by Debby Mayne
“Are y’all really doing okay?” I ask.
She frowns. “All depends on what you mean by okay.”
“You haven’t exactly gotten along since I’ve been staying with you. I’m worried.”
Mother points to the sofa. I sit on one end, and she sits on the other, and we face each other. “This is hard for me to say, so please let me finish before you go jumping to conclusions.”
“Okay.”
“Priscilla, you know we love you with all our hearts.”
“Are you going to start in on me about my chosen profession again? Because if you are, there’s no point in talking about it because I like what I do.”
“No, it’s not that.” She pauses and glances away as if trying to gather her thoughts before looking back at me. I notice her hair’s gotten very gray and wonder if she’d ever let me color it for her. Probably not. She also needs a style that isn’t so matronly, but I don’t think she’d let me touch her hair.
Mother clears her throat. “We’ve fallen into a routine without you here and having you underfoot all the time is rather . . . disrupting.”
“Underfoot?” I let out a nervous giggle. “It’s not like I’m a child.”
“I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?” Mother reaches for both of my hands and holds them tight, even though I try to pull away. “That’s not what I wanted to do. It’s just that we’ve gotten very set in our ways since you’ve been gone, and things are different with you here.”
“Would you like me to leave?” I ask. I feel like I might be starting to hyperventilate.
“No, of course not. But try to see things from our perspective. Going from two people in the house to three—particularly when we’re all adults—can be rather . . . trying.”
Now that she’s loosened up on my hands, I yank them away and stand up. “I’ll stay out of your way. I wish you’d told me sooner.”
“Your dad won’t be happy that I told you now.”
“I won’t say anything if you don’t.”
Mother offers a shaky smile. “Thank you, Priscilla. One of these days, I hope you understand, but you may not since it doesn’t appear you’re all that family oriented, with your business and all. I always thought I’d be a grandma by now.” She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “But that will probably never happen.”
Well, shut my mouth. I sit there staring at the mother who once thought I could do no wrong and wonder what I’m supposed to do now. “Honestly, Mother,” I say. “What in the world is going on? I don’t know what to do to please you.”
“Don’t be upset, Honey,” Mother stands and tries to pull me in for a hug, but I sidestep her. “You’re hurt.”
“Maybe a little,” I say, “but I’ll get over it.”
Mother places her hand on my shoulder and gives me a long look, half smiling as though trying to console me. I smile back at her, wishing I could take off running to my room and have a good cry, but I don’t. I just stand there, confused and trying not to show it.
20
Laura
Pete,” I holler as I walk into the kitchen from the garage. “I need some help with the groceries.”
It takes him a couple minutes, but he appears in the doorway rubbing his chin, his eyes drooping. “Where are they?”
“In the trunk. I have a committee meeting in an hour, and I still haven’t got all my stuff together.”
He sighs as though he feels heavily put-upon. “Okay. I’ll go get ’em.”
After I check on the kids, I see he left all the bags on the kitchen table, but he’s gone, leaving me to put everything away. My blood is now at a low simmer, and I know it won’t take much to bring it to a full boil.
As I put the groceries away, I start supper. I bought a couple bags of frozen vegetables and pasta that I throw into a casserole dish with some leftover chicken and cover it in cheese, and I put it into a hot oven, hoping for the best.
The aroma soon floats through the house, and members of my family start showing up, one by one, asking what’s for supper. Since I have no idea what to call it, I shrug and say, “It’s a surprise.”
I dump the contents of bagged lettuce into a big bowl and pour in some bottled salad dressing. After tossing it, I scoop it into individual bowls and top it with boxed croutons.
“Supper’s ready,” I say. They dig in before I have a chance to sit down.
“Wait for the blessin’, y’all,” I say.
Looking like a bunch of hamsters, their cheeks all puffed with food, they lower their heads and shut their eyes. I’m the only one with an empty mouth, so I ask the Lord to bless the meal. When I open my eyes again, I see that not a one of ’em has wasted any time shoveling more food into their mouths.
“This is good,” Pete says between bites. “Tastes fancy.”
“I don’t like it,” Bubba announces.
I glance at his plate and see that it’s half empty. “Looks like it took you a few bites to figure that out.”
He digs around with his fork and pulls out a green vegetable. “What’s this?”
“That’s a pea, stupid,” Renee says. She turns to me and grins. “I like it.”
Bubba’s face scrunches up as he pushes his plate away. “I hate peas.”
“There’s peanut butter in the pantry,” I say.
“Yuck.” He starts to get up, but Pete surprises me and yanks Bubba back into his chair.
“You will not talk to your mama like that after all the work she put into making this fancy meal for us.”
My ears ring. Is it possible my husband has turned over a new leaf? Even if he hasn’t, it’s nice to get a glimmer to remind me why I married him.
Bubba nibbles at the rest of his supper, separating the veggies from the pasta and meat, while Pete and the other young’uns polish off theirs. When they’re done, Pete tells them to go get their baths, and he’ll tell them a story. After they’re gone, he leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“I don’t thank you enough,” he whispers, sending goose pimples racing down my arms. “That was good.” Then he leaves me standing there in shock.
