Page 1 of Small Town Sash

Chapter One

Hadley Wilder fluffed her black hair, the long strands falling perfectly around her face like a raven's glossy wings. Her blue eyes, usually as calm as a summer sky, flickered with a mix of jitters and fatigue. She traced the peach hue of her curvy silhouette in the full-length mirror, adjusting the fit of her formal dress.

"Chin up, Hadley. Posture," her mother called out, fingers expertly skimming over the sequins that adorned Hadley's gown.

"Mom, I'm pretty sure my spine is already at maximum straightness," Hadley quipped, rolling her eyes but obliging with a subtle lift of her chin.

"As if there's such a thing," her mother fussed, circling her like a hawk ready to pounce on any imperfection. "Remember, you were practically born with a tiara on your head."

"Or so the legend says," Hadley murmured under her breath, hating that every opportunity her mother liked to bring up the story she started herself.

"What was that?" her mother questioned with a disapproving arch of her black eyebrow.

"Nothing, just practicing my acceptance speech," she lied smoothly, batting her lashes for effect.

"Good. Enunciate. And remember, Miss Hero Texas isn't just a title. It's your destiny." Her mother's words were as tight as the curls she imposed on Hadley's hair.

"Of course, Mom. Destiny with a side of hairspray and lip gloss," Hadley responded, her tone laced with sarcasm though her face remained pageant-perfect.

"Exactly. Now, let's review your walk one more time," her mother demanded as she tucked her own black bob behind her ears.

Hadley knew better than to argue with her mother. It was easier to just do what she wanted, and that way, Hadley could get practice over as quickly as possible.

"Graceful, slow…that's it," her mother encouraged as Hadley glided across the living room turned makeshift runway.

"Like I'm floating on a cloud or wading through molasses?" Hadley asked, her steps exaggeratedly slow.

"Both," her mother said, nodding with satisfaction. "If you perform like this at the pageant, you've got it in the bag."

"Sure, as long as the bag is designer and comes with a matching pair of uncomfortable heels," Hadley shot back, her smile hiding the dread of yet another crown she didn't really want or need.

Hadley forced a smile in front of the mirror, one of her latest sashes emblazoned with "Miss Southern Charm" draped over her shoulder. It was one of many that cluttered her closet, each a different color, a different title, a different memory. But none of them were enough for her mother. She insisted she entered one pageant right after the other, claiming it was her destiny to win more titles than any other beauty queen in the world.

"Mom, do I really need to add another?" she asked, eyeing the reflection that seemed more like a mannequin than herself.

"Absolutely," her mother insisted, clapping her hands as if summoning the pageant gods themselves. "You're a natural, darling."

"Natural at smiling through gritted teeth," Hadley grumbled, but her mother either didn't catch the jab or chose to ignore it.

"Look at this wall," her mother gestured to the gallery of crowns and ribbons that lined the shelves of her bedroom. "Miss Prairie Rose. Fried Green Tomato Queen. Miss Million Dollar Legs. You've got every accolade a girl could dream of."

"More like your dreams," Hadley muttered, plucking at the sash with frustration. She wanted to tell her mother that she dreamed of being known for her wit, her brains, and maybe her killer banana bread recipe. Those dreams, however, always seemed to be drowned out by the applause for her perfectly toned calves.

"Speak up, dear," her mother said, fussing with Hadley's hair. "Confidence is key."

"Right," Hadley sighed, plastering on her pageant smile. "Confidence."

"Remember, you're not just competing. You're setting an example. You are an icon in this town, and you were born to win this title."

"An icon in size six heels," Hadley observed dryly. "Maybe I'll get a statue in the town square next. 'Hadley Wilder: Her Stare Pierced Hearts, Her Walk Echoed Through Eternity.'"

"Stop being so dramatic," her mother scolded, but there was a chuckle hidden in her tone. "You should be proud. These titles are your legacy. You barely missed this one last time around, and now that you're at the right age to enter, you have to win this. You'll be too old in five years when it comes around again."

"Legacy," Hadley echoed, her voice dropping. "I'd rather leave footprints from walking my own path than from standing on a pedestal."

"Darling, there's no better place to be than a pedestal," her mother reassured her, missing the point as she always did. "Now, chin up. We've got an important tiara to win."

Hadley nodded, but her blue eyes lingered on the window, on the world beyond the glass where titles didn't define her, where she could just be Hadley—no sash required.

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