by Bonnie Tharp
Her heart skipped a beat. “How nice, but it’s kind of short notice. Can I call you back in a few minutes to let you know?”
“Sure thing.” He gave her his phone number.
Annabelle hung up, realizing she had wound the phone cord around her hand several times. As she unwound it, she started laughing. It felt good to have a man interested in spending time with her. She dialed Tillie’s number. After three rings, Tillie answered.
“If you can watch the kids, I have a chance for a free dinner.”
“You do? With who?”
“Tad’s basketball coach. I know it’s last minute, but . . .” Her wistful tone wouldn’t be easy to miss, especially when Tillie’s internal radar could sense when the weather and other things were about to change.
“Then we’d be happy to watch the kids. We can make homemade pizzas.”
“Thank you! Oh,” Annabelle gasped. “What should I wear?”
“You sound almost giddy.”
“I feel light headed all of a sudden. Isn’t that silly? I’m not a kid anymore. It’s probably what my grandmother called the vapors.”
Tillie laughed. “I don’t think it’s the same thing, but I understand. You need to get out more often. Wear that denim skirt we bought at the thrift store with your pink button-up blouse. You look great in that.”
“That’s a good idea. Oh. My hair’s a mess.” Spreading her fingers, Annabelle patted her hair.
“Call the shop and see if they can get you in. No more frizz, okay? It’s just too, out of control.”
“Could you come with me?” Annabelle closed her eyes. Tillie always looked sharp with her naturally wavy locks.
“Honey, I can’t, but I’ll watch the kids while you’re at the beauty salon. You’ll do fine, just tell them you want something more modern.”
“I’ll try. Will you stay with them over here tonight? They should be okay for a couple of hours this afternoon.”
“Sure, that way we can watch the critters, too.”
“Thanks, Tillie, you’re a life saver.”
“I think I’m beginning to look like a jelly bean. I’m getting fat,” Tillie said.
“You are not. I’ve got to go. See you about six.”
“See you.”
Grabbing the phone book, Annabelle dialed the beauty shop and begged the receptionist to get her in for a cut, style and color and found that Tammy would be available in thirty minutes. Annabelle called Phil back to confirm dinner at 6:30. He sounded as pleased as she felt.
She dashed up the stairs to brush her teeth and grab her purse, hollering for the kids. They came running into the hallway outside her bedroom door.
“What’s up?” Peggy asked. “You okay?”
“Where’s the fire?” Tad sniffed the air.
“No fire, I’m just going to get my hair done. I’m having dinner out tonight. You’ll be eating pizza with Tillie and Joe.”
“Chill out, Gram. Who’s making the pizza?”
“What? Oh, sorry Tad, Tillie’s making it.”
Peggy winked at her grandmother and crossed her arms over her chest. “Dinner with who? Where are you going?”
“I’m going out to dinner with Mr. Edwards, Miss Nosey.”
“Ah, Gram, not cool.” Tad threw his arms into the air. “He’s my assistant coach. That’s just gross.”
Halfway to the door, Annabelle turned and stared at her grandson.
Am I doing the right thing? I have no intention of getting serious; it’s just a meal. Then why are you so excited? You thought Phil was a bossy creep when you first met him. Go figure.
“You behave yourself, young man. Gross? Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“Television.”
“I don’t doubt that. Megan, you stay inside and read so Turbo and Tad can keep an eye on you while Peggy and I are gone. Do not answer the door. If anyone calls, just say I can’t come to the phone right now and I’ll call them back.”
Tad threw his arm around Megan’s neck. “Come on munchkin, you can watch me paint.”
“I’d rather read.”
“Okay, but come upstairs so I can keep my eye on you.” Tad gave her a google eyed stare.
“Come on, Peggy. I’ll take you to the mall on my way.” Annabelle opened the door, but didn’t wait for her granddaughter.
“Thanks, Gram.” Peggy grabbed her purse off of the newel post.
They raced out the door leaving the two youngest to fend for themselves.
Annabelle picked up Malissa then dropped her and Peggy outside the mall by Dillard’s. She made it to the beauty shop right on time.
Tammy, a tall, skinny blonde in her late twenties had recently graduated from cosmetology school. She took all the walk-ins. Her own hair was a curly style that looked like all she did was run her fingers through it.
“Tammy, can you do something with this mop of mine? It’s fuzzy and the color isn’t doing a thing for me. I want it to look more styled, but natural. What do you think?”
The young woman wrinkled her brow, picked up a brush, lifting chunks of Annabelle’s hair. She inspected the ends and rubbed a few strands between her fingers.
“Mrs. Hubbard, I think you just need a good cut and some conditioning. You’ve got some natural waves in your hair. How about we go with a warm gray all over color and layer it to give it more texture?”
“If it’ll help, do it!”
“Your hair is healthy and thick, but dry on the ends. Let me see what I can do.”
She wrapped a pink camouflage cape around Annabelle and pumped up the chair. Handing her a magazine, Tammy smiled at Annabelle’s reflection in the mirror. “I’ll go mix the color and be right back.”