Then I remember everything I still have to do. Here we are, two weeks before the reunion, and I still don’t have half the work done. I get up, clear the table, and fill the dishwasher.
I’ve barely finished cleaning the kitchen when the doorbell rings. Since I’m busy in the kitchen, I figure it’s someone else’s job to answer the door. But then the doorbell rings again.
I wipe my hands on the dishtowel, stomp into the foyer, and yank the door open, expecting to see dowdy Celeste. My chin near-bout comes unhinged when I get a look at her.
“Are you gonna invite me in, or do you plan on standin’ there with your eyes buggin’ outa your head all night?”
“Um . . .” I step back and gesture for her to walk inside.
She lifts her head a few inches and breezes past me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Pete coming down the stairs. He sees her, stops, and does a double take.
“Whoa, Celeste, you’re lookin’ mighty fine.” He continues staring at her, and that really gets my goat.
“Pete, Honey,” I say, doing my best to hide my annoyance. “Would you mind tending to the kids if they start howling? Celeste and I have some work to do.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” he says, now grinning like a fool, still staring at our guest.
“C’mon, Celeste,” I say as I grab ahold of her arm and practically drag her toward the kitchen. “We best get started, or you’ll be here all night.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” Pete says. “I’ll be right here in the living room.”
Celeste grins back at him. “Why thank you, Pete. Aren’t you the sweetest thang?”
“C’mon, let’s get this party started,” I growl.
“Don’t get all worked up, Laura. Pete and I were just exchanging pleasantries.”
What got her talkin’ all funny? “I’m sure, but there’s a ton of work to do, and
it’s not gonna do itself.”
I get her seated at the kitchen table and put her to work ripping the covers off the programs and stapling the new ones I made on the computer to the front. They look homemade, but it’s too late to do anything else.
“So, you went and had a makeover for the reunion,” I say. “Or is something else going on you haven’t told me about?”
She gives me a smug look. “I just spent a little time at the Cut ’n Curl. Priscilla gave me a facial. Maybe you oughta try one.”
“I don’t need Priscilla to give me a facial,” I reply. I also don’t have the money for one, but I don’t need to bother Celeste with that detail.
“It makes a world of difference.” Celeste rips a couple more covers before putting them down and leaning toward me. “I bet she could do wonders with your uneven skin tones.”
My hands go to my face before I realize she’s trying to put me down. “That’s what cover stick is for.”
Celeste tilts her head back and lets out a tinkling laugh. Makes me want to gag.
I’ve never been crazy about Celeste, but until now she’s been tolerable. Looks like gettin’ all prettied up has made her a mean girl.
We sit there glaring at each other until she points at the fresh stack of programs. “Hand me half of those, will you?”
I shove the entire stack at her and take the one from the top. As I rip it, I imagine—
“You should have asked Priscilla to come,” Celeste says, interrupting my thoughts. “She wants to help.”
“You know what they say about too many cooks.”
“Yes, but we don’t have enough cooks.” Celeste tosses a program onto the pile. “Did we get the band situation straightened out?”
I hesitate just long enough for Celeste to know the answer before I even open my mouth. She shakes her head and makes a pout with her shiny lips.
“What?” I ask. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“I think we need to get Priscilla more involved. At least she knows how to get things done.”
That does it. I slam my hands on the table, making them sting like the dickens. But I don’t allow myself to flinch. I stand up and plant my fists on my hips. “What’s up with you and Priscilla, gettin’ all chummy with each other? Just ’cause you got your face done up at her salon, you think you’re her best friend or somethin’.”
She lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “Sounds like a powerful jealous streak to me. You best get over it, or it’ll eat you alive.”
Pete chooses that minute to stick his head in the kitchen. “How’re you ladies gettin’ along?”
21
Priscilla
Celeste sure does get around these days. Ever since she walked out of the Cut ’n Curl after her facial, we’ve had at least a dozen calls from women wanting the same thing. I have mixed feelings about all this new business. On the one hand, more demand brings in more revenue for the salon and employees. On the other, we’re pretty much maxed out on what we can handle until I can add more people to our very busy Piney Point staff. Another issue is space.
“Hey, Priscilla,” Sheila says as I come out of the back room with supplies for my first appointment. “Have you heard anything from the Jackson shop lately?”
“I’ve been calling them daily. Why?”
She looks around at the busy floor and turns back to face me. “Everything is running too smoothly. That worries me.”
I laugh. “In some strange way, I’m with you. Last time I spoke with Mandy, she actually seemed happy.”
“That would be cause for concern,” Sheila says. “Why don’t you go call her now to put both of our minds at ease?”
If anything ever happens to me, and I have to put one person in charge of my entire business, I’d pick Sheila. It’s not that she’s any more intelligent than the next person or a better businessperson. It’s that she cares. About everything.
Instead of calling Mandy first, I choose to call the salon. Someone named Jackie answers. As soon as she realizes who she’s talking to, she starts stammering all over the place.
“Is Rosemary there?” I ask.
