I punch the code into the keypad on the door and let them into the model home. They follow me into the kitchen, where I set the groceries on the counter. “How can I help you, Kennedy Claire? Are you thinking about buying a Sherman Ranch home?”
As far as I know, these days, Kennedy Claire owns an enormous home on the old money side of town. After she won Miss Texas, she married into one of the most established families in town: the Prestons. Oil money. Generational wealth. The kind that gets a high school named after them—Preston High, which we all attended. In Anhalt, if you beat all the levels in the game of keeping up with the Joneses, you’ll find that the final boss is a Preston.
“Oh, no,” Kennedy Claire chuckles like the idea is ridiculous. “We’re here to scope out the Events Hall.”
“That’s right,” I say, “the pageant.”
“Our golden jubilee. Can you believe it? After forty-nine years in that little high school auditorium.” She holds her hands up like she’s praising Jesus. “This is the start of something bigger.”
“Let me get these squared away, and I’ll grab the keys.” I see her eyeing the champagne as I store it away in the pantry, and I try my best to keep my head high, my shoulders back. I owe a lot of people an explanation, an apology, but Kennedy Claire isn’t one of them.
We walk out together. One strip of sidewalk gleams pristine, wide enough for golf carts, but beyond it the roads break off into dirt, piles of gravel heaped up like anthills.
“Do you think we can get rid of that display by the entrance before orientation tomorrow?” Kennedy Claire asks as we walk. “The flowers and the teddy bears? It just kind of brings down the mood, don’t you think?”
“I’ll talk to Mark,” I say, though I think it’s unlikely that anyone from Anhalt will be able to step foot on the Sherman land without thinking of Izzy.
We pass along the river and between the trees, we can see The Hollow, a local spot where we all used to gather on sun-filled days to jump from the cliffs into water that stayed cool even in the hottest Texas summer heat. A natural spring flows from the riverbed, feeding a deep blue-green well that glimmers like an open eye. Limestone shelves curve around it, worn smooth by decades of bare feet and river water. And beside it looms the cave, dark, damp, and echoey.
I pick up the pace, and the Amenity Center rises in front of us, an immense building of glass and stone, the one finished jewel of the development.
Inside, the air is cool, smelling faintly of chlorine. Floor-to-ceiling windows open to the pool—cabanas, a lazy river curling through manicured gardens, even a swim-up bar. Kennedy Claire clasps her hands under her chin, delighted. “Can you imagine the photo ops?”
We move on. The gym gleams with untouched machines, Peloton spin bikes and treadmills, a rock wall. Hallways stretch off toward conference rooms, lined with polished oak doors. And then theEvents Hall, where the pageant will actually take place. Vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, walls of glass looking out over the Hill Country. Opulent enough for a wedding.
“There’s even a bridal suite,” I say, pointing back toward the hallway. “It’ll make a perfect dressing room for the pageant.”
Kennedy Claire spins in the middle of the room, her heels clicking like applause. “Mark had sent me photos, of course, but this is truly to die for.” She snaps her fingers at her daughter. “Sarah Lynn, take notes.”
Sarah Lynn pulls a notebook from her purse, clicks her pen.
“You don’t mind if we spend some time here, do you, Cat? I’m going to jot down some instructions, and then my volunteer committee will be here later today to set up for orientation.”
“That’s fine. I’ll leave a key with you.” I spin one off my key ring and hand it to her. I’m about to leave them to it, when I have a sudden stroke of genius.
Last night, Olivia and I didn’t end up watching a movie. Instead, we pulled up YouTube videos about pageant prep, and in between, we talked more than we have in years. I collected tidbits—names of her friends and places they’d been and songs she likes—folding each away like pressed flowers between the pages of a book.
The pageant is myinwith Olivia, my way to spend time with her. She has opened a door, just this little crack, and I’ll be damned if I pass it up.
“Do you need more volunteers?” I ask. “I’d love to help.”
I register the slight tick of surprise on Kennedy Claire’s face. “Well,” she breathes the word out, like she is genuinely shocked. Then she smiles from ear to ear. “Honey, I’ll put you on my list. No one understands how much work it is to run a pageant of this magnitude.” She pulls her phone from her purse, unlocks it, and hands it to me.
“My daughter is competing this year,” I say as I type my number in.
“Is she now?”
“Olivia.” I hand the phone back to her.
Kennedy Claire turns to Sarah Lynn. “Do I know Olivia?”
Sarah Lynn shakes her head. “It’s her first pageant. She’s super sweet,” she adds to me.
“Aw, newbies are so cute,” Kennedy Claire says, and I ignore the way she has just flippantly dismissed my daughter. She types something out on her phone, and I hear my own ding in my back pocket. “There. Sent you a text. So now you have my number too.” She puts her hand to her hip and scans me from head to toe. “You have no idea how excited I am to have an extra set of hands. Actually, you know what, I have something for you.” She digs around in her bag and pulls out a small stack of ivory-colored cards with loopy gold lettering. “Invitations to the pageant. Hand them out to whoever you like. We’re aiming to get the whole town in attendance this year.”
I take the invitations, run the pad of my thumb slowly over the shiny embossed letters, feeling like I’ve just been handed a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket to win back my daughter.
“She’s really excited about it. We were practicing poses last night.” And I can’t help but gush, thinking about the way Olivia transformed before my eyes, no longer a shy teenager hiding behind her hair, but all long neck and poised grace, the posture of a ballerina. “She’s a natural—so much stage presence. She’s been doing competitive dance since she was three, you know?”