Page 54 of Small Town Sash

"Pageants. Designing. My future." Hadley clasped her hands together, finding strength in her own grip. "I love fashion, Mom. It's my calling."

"Is this about that little sewing hobby of yours?" Her mother's tone was dismissive, but a flicker of interest sparked in her eyes.

"More than a hobby," Hadley corrected, her chin tilting up defiantly. "A passion. A career."

"Ah." Her mother steepled her fingers, considering. "And what of the pageants you mentioned?"

"Miss Hero Texas. Last time. For Dad." Hadley breathed in deeply, as if inhaling courage. "Win or lose, I'm out."

"Out?" The word sliced through the tension, sharp and quick.

"Retiring from pageantry." Hadley steadied herself, ready for the backlash. "After this pageant, I'm focusing on fashion design full-time."

"Retire?" Her mother repeated, the concept seemingly alien to her. "But Hadley, you're at your prime."

"Exactly." Hadley's voice was resolute. "Leaving on a high note."

"And if I can't support this...this decision?" Her mother's voice wavered, revealing a crack in her composed façade.

"Then..." Hadley swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "We might have to make some space between us."

"Space?" A hint of alarm peeked through her mother's controlled exterior.

"Until you can accept my choice," Hadley said, softening slightly. "I hope it won't come to that."

"Me either," her mother whispered, almost to herself.

Hadley turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. "I'll always be your Miss Hero Texas, Mom. With or without the crown."

Her mother's response was a silent nod.

Hadley's hand hovered on the doorknob, her pulse a staccato rhythm against her wrist. She half-expected her mother to launch into another tirade, but the room remained silent, save for the soft shuffle of expensive fabric as her mother shifted in her seat.

"Fine," came the reluctant consent, each syllable laced with resignation. "I won't lose you over this...design business."

Hadley turned, her eyebrows arching in surprise. "Really?"

"Really." Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign of concession rather than approval. "I may not agree with your decision, Hadley, but I respect it."

"Respect?" The word felt foreign, unexpected, and Hadley wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"You heard me correctly. Respect," her mother reiterated, as if tasting the word for the first time.

"Wow." Hadley let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "That's...big of you, Mom."

"Let's not make a spectacle out of it," her mother replied, waving a dismissive hand. "You've always been dramatic."

"Me? Dramatic?" Hadley feigned shock, her hand clutching at her chest. "I learned from the best."

"Cheeky." Her mother's eyes twinkled despite herself, a rare glimpse of humor peeking through. "Just remember, Hadley Wilder, fashion is no walk in the park either."

"Believe me, after all the stories I've heard from Candace, I'm quite aware," Hadley nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. "But if nothing else, I've learned how to handle a tough crowd from pageants."

"I suppose that's something," her mother murmured.

"Just remember, after this competition, no tiaras, just textiles."

"Textiles that better be worth this sacrifice," her mother added, managing a begrudging smile of her own.

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