each knew what her schedule for the week would be. When Evangeline arrived to oversee everything, Cam made her excuses about needing to send press releases and escaped with Rob, leaving Annie to extricate her dad.

  It was time to confess to Rob what had happened.

  CHAPTER 5

  Cam’s phone buzzed. It was the party supply company that was meant to make a delivery of thousands of tissue flowers early the next day. Their van was broken.

  “I don’t have anything to transport them. Are you sure you don’t have another way?” she asked.

  The negative response verified this project would probably give her an ulcer by sending a pain through her abdomen.

  “Well, I’ll have to brainstorm. We definitely need them by tomorrow, but I need to see what I can find to transport them.” She snapped her phone shut.

  “That sounded bad,” Rob said.

  “Forty thousand tissue dogwood flowers and their van is broken. They can’t deliver!”

  “I hate to ask the obvious here, but why do you need dogwood flowers? And if you do, why couldn’t they just hold the pageant when the dogwoods are in bloom?”

  Cam rolled her eyes. She’d asked Evangeline Patrick the same thing, but she wouldn’t admit that to Rob. “The local pageants are held in spring, almost all when the dogwoods are in bloom. The teen class is Miss Dogwood—the state flower—and the theme unites all the pageants. But the state pageant is a week long and the local winners all need time to prepare, so they hold it in the summer.”

  “I see,” he said. He looked skeptical.

  “Where are we going to get a van?” Cam asked.

  “You ask Petunia?”

  “Yeah, that’ll go over well.” Cam knew her sister had already had her quota of Evangeline Patrick for the day. It didn’t help that the word “pageant” also riled Petunia. Petunia hated any system that dubbed any person superior to others. “I’ll call Nick,” Cam said, fearing a bad pattern had been set. “You go back inside and get Annie.”

  * * *

  Cam pressed “N” and Nick’s number popped up.

  “Yeh?” Nick answered. It was typical. He wasn’t one for niceties or . . . words, really. But he had a heart of gold and treated her sister like a gem—something not easy, in Cam’s opinion. Petunia was definitely prickly. Cam thought Nick probably deserved sainthood.

  “Nick? Can you talk?” She hoped Petunia wasn’t right there.

  “Yeah?” Nick said.

  Cam waited, but that was all he said.

  “Is there a good time in the next fourteen hours for me to borrow the catering van for . . . maybe three hours?”

  “One to four A.M.?”

  “Preferably not, but I’m desperate enough.” She hoped he was joking.

  “Last catering job is done at ten. You help me clean it up, it’s yours until nine in the morning.”

  “Deal! Thanks, Nick!” Cam hung up just as Rob reappeared with Annie.

  “You’re a chicken,” Annie said.

  “What?” Cam turned to look at Annie.

  “You knew Petunia wouldn’t help because it’s for Evangeline,” Annie said.

  “Which doesn’t make me a chicken. It makes me smart. So are you in?”

  “Transport off-season tissue dogwood flowers? Do I have to?” Annie looked to Rob, who was chuckling.

  “Yes,” Cam said.

  “Can I complain on my blog?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Cam wasn’t sure whether Annie had a blog or not, she’d never mentioned it before if she did, but there was no reason to tempt it. “At least not until this whole pageant is done,” she amended. The artist in Annie might rebel if Cam came across too strong.

  “Usual gang?” Rob asked.

  “Something happened this afternoon. A body was found on the side of the Arts Commission.”

  Rob stared at her for a moment. “Body?”

  “Not just a body. One of our judges. Telly Stevens. Jake was here looking to see if there was foul play.”

  “I’m going to get scooped,” Rob accused. “You could have told me.”

  “They don’t know if it’s foul play or not,” Cam said.

  “I’m only helping if Jake will meet us after and get me up to date,” Rob said.

  “He’d probably be happy for the break,” Annie said, taking out her phone.

  * * *

  The three of them beat the van to Spoons. They joked in an alley behind the restaurant as they waited. Annie made outrageous dares, but neither Cam nor Rob took her up on them. Finally, the Spoons van pulled in.

  Petunia jumped out as soon as it stopped. “What’s this?”

