Page 53 of Small Town Sash

"Tomorrow is perfect," she said with a decisive nod. "It gives me just enough time to find the right pair of combat boots. I have officially retired my heels, so I hope you're ready for a more casual Hadley."

"Looking forward to it."

"Me too," Hadley said as they walked toward the exit together. "You might regret the combat boots, though, if we go dancing."

"Never," he replied with mock solemnity. "I live for danger."

"Keep telling yourself that, Sergeant," she winked with a smile.

"Will do," he promised, already plotting how to make their first date unforgettable.

Chapter Fifteen

Hadley swept a feather duster across her trophy shelf, the golden figures and shiny plaques standing as silent witnesses to her beauty queen history. Every surface in her room glistened with the remnants of her pageant past—sashes draped over her bedpost, a tiara perched atop her dresser like a regal cat eyeing its kingdom.

"Seriously?" she muttered under her breath, her fingers brushing against the cool metal of yet another crown. It was as if her childhood bedroom was frozen in time, a shrine to the person everyone else expected her to be.

"Mom, can we talk about this?" Hadley called out, knowing full well that the silence from the other side of the house was just as heavy as the crowns she used to wear.

There was no reply. The cold shoulder from her mother was practically arctic since she dropped the bombshell she was quitting pageants.

"Fine, be that way," she huffed, turning back to her cleaning. It was liberating, really, to clear out the old to make room for something new—her true passion, fashion design.

Amidst the sashes and sequins, she found a photo tucked away in an old, forgotten album. A younger Hadley beamed back at her, gap-toothed and exuberant, clutching a plastic scepter and wearing a tiny crown askew on her head of black curls. Next to her stood her dad, his blue eyes crinkling with pride, one arm wrapped around her little peach-tinted shoulders.

"Look at us," she whispered, tracing the outline of her father's face with the tip of her finger. The laughter seemed to echo from the photograph, a moment of pure joy frozen in time.

"Guess I was pretty cute, huh, Dad?"

The memory of her first crown, a token of innocent triumph, felt heavier in her hands now than any of the real ones she had won. She let out a short, humorless laugh, imagining what her dad would say about all the pageantry fuss.

"Probably something cheesy like 'You'll always be my Miss Hero Texas,'" she said to the empty room, the corners of her mouth lifting despite herself. "But I'm ready for my own spotlight now. One not shaped like a crown."

Hadley placed the photo on the desk, straightening her shoulders as though preparing to step onto a stage far grander than any pageant runway. Her reflection in the mirror caught her attention—a young woman with determination sparkling in her blue eyes, ready to trade in tiaras for textile triumphs.

Her fingers paused mid-fold over a satin evening gown, the fabric whispering secrets of past glories. Her room was a museum of sparkles and sashes, but her heart pulsed for a different rhythm now. She sighed, tossing the gown onto the 'goodbye' pile.

"Last hurrah, huh?" she mumbled to herself, eyeing the gleaming tiaras that lined her shelf. "What do you think, Dad? One more walk across that glittered battlefield?"

She could almost hear his voice, a soft rumble of encouragement from a place just beyond reach. His words cameback to her in echoes, a wish from when the world felt simpler and their days together seemed endless.

"Miss Hero Texas," she whispered, the title bittersweet on her tongue. It was his dream for her, one that had shone in his eyes every time he watched her practice her pageant wave or perfect her poised smile. When he passed away ten years ago, it morphed into her mother's dream when she picked up the mantle in honor of his memory.

"All right, Dad. For you." Hadley's decision hung in the air, filling the room with a silent promise. "Let's show them what a Wilder is made of," she declared, her voice stronger than she expected.

Snatching the most recent crown from her shelf, she placed it atop her head, tilting it slightly—a salute to days gone by and a nod to the final curtain call.

"Miss Hero Texas," she repeated to her reflection, a mix of resolve and reverence dancing in her eyes. "It's time to give it one last push. Then we're done, Dad," she added, a playful warning in her tone. "No take-backs."

First, she needed to tell her mother the news. Hadley padded down the hallway and yanked open the door to her mother's study, the scent of leather-bound books and peonies crashing into her. Her mother sat behind an oak desk.

"Mom," Hadley started, her heart pounding like a bass drum at a rock concert.

Her mother looked up, eyebrows raised in that perfectly arched, pageant-approved way. "Yes, dear?"

"I've been thinking..." Hadley's words hung in the air, hesitant but determined.

"About?" Her mother's voice was smooth, deceptively calm like the eye of a storm.

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