to her own.
“Don’t worry, Cal, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go. These are gettin’ cold and Daniel is waiting.”
She grabbed the drinks and headed back to the news van in a hurry.
* * *
“So, Uncle Cal. Your friend is pretty hot,” Justin said as they walked back to Vivi and Lewis. “Why don’t you ask her out?”
“No way, kiddo. I’ve known that woman my whole life and she is nothing but bad news.” Then he laughed. “No pun intended.”
“I think I’d sacrifice the headline for her,” Justin teased. “She’s easily the hottest reporter Tuscaloosa has ever had.”
“Yeah, but she’s also incredibly full of herself. No room for me and all that hairspray in my little car.”
They laughed and rejoined the others curbside, waiting for the parade to begin.
10
Dallas positioned herself on the street corner where the bagpipe parade would march right behind her as she did her live stand-up. Everything was in place and ready to go. For a quick fix, she’d taken her scarf out of her coat and let it hang over the chocolate spatters so no one could see her little accident. Dallas was nothing if not resourceful.
The top of the newscast was playing in her earpiece, and she could hear the anchors introduce her. Daniel pointed and, giving her the signal, she was on.
“Good evening, Tuscaloosa. We are live at Dixie Dickens Downtown where we have traveled back to the lush and lovely times of the storybook Victorian era. So many Tuscaloosans are braving the chilly temperatures to be out here tonight just to have a chance to immerse themselves in the days of Charles Dickens and Tiny Tim.”
That was the toss to her packaged story, which was now playing while she waited for the engineers to toss it back to her for her live stand-up. Dallas could hear the bagpipes approaching from down the street. It was all going just as she’d planned.
Just then, the children’s choir rounded the street corner singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” as they came up behind her in front of the bagpipes. She turned, recognizing the little faces as those from the Christmas play she was directing, and Betty Ann was walking backward in front of them, directing.
As Dallas watched them, her eyes locked with little Tristan, who had been there when she’d fallen down the stairs. She was suddenly caught in the memory of what he’d asked her: Why don’t you like us? The question shook her even more now as the children sang the song that reminded her of the days when her own childhood was happy, when she’d had her older brother and her mother home with her for Christmas. Behind Tristan she recognized one of the older children who’d caroled cruelly on her doorstep the night before. Behind the choir, Kitty and the mayor walked happily, arm in arm, waving merrily at the gathered crowds.
A knot began to form in her stomach. It was as if the town had planned this—to parade all the uncomfortable moments she’d been dealing with lately in front of her right before she was meant to be live on TV.
Dallas was fixin’ to hit overload when she turned and saw Lewis and Vivi, Blake and Sonny, all standing and laughing with Cal. In that very second, the engineers threw the shot back to her. Between the cute little boy, the song, the thought of being Mrs. Grinch and seeing the Cal clique, it was just too much for her.
Daniel signaled her to go. “You’re on....”
“We are live in downtown Tuscaloosa....”
She could feel all the eyes searing her like laser beams. She locked gazes with Blake, who smiled at her. Dallas took that as a dare, assuming Blake meant, Go on, I dare you to finish the broadcast under all this pressure.
“So come on out and join us...um... Yes, we are live at the, uh, Dixie Dickens....”
She looked at Cal. Of course he could tell she was having trouble, but he didn’t smile back, and she took that as a vote of no confidence. It was her first live shot in weeks, yet suddenly, every single insecurity Dallas had ever had hit her all at once in this one important moment. The anchor seat hung in the balance. And Dallas was blowing it. In front of everyone.
“Dallas Dubois...good night.” She didn’t even utter the station call letters. Totally embarrassed, she tossed her microphone to Daniel and ran off into the darkness. This was the first major mistake she had ever made on live TV. Well, unless you counted a few weeks ago when she’d told all of Tuscaloosa she hated children, but she had covered herself on that one, so it didn’t count. This time, there was no way to hide her blundering.
Everyone heard her stutter. The Cal clique watched her run off. Anyone who’d had the TV on tonight would have seen her fail miserably—including Mike, her station manager. Dallas couldn’t imagine how this night could get any worse.
* * *
Blake felt terrible as she watched Dallas make a quick exit through the commotion of the parade. Even after everything she and Dallas had been through over the years, Blake still wanted her to succeed. She placed her hand on her burgeoning belly, her other hand held tightly by the love of her life, police chief Sonny Bartholomew. It hadn’t been an easy road to find this kind of happiness, to find the love and the family she’d always hoped for. She knew Dallas must be searching for the same thing, even if she wasn’t exactly the warmest person Blake knew.
Suddenly Blake was struck with the memory of a certain beauty pageant when she and her best friend, Vivi, had covered Dallas’s sparkly dress with itching powder. Dallas had been driving them crazy with her bad attitude and downright meanness, so they’d thought a little public humiliation might put her in her place. But once the plan was in effect, Blake regretted having gone so far. She’d felt so bad when they found Dallas sitting in the wings of the stage, sixteen years old, itching and crying and all alone. Dallas didn’t have a mother to come backstage and tend to her, they’d realized. And Blake was supposed to have been her family.
In a split second, Blake knew she had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to fix that. To make up for that awful trick and to take some responsibility. She kissed Sonny on the cheek and said, “I’ll be right back,” then she darted off into the darkness after Dallas.
Eventually she found her sitting on a dark street corner behind the courthouse, and she was crying. Dallas never cried in front of anyone, Blake knew. Not ever. She had buried her face in her knees, and didn’t see Blake approaching until she was right in front of her. Blake knelt down on one knee.
“Dallas. It’s okay. Really.” She barely knew what to say, with all their history of bad blood.
“Oh, perfect,” Dallas groaned. “Blake, just get out of here. Leave me alone.”
“Please, let me talk to you. I promise I am being for real. Listen to me, it’s all okay.”
“What do you know about it? Anyway, I can’t trust you. You’ve lived for this moment!” Dallas was furious, her cheeks wet with tears but her eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve always wanted to see how hard I can fall. So, go ahead and have your laugh. You’ve been out to get me my whole life. I’m sure you and your friends are just delighted with that display back there. Just get the hell outta here.”
“Dallas, I’m not going anywhere. I can
