Last Chance Beauty Queen by Hope Ramsay

with a killing look in his pale eyes. “Girl,” he said, “I’m going to forgive you for this, on account of the fact that I can see that Baron Woolham is as stubborn as a mule. So do us all a favor and explain to him how the angels don’t talk to everyone, won’t you? And then, in real slow words, you tell him I ain’t never gonna sell this land.”
    Daddy turned on his heel and strode back toward the azaleas that lined Jesus’s tomb, shaking his head the whole way.
    “Well,” Caroline said up into the frowning face of Hugh deBracy, “that went well, don’t you think?”
    “I expected him to let me talk to the angels.”
    Caroline gave him a funny look. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “That tack always works with my Aunt Petal, the one with the gnomes and fairies. She speaks with them regularly.”
    A giggle bubbled right out of Caroline’s chest. And once that giggle started, it developed a mind of its own, until it had grown from a chortle right into a bona fide belly laugh. Before she knew it, she was having trouble breathing, and tears were leaking from her eyes.
    Hugh caught her sillies when that happened, and his laugh softened everything about him. It took a good minute before either of them managed to reexert control.
    When Hugh had finally quit chuckling, he said, “Aunt Petal enjoys her daily chats with Woolham House’s gnomes and faeries. And in her case, she’s always been willing to invite me in for tea and conversation.”
    His gaze shifted toward Daddy, who had gone back to pruning azaleas. “It would appear that your father is not nearly as dotty as Aunt Petal. That’s a shame, really.”
    “I’m glad you realize that. And I hope you can see now why it’s going to be impossible to change my father’s mind. And not to be the bearer of bad news, but there are a lot of other reasons why you should think about another location.”
    “What reasons?”
    “I was down at the courthouse this morning looking at land platts, and I discovered that there is swampland right over there.” She pointed in a southeasterly direction. “It’s located on the land you now own. If you build on that land, the state and federal government will be all over you for wetlands permits.”
    Hugh’s face turned pale. “Swampland? Really? You’re not just saying that?”
    “Would you like me to take you for a canoe ride? I’m sure one of my brothers would be happy to take you upstream right into that swamp. When they were kids, they used to go gator hunting up there.”
    He blanched. “Do you think George knew this when he bought the land?”
    “I don’t know, but I do know you and your partner paid way too much for that land given the development issues it poses.”
    “I see. Any chance of getting my money back?”
    “I don’t know. We could always appeal to Hettie Marshall’s honor.”
    “Hettie Marshall? Chairwoman of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God? She’s the one who sold the land?”
    “No. Hettie probably doesn’t know a thing about it. But her husband does. He’s the one who took you to the cleaners.”
    “I see.” He frowned and managed to look just a little forlorn.
    “Look, not all is lost. Tomorrow morning, during the Watermelon Festival parade you may have a chance to chat with Hettie about things. Her husband is a member of the town council, and I’m sure they’ll be on the reviewing stand during the parade. Maybe you can talk her into getting her husband to give you your money back.”
    Of course, Lord Woolham had no chance of getting his money back. Jimmy was either bribing officials, or propping up the chicken plant, or God knew what else. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that Jimmy was clearly hurting for cash and getting his money back was going to be difficult.
    She didn’t tell his Lordship this, of course. He wouldn’t have believed her. He was going to have to figure this out for himself.
    Then, maybe, she could work with him to find a