For two hours, Tammy worked on Annabelle’s hair. She colored it, washed and conditioned it, then massaged her scalp. Annabelle listened to the constant talking in the shop. Having her hair done always made her drowsy. Tammy focused on her subject, not requiring much talk. Annabelle was content to let the stylist work her magic. She watched as the young woman picked up locks of her hair, angling them this way and that, snipping the ends. When Tammy was done with the scissors, she took out the blow dryer and a round brush and started styling.
When Tammy stepped from in front of her, Annabelle didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. The face was right, but the hair looked like a magazine photograph. It hung in soft waves around her face and positively shone.
“Is that me?”
With a huge smile on her face, Tammy nodded. “You’re a very attractive lady, Mrs. Hubbard.”
“How can I possibly do all this?”
“Did you watch me? Just use the round brush, a blow dryer and your hair will do the rest. It just needed a little TLC and some spray to hold it in place.”
Reaching up, Annabelle tested her hair and watched it spring back. “It doesn’t feel stiff.”
“These new sprays are really nice for a natural hold, not like when you and my Mom were young and wore helmet hair.”
“Are they expensive?” She didn’t want to spend the whole amount she’d managed to save, a quarter and a dollar a time over the last year.
“As a matter of fact, they’re on sale. Let’s get you fixed up with a round brush, some conditioner and hair spray.”
When they were done, Annabelle was poorer, but her reflection in the car window, and again in the rear view mirror, showed her it was worth it. She knew that Tammy had given her the products for practically nothing. That sweet girl had a new regular customer.
Driving home on autopilot, Annabelle bobbed her head to the radio. There was plenty of time to get dressed and put on makeup. She knew that she looked better than she had in years. Maybe even better than she ever had when she and David were married. He’d never complimente
d her on how she looked. He didn’t act as if it mattered. After a while she had stopped caring. When he started drinking, she couldn’t make him stop. Once he’d hit her that first time, it became easier to hit her again.
It’s all bull. It was never my fault.
Annabelle exited the car in a fog of memories. Had he ever really been happy? Had she?
Ascending the stairs and through the front door, she didn’t notice Megan until she spoke.
“Gram? Is that you? You look beautiful.” Turning she yelled, “Tadpole, come here quick!”
“What do you want, dork?” Tad yelled from his room. When he came out, he stopped mid-staircase, his mouth gaping.
“Wow, Gram. You look nice, for an old . . . I mean . . . you look really nice.”
Feeling the warmth fill her cheeks, Annabelle smiled at the off-handed compliment. “Thank you both.”
Megan gave Annabelle a big hug. “Wait until Peg sees. She’ll be proud of you.”
“Thanks, honey. Now, what have you been doing while I was being beautified?”
“Tad’s been painting. Turbo’s been panting. Tang and Ms. Pickles have been sleeping. And I’ve finished my book.” She counted them off on the pudgy fingers of one hand.
Annabelle looked at her grandson. “May I see what you’re painting?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, it’s not finished. You know artists don’t like to have our work seen before it’s ready.”
I’d better not roll my eyes or he’ll be crushed.
“Oh, right. Guess I forgot. I have to finish getting ready. Want to come talk with me, Megan?”
“Sure. Are you going to wear makeup, too?” The little girl took her grandmother’s hand and matched her stride on the steps.
“Why not?”
“Awesome!”
The girl followed Annabelle into the bathroom where she stored the new products she’d purchased. They rummaged around in the vanity drawer looking for makeup.
“I don’t seem to have much anymore, just blush and a very old lipstick.”
“Use Peggy’s, she’ll never know.” Digging in a small drawer, Megan held up sticks, brushes, compacts and all manner of cosmetics. “Besides, she has more than she can use in a hundred years.”
“I won’t use very much. I hope she won’t mind.”
Hopping on the counter, Megan’s head moved back and forth, looking first at her grandmother’s face then the reflection in the mirror.
“Gram, when can I wear makeup? Some of my friends already do.”
“At ten? Oh my. Things are different now, I know, but I don’t think you need makeup. Your cheeks are already rosy. Your eyes sparkle. Let’s wait until you’re at least thirteen, okay?”
“I guess. I think that’s when Mom let Peggy wear makeup, but she kind of painted it on. She’s much better at it now.”
Concentrating on the brush and color she applied to her eyes, Annabelle released the breath she’d been holding.
“I’m a little out of practice. I’ll just go easy and see what you think.”
The little girl watched her grandmother brushing color on her cheeks and mascara on one eye. “Does it look like too much?”
Megan studied one eye and then the other. “No, that eye looks bigger. Do it on both sides.”
She followed directions by adding the mascara and soft pink lipstick.
“Well, I’m too early for Halloween.”
With a smile, the little girl hugged her grandmother. “You look pretty. He’s going to love looking at you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Ahuh. And I think cousin Regina will be jealous.”
I don’t look half bad. A little color takes years off my face and gives me a little pizazz.
“That’ll be the day . . .”
The clock struck six and the doorbell rang.
“Oh, no. He’s early. I’m not finished dressing.”
“I’ll get it.” Megan hopped off the counter and ran down the stairs.
