“Everything's fine,” Jared interrupted her, reaching across and taking her hand. He gave it a small squeeze. “You just have to bear with me. We're still figuring things out after all. It's gonna take a little time.”
She squeezed his fingers back. “Yeah.” That was true enough. “It'll be worth the wait.”
As soon as she walked through the doors of Bettina Lorena's, it was full on.
“You and me, this lunchtime,” said Bettina, walking past her as she fastened her apron. “Misty’s, at one.”
“O-kay,” agreed Pris. She had been to lunch with Billie and Lois and Carole-Ann, so it made sense that it was her boss’s turn. Still, she couldn’t help but feel nervous as it was the last day of her trial. Maybe Bettina was going to let her down gently? She tried to concentrate her clients. To her surprise, her first client was Debs, Jared's cousin's wife.
“Hi Pris!” she said enfolding her in an enthusiastic hug as soon as she came through the door.
“I didn't realize I had a family member booked in for today,” Pris said, as she settled the heavily pregnant woman into her adjustable seat. “Is this comfortable? Can I lower it for you?”
“It's just about perfect,” Debs assured her. “And my mother actually booked this for me as a treat. She's babysitting my son Dylan this morning. You'll meet him on Saturday.”
“I'm looking forward to it,” Pris assured her, arranging a cover-all over her baby bump and tying it. “Can I get you a tea or a coffee?”
“We're going to be offering mocktails from next week,” Billie chimed in and waved toward a new cabinet which stood in the corner.
“Oh wow, is that Bettina's vintage cocktail cabinet?” asked Pris. “I love it!”
“My son Jeff is going to strip and paint it this weekend,” said Bettina, stirring a cup of wax.
“What color?” asked Lois through a mouthful of curler pins.
“We need to have a council of war later and decide,” said Bettina. “I'm considering a re-vamp of the whole salon.”
“Exciting stuff!” murmured Lois with approval.
“I have some ideas!” blurted Pris, and then blushed.
“Thought you might,” said Bettina. Then she turned to Billie. “And you, missy.”
Billie had her dark hair up in a victory roll on the top of her head today and had gone a lot lighter on the dark eyeliner. She even had a touch of blush. She nodded now. “I do.”
“Got something to show you in that case,” said Bettina nodding to a large cream case stood next to the cocktail cabinet.
“What is it?” asked Billie.
“Sewing machine,” answered Bettina. “There's a bunch of vintage sewing patterns in there for shift dresses and such like. Thought you might like to learn.”
Billie's eyes were as wide as saucers. “I would,” she breathed.
“I used to sew myself a new dress every week to wear to the dance on Saturday night,” said Bettina, slathering the hot wax onto Mrs Roger's top lip. “Never got to pass the skill onto anyone, having three sons.”
“You could teach me dress-making,” Billie said, running over to inspect the clasps on the case.
“Reckon I could,” agreed Bettina.
Pris looked at Lois and they exchanged delighted grins as Billie flipped through Bettina's old sewing patterns and exclaimed over the pictures. “There's a circle skirt here,” she said. “And a really sweet little blouse. Mom, look at this house-coat pattern! I want to make all of them Bettina!”
“I'll bet,” said Bettina with a roll of her eyes.
Pris felt a poke in her side and looked down at Debs. “Now what in the world is going on in this place?” Luke's wife murmured.
“How do you mean?”
“I've never heard Billie mumble more than two words together, let alone show any emotion other than surly resentment!”
Pris shook her head. “She's just coming out of an awkward phase,” she whispered back. “We were all there, right?”
“And what about Bettina?” demanded Debs in a low voice. “She's usually a right old sour-puss! Sniping and snarling at her staff and customers,” hissed Debs. “It's like invasion of the body snatchers in here!”
“Let me get you that cup of tea,” said Pris.
“I think you'd better!”
The morning passed swiftly. Debs bought two liquid blushers and told her all about Aunt ‘Tunia's hopes that Jared might take over the family farm. “It's far too big for her to run, and it needs a lot of upkeep.”
