Miss Levin’s Resort whispered as she reclaimed her place in line. “That’s you,” she said. “Go.”
Betty stepped forward.
In a bingo-hall-turned-dressing-room on the west side of the North Shore Pavilion, the girls were allowed ten minutes to change from swimsuits into their afternoon dresses and freshen their makeup. Betty pulled on her gloves and slipped on the junior prom pink satin pumps she’d dug out of the back of her closet. The shoes coordinated with Betty’s dress as if they’d been dyed to match.
“Do you want me to tie your bow?”
Betty turned around to see Nancy Green, Miss Grossinger’s Resort—also the reigning Miss South Haven—in a pale-green taffeta dress with a dropped and curved waistline. The hem touched just below her knees. The scoop neck was trimmed in gold, highlighting the copper flecks in Nancy’s brown eyes. Her complexion was creamy and clear, her eyeliner precise, her coral lipstick flattering. Nancy’s not-so-subtle cleavage would sway the judges.
Nancy was not only sexy, but also glamorous and sophisticated. And she was nice. Betty groaned but disguised it with a cough.
Betty lifted both strands of ribbon at her waist. “Thank you.” There was no way she could tie a proper bow behind her own back. “I didn’t think it through.”
Nancy stepped behind Betty and tugged and pulled at the wide ribbons. “There. You look lovely in pink.”
“It wasn’t my first choice, but thank you,” Betty said. “Had a little mishap with a blue one.”
Nancy leaned in. “I’ll tell you a secret. This dress wasn’t my first choice either. I had a lovely little peach number I picked up at a boutique in Paris.”
Betty leaned in, ravenous for a story about Paris fashion. “Why aren’t you wearing it?”
“Little is the issue. Even months later, it still doesn’t fit. I got full up top too,” Nancy whispered and glanced down at her bosom.
Betty hadn’t known Nancy was so good-natured, or why she would be so personal.
“Time to line up again,” she said.
The girls stood in the same order as before, except for Nancy, who scooted next to Betty. They all readjusted their sashes. “I’d wish you good luck, but I want to win,” Nancy whispered. “It’s my last chance.”
“Mine too.”
“Right. I heard you’re going away to college.”
“I am. In New York City.”
“I know other girls who’ve said they’re going to college.”
“I am going to college,” Betty said.
“Well, good for you,” Nancy said. “I hope it works out for you.”
For some reason, Betty believed her.
Nancy sighed. “You know if I win tonight I’ll be the only girl to take the title three times. It would be the best day of my life.” Her voice was wispy and longing.
Betty wanted to win, but even with the sash and crown, her best days were yet to come.
Nancy looked at the floor, then wiggled her shoulders and leaned closer to Betty. As close as she could get. “The nausea goes away,” she whispered. “Try soda crackers.”
“Okay,” Betty said, but she didn’t have the time or interest to decipher Nancy’s meaning.
When her turn came to walk the runway again, Betty looked side to side and chose audience members and then smiled right at them, the concentration keeping her tears at bay. With each step, her legs weakened. He wasn’t there. It had been silly to hope. But what if he never came back? With each step she thought, He loves me.
Marv sat between his mother and Eleanor. He was a decent guy, a good friend even. He deserved a nicer girl than Eleanor, one without a sharp edge. A girl who didn’t want someone else. She smiled at him and before she pivoted at the end of the runway, he smiled back.
As Betty glanced at each of the judges, she smiled and nodded just a bit. Then she copycatted Nancy, and winked.
Back in line, and to the sound of applause, she noticed her grandparents at the end of the second row on the right, clapping and smiling wide. Next to them sat Betty’s parents, also smiling. They came! Everyone was proud of her, just as she’d imagined. And just as she’d hoped, the day was almost perfect.
Mrs. Bookbinder shuffled papers, glanced at the judges, and grinned. She stood to the right of all the contestants, and four bouquets of red roses, one bigger than the next, lay on the stage, tied with pink ribbons. She lifted the first bouquet.
“Our third runner-up is . . . Miss Glassman’s Resort.”
The crowd applauded. All the girls clapped as they’d been instructed, and the third runner-up collected her roses and stood next to Mrs. Bookbinder. Betty thought she might throw up. She’d wanted this for so long, the possibility of it becoming a reality was making her dizzy.
“Our second runner-up is . . . Miss Fidelman’s.” Betty clapped and smiled but the sound faded away, as if she’d stepped inside her bedroom and closed the door and all the windows.
Her arms full of at least a dozen roses, Mrs. Bookbinder said, “Miss Grossinger’s Resort is our first runner-up.”
Nancy didn’t win!
The crowd cheered. Betty squeezed Nancy’s hand. Was it a congratulatory squeeze or one of sympathy? Betty didn’t know, but she leaned over and kissed Nancy’s cheek. Nancy smiled and waved to the audience. Betty knew it was a fake smile and the wave a rote gesture.
But this meant nothing. There were seventeen pretty girls on the stage, all of whom had practiced and primped. All of whom wanted the title for any of a hundred valid reasons. Should Betty have stepped away? She had so much—devoted grandparents, a boy who loved her, friends who cherished her, and her education and future ripe for the taking. She inhaled a deep breath and swelled with gratitude for her good fortune. No matter what happened next, she would remember this sense of peace and gratitude for the rest of her life.
Then, without fanfare—or a pause—Mrs.