  “Hi, Tunia. Nick said if we helped clean it, we could borrow the van for the night,” Cam said.

  Petunia, all arms and legs, rounded on her husband, who probably had ninety pounds on her. She hit him until he picked her up and whispered sweet things nobody else could hear. Finally, he set her down again.

  “Just tell her, Pet. She’s your sister.”

  “Tell me what?” Cam asked.

  Petunia scowled at Cam, turned back, and scowled at Nick, then scowled at Cam one more time. It was crabby, even for Petunia. Finally though, she squinted and spoke.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Cam shrieked, joy flooding out all her other emotions. Tears flowed as she rushed over and hugged her sister, then she stood back, only to have Annie rush in for a hug.

  Cam looked at her sister carefully. “Why aren’t you happier?”

  “You try nausea every waking minute. See how happy you are. Then . . . last night . . . I hope that’s just a one-time thing!”

  The pieces fell into place for Cam about the retching the night before. “Oh. Sorry about that. But Tunia, I’m thrilled for you! A baby!” Cam said.

  “They came to help so you could go rest, Pet. Why don’t you head home, have a bath, and get some sleep,” Nick said.

  Cam knew she hadn’t agreed to cleaning everything, just the van, but she also recognized Nick getting the irritable Petunia out of the way for the moment would save time. Besides, with the four of them, cleanup would go quickly. And, she was going to be an aunt!

  * * *

  Just over an hour later, they were headed for Blue Mountain Events to pick up the tissue flowers. The salesperson, probably the owner, had agreed to meet Cam there because of their broken van, but he still seemed grouchy about the hour.

  Their shipment was a dozen huge boxes, but each was no heavier than a box of shoes.

  “So what’s in here?” Rob asked again. He was lifting two boxes at once into the air and acting like it proved great strength.

  “Weren’t you listening? Paper dogwood flowers,” Annie grumbled.

  “Seriously?” he said. “I hoped she was kidding.”

  Before Cam could stop Annie, she had pulled out a box cutter and sliced one open to prove it. She tucked a flower behind each of her ears and then did the same for Rob.

  “Toilet paper flowers?” Rob said, examining the flower Annie had put behind his left ear.

  “It’s tissue. It’s the most like real flowers for the television cameras,” Cam said.

  “It better have come cheap,” Annie scolded.

&nbs
p; They weren’t, but Cam wasn’t going to fuel Annie’s fires. It was none of her business.

  “Just load the boxes, would you?”

  Rob headed out with the two he’d been lifting. Cam followed, and soon Annie was the only one not helping, which pushed her into motion, too. She liked to ask questions, but she didn’t like to look lazy.

  Three trips moved all the boxes to the van.

  “We’re going where?” Annie shouted when she heard Cam’s directions.

  “Neil Patrick rented offices at the Patrick Henry, but is letting Evangeline use them for pageant administration before he moves in.”

  “But it’s haunted,” Annie complained.

  “Oh, will you stop? You’re the one who used to scare me, remember?”

  It was true. Annie had always gotten a kick out of raising a response from people by any means necessary.

  “Yeah, but that was all fake stuff. This isn’t.”

  “Well, it’s the closest place to where we need the flowers to be for the setup crew, so that’s where we’re taking them.”

  “And then beer?” Annie asked. “Jake said he could meet us by midnight.”

  Cam raised an eyebrow. Annie obviously wasn’t that concerned about the haunting nonsense if in the next sentence she could change topics to beer.

  “I wish he could make it sooner,” Rob said. “Tribune has a staff meeting in the morning.”

  They began lugging the boxes to the Patrick Henry from their spot in the loading zone.

  “I can stay here so we don’t get towed,” Annie offered.

  “We don’t need you to. This is what a loading zone is for: loading!” Cam said.

  Annie stuck her tongue out and then launched into ever-sillier faces until she was again the last to grab a box.

  The upscale restaurant on the ground floor of the Patrick Henry building appeared closed for the night, but they heard piano music from the bar and a nicely dressed couple came out as they entered the former hotel.

  “Should we be using a freight elevator?” Rob asked.

  “Probably, but I don’t know where it is. I only have a key to the office, and this is the only way I know to get there,” Cam said.