Pris thought of the big white farmhouse set in its orchards with its wraparound porch. She could feel her own face turn dreamy. “It's a beautiful old house,” she said dabbing testers onto the back of Debs' arm.
“Luke says you're more into designer gadgets and all the mod-cons,” she said with a faintly accusing air.
Pris straightened up in surprise. “Not really,” she said. “I don't think I've ever thought about it. Anyway, you could have a new kitchen put in easily enough.”
“Sure could,” agreed Debs swiftly. “'Specially with Jared being a builder.”
Pris regarded her, aware she was being skillfully maneuvered. Debs was wholesome and sweet, but she had a glint in her eye and an air of purpose that put Pris on guard. Was she being sounded out? “Wait a minute, now,” she said firmly. “Jared and I have only just moved in together, we're hardly in a place to be considering-“
“Oh fiddle!” burst in Debs. “Anyone can see he's crazy about you! If you told him you wanted the farmhouse, he'd move heaven and earth to give it to you!”
Pris blinked. Unbidden, an image of her and Jared walking through the apple trees toward the farmhouse rose in her mind's eye, hand-in-hand. Sunlight was streaming through the trees, basking everything in a golden light. “What about Daisy?” she said weakly. “And Aunt ‘Tunia?”
“Trust me, Daisy would be ecstatic. Jared would have to buy her and Luke out. She's always worrying about money. Lloyd, Daisy’s husband is freelance and sometimes his work dries up, that's one of the reasons she's always so stressed and bitchy.”
“I see,” Pris murmured, before rallying herself. “But Aunt ‘Tunia wouldn't want the disruption of someone else coming into her home...”
“Aunt ‘Tunia's had a pipe-dream of moving into town for years,” said Daisy, cutting across her objections. “And living in a smart little condo. She's fed up to her back teeth with generators and pruning and picking up wind-falls.” She lowered her voice furtively. “Between you and me, she told me she's bringing a gentleman-friend with her to the barbecue. Luke and Jared are gonna flip. It's their second date. I wouldn't be at all surprised if things turned serious. Not at their time of life.”
Pris' eyes widened. “Amos?” she whispered. “He asked her out?”
“Now, how in the world-?” spluttered Debs. Then she gave a short laugh and shook her head. “Of course. This is all you, isn't it?” she marveled. “You're a miracle worker.”
“Hardly!”
But Debs would not be shaken in her belief. “You're one of those people,” she said firmly. “That shakes things up and puts things to rights.”
Am I? thought Pris.
After Debs left, she had Ida Tillerson who was sick of the way she usually did her face and wanted a new beauty regime. She and Pris had a lot of fun re-thinking her color scheme which she had been using since high school. She bought several of the Matinee products and took lots of selfies of her made up face to 'remind herself how to do it in future'.
“I just love it!” she enthused, saying she'd tell all her friends, and asking where she could leave a tip.
“You and me in five minutes,” Bettina reminded her loudly, as Pris waved her client off. Pris quickly cleared her workspace and wiped it down with the spray. She cast a nervous look at Lois who gave her a thumbs up and mouthed 'You got this'.
“Let's go to Misty's,” said Bettina, slinging her purse over her shoulder.
Pris whipped off her overall and grabbed he
r own purse, before following the older woman out of the store and crossing the road together. The first person Pris saw on entering was Carole-Ann, who hurried over as they took seats by the window. She shot a questioning look at Pris, who shrugged.
“Bettina, Pris. Ready to order?” Carole-Ann asked.
“Coffee and a grilled cheese,” said Bettina crisply.
“I'll have the same.”
“Gotcha.”
“I'll say this for her,” Bettina remarked dryly as Carole-Ann disappeared into the kitchen. “Her make up doesn't look half-bad.”
“She's doing great,” agreed Pris.
“You hear about Grady?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought that boy would keep her dangling for another couple of years at least. Your makeover put paid to that.”
“He's seen nothing yet. Wait till he gets a load of the promo posters we shot with her yesterday,” said Pris serenely.
Bettina gave a snort of laughter. “You thought about what you want yours to look like?”