Tillie and Joe were at the door with a bag full of groceries.
“Hello, sweet pea.” Joe gave Megan a quick hug.
“I’ll put this stuff in the kitchen,” Tillie said, without waiting for a reply. “Where’s your grandmother?”
“She’s getting ready. Wait until you see her.” A grin stretched from ear-to-ear.
“I’m right here.” Annabelle stood at the top of the stairs while Tad stood grinning beside her.
“Have I got a nice looking Gram, or what?” He puffed out his chest.
Joe stood at the bottom of the stairs with a startled expression he couldn’t quite hide. Tillie poked him in the ribs. “Down boy! Sweetie, you look like a zillion bucks.”
“Thanks.” Annabelle felt thrilled and embarrassed at the same time.
Joe whipped out his cell phone and took Annabelle’s photograph. “For posterity.”
“Annabelle, get down here before he slobbers on the floor,” Tillie said. “Behave yourself, Joseph.”
With grace that she never felt she had, Annabelle descended the stairs. All eyes were on her. She felt her face warm. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the bell rang again.
“He’s early.” Tillie said.
Megan opened the door for Mr. Edwards, who walked into the cluster of people in the foyer.
“Is there a party?”
Tillie and Joe pushed the kids into the hallway toward the kitchen. “We’re making pizza,” Tillie called over her shoulder.
Phil smiled at Annabelle. “Wow. Ready to celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?” Annabelle asked.
“Whatever we want. You look smashing, by the way.” He took her arm, and they headed out the door to his car.
Goose bumps rose on her arm from where his warm hand held her. She knew without turning around that all eyes watched them from behind the parlor curtains.
Chapter 31
REGINA STOOD back and admired her handiwork. A table set for two, complete with candles and wine glasses. She’d tossed a salad and soaked the chicken breasts in marinade while the potatoes boiled. Rice was too unpredictable, if she remembered correctly. She decided mashed potatoes were an easy substitute. Sam’s wonderful homemade vinaigrette graced the middle of the table with a stick of real butter. The vintner had recommended a nice blush wine, chilling in the refrigerator. All the evening lacked was soft music, easily remedied, and the object of her affections.
Sugar curled up on the rug by the back door, watching every move Regina made. Sam was a tidy chef who seldom spilled, but often shared little nibbles here and there. Being less comfortable in the kitchen, Regina spilled lots more but shared less, so the dog cleaned up every crumb before going to sleep.
“A lot of help you are,” Regina said to the snoring Labrador Retriever.
The dog’s big yellow head snapped up as a car pulled into the drive.
“Woof.” The dog barked, then dashed off to the front door, tail wagging and nails tapping on the terracotta tile.
She fluffed her hair, straightened her shoulders and glided into the front room just as Sam opened the door. His broad face split in a grin at the sight of her. She couldn’t help but return his smile.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
He planted a kiss on her lips. Warming to her toes in seconds, Regina swayed when he let her go to ruffle the dog’s ears. “I didn’t forget you, Sugar Bear. You are both my favorite females.”
“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”
Sam froze, brows raised. “You cooked?”
“Now that’s not a very nice way to say it. Yes, I cooked. Are you alarmed or surprised?”
“A little of both, to be honest.” Grabbing her around the waist he picked her u
p and nuzzled her neck. “What’s the occasion?”
“I felt like it, that’s all.”
“No. I’m not buying that. You never feel like cooking.”
“Careful. You’ll spoil the surprise.”
“Ah, there is an ulterior motive.”
She looked at him through her lashes. “Perhaps.”
“Did you sell a painting?”
“No.”
“Did Megan find Annabelle’s pearls?”
“Uh, no.” Regina furrowed her brow.
He laid his huge hand on her stomach. “You’re pregnant?”
She slapped it away. “I am not!”
“Well, then I give up. What’s the surprise?”
Regina narrowed her icy blue eyes at him. “You are just going to have to wait and see, my very handsome man. Put on some music, would you?” She turned and walked back toward the kitchen knowing he would comply.
A moment later cool jazz played throughout the house.
“Nice choice.” Regina muttered to herself, smiling, as Sam and Sugar pounded up the stairs to the bedroom. Her hips swayed to the rhythm of Coltrane. A test of the potatoes revealed that they were done and ready for mashing. She poured off the steaming water, added butter, milk, salt and pepper then looked all over for the masher.
“Damn. Sam! Where’s the potato masher?”
Coming down in stocking feet prevented her from hearing his approach.
“I don’t have one.”
“Merde.” Her hand flew to her heart. “You scared me.”
“Use the hand mixer, it’s in the cabinet by the fridge. The beaters are in the drawer with the other serving utensils.” He went out to start the grill.
She dug around until she located them, right where he said they’d be. She proceeded to beat the vegetables into submission. Concentration and noise prevented her from hearing Sam’s return. He slipped his arms around her waist and gave her an easy squeeze.
“You smell good,” he said.
Leaning her head against his cheek, she clicked off the appliance and turned in his arms.
“So do you.” She kissed him soundly. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Name it.”