cigarette smoke wafted off her suit. Sam would have been grateful to see an ashtray in the vicinity—a few good draughts of nicotine might take the bleeding edge off Judith’s fury. But no cigarettes were visible. No Bloody Marys, either. Instead, a half-filled coffee cup glared from Judith’s desk, the woman’s blood-red lipstick contrasting wildly with the black logo of the Fair.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” With that single question, the temperature of the room plummeted twenty degrees.
Sam resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, because that gesture would only make her look ill-at-ease. Even if she was ill-at-ease. Even if she wanted to turn tail and run out of the office, forfeiting the rest of her reign and any good she might even imagine doing as the Summer Queen.
“We were ambushed,” she said. “The photographer was lying in wait in the bushes at my house.”
Judith’s eyes narrowed. “ That man had no purpose being at your house.”
“DJ Thomas was driving me home after dinner.”
“After an unchaperoned dinner.”
“We had someone with us!” Sam protested. “DJ’s son was there the entire time!” All right. Not the entire time. But close enough. Who was Sam trying to kid? Nothing would be close enough. Not for Judith. Not for the Summer Fair.
“Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Thomas’ minor son witnessed that type of misbehavior!”
Sam blushed. Judith made it sound like she’d performed a striptease on her front porch, complete with tassels and thigh-high boots. “Daniel was in the car when the picture was taken. The three of us went to a public restaurant after the game, Judith. I was home before eight o’clock.”
I stayed awake until midnight, wondering what might have happened if the photographer hadn’t been there. If Daniel had been old enough to find his own way home.
Some thoughts were better left unspoken.
“I won’t lie to you, Samantha. I’ve already heard from four board members this morning. Three of them want you to resign by the end of the day.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Judith stabbed a manicured finger toward the newspaper centered on her desk. Sam stared down at her own face, at her closed eyes, and she remembered the heat that had radiated from DJ’s hands. Judith spat, “It’s bad enough that your picture is displayed there, for every child in the state of North Carolina to see. But the article links you with criminals . With women of loose morals!”
Loose morals. What was this? The 1950s? Sam was smart enough to keep her retort to herself.
Judith extracted a sheaf of paper from beneath the newsprint. “Do I need to remind you of the contract you signed, the day you submitted your application to become the Summer Queen?” Breathing through her nose, Judith turned to the appropriate page and enunciated: “If at any time, in the Fair’s sole opinion, Contestant becomes the subject of public disrepute, contempt, or scandal that affects Contestant’s image or goodwill, the Fair may immediately terminate Contestant’s Reign.”
Sam’s throat went dry. She knew the language of course. She’d read the document before she’d signed it. But hearing the words out loud, in the bright light of day…
“Ms. Burroughs, please…” Sam sounded like she was about to cry. She forced herself to stop speaking. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before she began again. “I made a mistake. And you have every right to be upset with me. But my work here is more important than any single article in a newspaper. I’m so close to seeing results, after all these months of planning. I think Musicall might finally get funded, any day now.”
Judith pursed her carefully painted lips. “I said that three board members were demanding your resignation.”
Sam froze, afraid to ladle hope into the silence between them.
“But the fourth board member is Armistead Broadbush.”
Sam dared to take a breath. Mr.
“Would you like to explain yourself?” With that single question, the temperature of the room plummeted twenty degrees.
Sam resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest, because that gesture would only make her look ill-at-ease. Even if she was ill-at-ease. Even if she wanted to turn tail and run out of the office, forfeiting the rest of her reign and any good she might even imagine doing as the Summer Queen.
“We were ambushed,” she said. “The photographer was lying in wait in the bushes at my house.”
Judith’s eyes narrowed. “ That man had no purpose being at your house.”
“DJ Thomas was driving me home after dinner.”
“After an unchaperoned dinner.”
“We had someone with us!” Sam protested. “DJ’s son was there the entire time!” All right. Not the entire time. But close enough. Who was Sam trying to kid? Nothing would be close enough. Not for Judith. Not for the Summer Fair.
“Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Thomas’ minor son witnessed that type of misbehavior!”
Sam blushed. Judith made it sound like she’d performed a striptease on her front porch, complete with tassels and thigh-high boots. “Daniel was in the car when the picture was taken. The three of us went to a public restaurant after the game, Judith. I was home before eight o’clock.”
I stayed awake until midnight, wondering what might have happened if the photographer hadn’t been there. If Daniel had been old enough to find his own way home.
Some thoughts were better left unspoken.
“I won’t lie to you, Samantha. I’ve already heard from four board members this morning. Three of them want you to resign by the end of the day.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Judith stabbed a manicured finger toward the newspaper centered on her desk. Sam stared down at her own face, at her closed eyes, and she remembered the heat that had radiated from DJ’s hands. Judith spat, “It’s bad enough that your picture is displayed there, for every child in the state of North Carolina to see. But the article links you with criminals . With women of loose morals!”
Loose morals. What was this? The 1950s? Sam was smart enough to keep her retort to herself.
Judith extracted a sheaf of paper from beneath the newsprint. “Do I need to remind you of the contract you signed, the day you submitted your application to become the Summer Queen?” Breathing through her nose, Judith turned to the appropriate page and enunciated: “If at any time, in the Fair’s sole opinion, Contestant becomes the subject of public disrepute, contempt, or scandal that affects Contestant’s image or goodwill, the Fair may immediately terminate Contestant’s Reign.”
Sam’s throat went dry. She knew the language of course. She’d read the document before she’d signed it. But hearing the words out loud, in the bright light of day…
“Ms. Burroughs, please…” Sam sounded like she was about to cry. She forced herself to stop speaking. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath before she began again. “I made a mistake. And you have every right to be upset with me. But my work here is more important than any single article in a newspaper. I’m so close to seeing results, after all these months of planning. I think Musicall might finally get funded, any day now.”
Judith pursed her carefully painted lips. “I said that three board members were demanding your resignation.”
Sam froze, afraid to ladle hope into the silence between them.
“But the fourth board member is Armistead Broadbush.”
Sam dared to take a breath. Mr.
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