Pris looked up at her. “Um,” she said.
Bettina nodded. “You need to give it some serious thought.”
“Really?” Pris asked, breathlessly. “You're offering me the job?” her face broke out into smiles.
“I'm offering you more than that,” said Bettina. “I'm offering you a partnership, with the option of buying me out when I retire in ten years.”
Pris blinked. “What? Are you serious?” Her voice rose to a squeak. “"A partnership?”
Bettina nodded gravely. “I realize it's highly unlikely you've got the capital just lying in a drawer somewhere. You're young and just starting out. But I think you've really got something. That you've got what it takes. You fit. We could work out the details later.”
Pris sat staring at her. “Wow, Bettina. I don't know what to say. I'm thrilled, but I'd need to sit down and have a good hard think about the partnership thing. I mean, I realize it's an amazing offer and-”
“Naturally,” said Bettina. “You need to talk it over with Jared. Think about how it fits in with your plans to start a family and then get back to me. But for now, the cosmetic station at Bettina Lorena's is yours, obviously.”
Pris was still reeling from the partnership offer and felt quite unable to react to the other things Bettina had raised. Starting a family? She blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, as Carole-Ann plunked their coffees down before them.
“If you didn't offer her that job, then you're crazy,” said Carole-Ann, catching sight of Pris' winded face.
“She offered me the job, Caz,” Pris said hastily.
“Oh my god, that's great!” hooted Carole-Ann with what Pris suggested was the closest approximation of a girly squeal that Carole-Ann had ever uttered. She grabbed Pris by the shoulders and squeezed her in a bear-hug, before sauntering back to fetch their grilled cheese sandwiches.
“She'll be on her cell phone before we take a single bite,” predicted Bettina with a knowing look.
“You're probably right,” agreed Pris. “Does it matter? Do you need to let Lois and Billie know first?”
Bettina gave her a level look. “You really think they didn't get a promise outta me two days ago to hire you?”
Pris laughed.
“You've really lit a fire under those two,” said Bettina raising her coffee cup. “They're driving to a vintage fayre two towns over this weekend, to look out some signs and props for the store.”
“They've got some really good ideas,” said Pris. “Have you heard Lois's idea for her photo-shoot?”
Bettina shook her head.
“It's brilliant, Billie's too.”
Over their lunch, they discussed Bettina's idea for a smart new black uniform with pink logo and Pris' idea to have the whole interior done out in retro fifties-style like the diner.
“It's good to have goals,” Bettina said complacently. “And we are booked up solid for the next three weeks, so we got cause to make plans.”
“Do you mind if I just quickly shoot a message to Jared to let him know the good news?” asked Pris.
“Go right ahead,” said Bettina. “I gotta powder my nose anyhow.”
Pris fished her phone out of her bag. 'I got the job! Can't wait to tell you all about it!'
When they returned to the beauty parlor, Pris found Billie and Lois had used the time to decorate the place with balloons and banners and there was even a huge cake in her honor. There were four clients in the waiting room, who all joined in with the celebrations.
“Congratulations honey!” Lois beamed. “We couldn't be more thrilled to have you on board!”
Billie had designed new signs above all their workstations. She'd even done one, rather self-consciously, for herself.
She had done Pris's as 'Pristine'. “I think it suits you better than Priscilla,” Billie explained. “You know... like back in the day they used to have names like 'Ideal' and 'Verity'. Virtue names.”
“Virtue names?” repeated Lois, as she teased out Leona Williams' hair. “I like that. I wish I'd heard of that before I had you honey. I should have called you 'Creative' or 'Talent'.”
Billie flushed. “Thanks Mom,” she murmured, dipping her head to hide her embarrassed pleasure.
“Those are beeyootiful names,” said Leona. “You mind if I make a note of them, Lois? My daughter's expecting in September.”
“Not at all, honey, you go right ahead.”
“Creative Williams,” murmured Leona. “I like that. Annoying thing is she's all fired up to give the baby it's Daddy's name which is Carter. Creative Carter just doesn't have the same ring to it.”