“Um . . . sh-she’s upstairs in the office right now,” Jackie says.
Suddenly my head hurts. No telling what’s going on now. Images of Mandy and Rosemary facing each other, glaring, nostrils flaring flitter through my mind. I shudder.
“Want me to go get her?” she asks.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just call there and talk to both her and Mandy.”
“I really don’t mind running up there.”
“Thank you, Jackie, but that’s not necessary.” Before we hang up, I try to put her mind at ease. “Welcome on board at the Cut ’n Curl. I hope you enjoy working with us.”
“Oh, I do . . . well, it’s only been two days, but so far, everyone has been very sweet.”
After I hang up, I take a deep breath and try to brace myself for whatever I hear on the phone. Then I punch in the office number.
“Prissy’s Cut ’n Curl corporate office, this is Becca. May I help you?”
“Becca?”
“Yes, may I help you?”
I clear my throat. Although I’m aware that Mandy hired a temp named Rebecca, I’m still a little flustered by someone I don’t know answering the phone in my main office. “This is Priscilla Slater. May I speak to Mandy?”
“Oh, yes, Ms. Slater. I just want to say how much I appreciate this job. I love working here, and I’ve been praying you’ll decide to keep me after you get back. I needed this job more than you’ll ever know, and—”
It’s painfully obvious that Becca has much more to say than I have time for, so I have to cut her off. “That’s wonderful, Becca. We can talk about that later, but for now I need to speak to Mandy.”
“Oh, sure, I’ll put you through to her office.”
Her office? My office? I take a deep breath, hoping to calm my sudden burst of apprehension.
“Hey, Priscilla,” I hear a few seconds later. “Rosemary and I were just talking about you.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask. “I called the salon first, and someone named Jackie said Rosemary was up there.”
“Oh, everything is just peachy.” I hear Rosemary in the background asking Mandy to hand her the phone. “Now that we have Becca at the front desk, I’m able to get all this work done. Thank you so much for letting me hire her.”
I didn’t leave her all that much work to do, so I suspect she’s talking smack since Rosemary is standing right there. “You do remember her job is temporary, right?”
There’s a long enough pause to worry me. “Of course, but that’s something else we need to discuss later. Rosemary wants to talk to you.”
“Please put her on.”
As Rosemary and I chat, I’m taken aback by her sudden affinity for Mandy. Wasn’t it only last week when they were ready to rip each other’s hair out?
“By the way, Jackie is working out extremely well,” Rosemary says. “She knows some of the latest techniques, and she doesn’t mind sharing with the rest of us. Thanks for giving me the go-ahead on hiring her.”
I only vaguely remember signing off weeks ago on a new hairdresser, but I don’t say that. “You’re certainly welcome,” I say. “Looks like we’ll probably have to expand staff at all our salons.”
After a glance at the clock, I realize I’m running short on time before my first appointment, so I tell her to let me know if she needs me. “Will do,” she says. “But me and Mandy . . . I think we have everything under control.”
My ears buzz with what sounds like the beginning stages of insanity. Did I just hear Rosemary correctly? Did she just tell me she and Mandy have everything under control? I know I should be pleased, but I’m barely over the shock that they’re even in the same room.
The next couple of days buzz by with more action than I’m used to, so each night I return to my parents’ house, exhausted. Mother makes a few comments about my doing all that manual labor, and Dad ju
st sits there and says nothing, which is another way of showing disapproval in my mind. I just scurry to my bedroom so I’m not . . . underfoot.
Tim stops by the salon when he comes to town. “You’re busy.”
I glance up and smile. “Ya think?”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“As a matter of fact . . .” I reach over and lift a to-do list from the counter. “If you can do one or two of these things, I’ll be eternally grateful.”
He pockets the paper and winks. “Consider it done.”
On the morning of Celeste’s second appointment, I start out with dread before I remember how much happier she seems now that she’s starting to look good. I just hope I’m not creating something worse. A few people have told me some of her changes haven’t been for the better. Apparently, Laura Moss is an inch away from kicking Celeste off the reunion committee because Pete has noticed how good Celeste is looking. Quite frankly, even if they can’t get along, that would be a huge mistake. Right now, Laura needs more warm bodies on her side, not fewer.
I walk into the salon that’s already hopping with activity. Now that we’re less than a week away from the reunion, it seems every woman even remotely related to my graduating class is getting something done to her hair, face, or nails.
Before I have a chance to put my things in the back room, Sheila approaches me. “Laura Moss called. She canceled her appointment with me and said you offered her a free appointment, and she wants it the morning of the reunion. I told her you’re booked, but she pitched a fit.”
I’m not sure if I need to explain a thing, but I don’t want to upset Sheila about Laura canceling her appointment. “Are you okay with my taking her appointment? She’s broke, and I don’t expect you to work gratis.”
She nods and smiles. “I’m better than okay. I have to live in the same town with her, remember.”
I sigh with relief. “I’ll call her and figure out a time to work her into my schedule. What time is Celeste coming in?”
“You have another half hour. Anything I can do to help?”