The Cotton Queen
Page 32
He turned then, prompting the boys. The two grabbed up something behind them and came running into the street. As if on cue, the driver stopped the procession and waited as the two young Kuhl brothers delivered a long-stemmed yellow rose to each of the three women on the float. Thomas sort of tossed his up to Rachel whose clean catch was probably due to summer softball. Connor was so short that Babs got up from her seat and went over to retrieve the flowers he carried. She kissed her grandson on the top of his head, embarrassing him completely. Then as she returned to her throne, she handed the second rose to Laney.
“Thank you for doing this,” Babs said to her.
“Thank you for making me,” Laney replied.
Babs took her seat and the giant crepe-paper barge began sailing down the street once more.
In the distance the band played, the twirlers tossed batons, the soldiers marched with flags, the clowns rode on go-carts, the cowboys on horseback, onlookers ate sno-cones and the queens waved and smiled. Laney had never felt like a queen. That’s what she’d told her daughter. And she didn’t feel like one now. Maybe that’s what this was all about. Coming to the realization and appreciation that, after all the rush of celebration, the excitement of being the center of attention, the glamour of an elegant gown, the fantasy of reigning over friends and neighbors, after all that, you’re able to recognize yourself as just an ordinary woman with a crown on your head.
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ISBN: 9781460315088
Copyright © 2006 by Pamela Morsi
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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