“Uh-uh,” said Lois, speaking with a hair clip in her mouth. “I don't believe a mother and child should have different surnames. If Ed hadn't put a ring on it, my baby would have had my maiden name not his.”
“What's your maiden name, Lois?” asked Pris with interest. She was just cutting a slice of cake for her client, who wanted to learn how to contour to make her nose smaller and her forehead lower.
Lois removed the clip. “Hinkel,” she said clearly.
“Billie Hinkel,” said Pris. “It does have a ring to it.”
“Maybe I could make that my professional name you know, for when I have my own line,” said Billie thoughtfully.
“I love that,” said Lois. “My god, I would be proud as punch. Your grandma would have burst with pride to see how you're turning out. You remind me of her a lot these days.”
“You have any old pictures of grandma?” asked Billie with interest.
“Sure, we can dig them out tonight hon. Go through the old albums.”
“Awesome.”
Mother and daughter exchanged smiles.
Pris gave her client, Janey, her cake and set out the contour palette and brushes. The new stuff they'd ordered from Matinee had arrived and they now had lots more exciting products to choose from. “It's all about light and shade, you see,” she said. “And creating an illusion. I'm going to show you two methods, one with a powder palette and one with some cream sticks. Then we can decide which one suits you best. How does that sound?”
Janey dabbed the corners of her mouth with the pink napkin. “Sounds great,” she said. “I can't wait to learn.”
“I'm thinking of designing a customer satisfaction feedback questionnaire,” said Pris. “How would you feel about filling one out about your experience if we gave it you to take home or sent it you via email?” she glanced across at Bettina who looked up from painting Mrs Peterson's nails into scarlet talons.
“That kinda thinking is why I'm taking her on,” Bettina said wryly.
“It's the future,” agreed Mrs Peterson.
The afternoon flew by, and the only mildly uncomfortable moment was when the door jangled and a thin tall man in a crumpled suit shambled in. When Pris glanced up, his eyes were intent on her and she nearly dropped her angled brush. It was the man from the doorway, the night before. She was sure of it. B
illie hurried over to him and they had a quiet conversation over by the cash register, though Pris noticed his frequent glances her way.
“What'd he want?” asked Bettina loudly, as the door shut behind him.
“He wanted to know if we did vouchers, so he could buy some for his wife's birthday,” answered Billie.
“You know that's not a bad idea,” said Lois, plunking her hand on a hip. “If we did like a gift package type thing. We could get a brochure made up with make-over ‘before’ and ‘after’ photos.”
“Patrick said he'd bring over the portfolio from Carole-Ann's photo-shoot next Tuesday,” said Billie. “I can't wait to see them.”
“We need an ideas board,” said Pris, recovering from her discomfort. “We could have it in the back room. To keep track of all our ideas.”
“Billie?” said Bettina pointedly.
“On it,” said Bilie with a grin. “I am keeping an electronic list on your laptop though Bettina,” she said reassuringly. She was sat updating the Facebook page with photos of Pris' cake and balloons and news of her permanent appointment.
“Good girl. Now that's smart. I still like the idea of a board though, that we could all scrawl on when inspiration strikes,” said Bettina.
“I had another idea,” said Lois, patting a curler into place on her client's head. “For Pris' photo-shoot.”
“What is it, Mom?” asked Billie, looking up from the laptop.
I think that Pris should be a showgirl - you know, playing on her reputation as an exotic dancer. Sequins, feathers.”
“Like Marilyn at the beginning of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?” suggested Billie.
“Exactly,” said Lois, pointing a long-tailed comb.
“I could strike one of those poses, with the hat and cane,” suggested Pris, half-serious, half-joking.
“You definitely need to be looking back over your shoulder at the camera,” said Bettina. “And smoldering.” They all laughed. “What?” asked Bettina, picking up a nail file. “You trynna tell me, after dancing round that pole in Royston for all those years, you don't know how to smolder?”
“Wouldn't dream of it,” said Pris. She arched her eyebrows at Janey, who laughed.
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