Pretty Is as Pretty Does

by Debby Mayne

  I pull the slushy drink from the container, wishing I’d taken the initiative to tell him I wanted diet soda. It’s not like me to hold back, so I make a mental note to speak up next time we go out.

  As he talks about his glory days, I’m taken back to a time when life was a bit painful for me. Although I had friends in all social circles—or perhaps because I had friends in all social circles—I didn’t have any super close pals I could share my deepest darkest secrets with. Some people say I fit in everywhere, but I see it as more of a case of not fitting in anywhere. I’ve been to Olson’s Drive-In after games, but I’ve never hung out there long because I felt awkward—almost as though I was intruding and didn’t belong.

  I’m waiting for him to ask about my life, but he doesn’t. Oh, well, that’s okay because he says he wants to see me again on Tuesday. Of course, I agree.

  That night, I lie in bed and imagine myself in a romantic relationship with Maurice Haverty. I find myself pondering the ultimate relationship with him and wondering if I’ll change my last name to Haverty, and if I do, will I use Slater as a middle name or possibly even hyphenate it. I’ll have to consider where I am with my business when that time comes. If I’m on TVNS, keeping Slater will be the easiest thing to do because millions of viewers will know me by that name. There are so many options these days. I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

  The next morning, I glance at my phone and see that Maurice has texted me, saying he can’t hang out on Tuesday, but he can the following weekend. I’m disappointed, but I figure that gives me a chance to go back to Jackson. I’ve been away from my office for a long time. Mother seems pretty happy about my decision.

  “There’s never a good reason to hang around for a man,” she says. “You might want to get confirmation that he still wants to go out before you come back.” I hear the doubt in her voice, but I don’t argue.

  Since I’d left my return date open-ended, I decide to show up at the office unannounced. All the way to Jackson, I think about all the things I need to do—first, stop by the townhouse to see how it looks, then visit the office, make a few calls, check in with Tim, and handle anything that’s cropped up.

  I arrive at the townhouse with butterflies in my stomach. It’s just a building, but I know all sorts of things can go wrong in situations like this. But when I open the front door, I see that not much has been changed. Everything has been repaired, and I have brand new carpet that’s a shade lighter than what I had before. It isn’t what I would have picked, but I decide I might as well learn to live with it rather than go to the trouble of having it replaced again. Now that I’m dating Maurice, nothing else is quite as important as it used to be.

  My next stop is the salon. Before I go upstairs to the office, I walk in and surprise all the hairdressers, who are extremely happy to see me. Rosemary pulls me into the back room and shakes her head. “Brace yourself before you go upstairs.”

  “Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

  Rosemary looks uncomfortable. “Nothing, actually. But things are different—nothing you can’t fix.” She forces a smile. “You’ll see.”

  Now my curiosity has been piqued. “Okay. It better not be a mess up there, or I’ll hold you personally responsible for not letting me know!” I smile.

  She holds her hands up and takes a step back. “It’s not my job to babysit your assistant.”

  I take my time walking up the steps, praying that Mandy hasn’t . . . well, I don’t know what I’m worried about. But when I open the door, I gasp. All the walls have been painted a pale shade of pink. My pictures of well-known people in the hair industry are stacked against one wall and there are large posters of celebrities—Paris Hilton and Ashlee Simpson and Ben Affleck—tacked to the walls. This looks more like a college girl’s dorm room than a professional beauty salon headquarters.

  “Hey, Priscilla!” Mandy comes out of my office, gesturing around the room. “How do you like it? I covered up those boring white walls—painted them myself.”

  Okay, I tell myself. It’s not so bad it can’t be fixed. I’ll do it gradually so Mandy’s feelings won’t be hurt. Maybe I’ll even leave one wall pink for accent.

  “Where’s Becca?” I ask as I glance down at Mandy’s reception desk and see a whole new lineup of pictures and decorations.

  “I sent her out for coffee.” She crinkles her nose. “That stuff we have here is gross.”

  “Before you make any more changes, please talk to me first, okay?” I say.

  “You’re not mad, are you?”

  I can’t say I’m mad, but I’m not happy about what I’m seeing. “I just prefer to be a part of decisions like this.” I glance around and see how much Mandy’s stamp is on everything. I don’t want to insult her and tell her how juvenile it looks, so I shrug. “It’ll be okay for a little while. Maybe we do need to change things up a bit more often.”

  She nods. “Yeah, I agree. I love change.”

  When I call Tim, he doesn’t answer his phone, which I find odd. He always picks up his cell phone when I call, even when he’s in a meeting. Sometimes he keeps it short and tells me he’ll call back.

  I’m looking around my office, trying to figure out where I should go, since Mandy has clearly taken over my desk, when the front door creaks open. I lean over, expecting to see Becca, but Tim walks in.

  “What a nice surprise,” I say as I walk toward him. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called a few minutes ago?”

  “I didn’t want to let on that I was in the neighborhood until I had a chance to see you.” He’s wearing one of his worried looks, something I’ve gotten used to. “Can we talk?”

  “Sure, but . . .” I glance over at Mandy who doesn’t bother offering to step out of my office. “Let’s go somewhere.” I smile at my assistant. “We won’t be long.”

  “Do you want me to put your pictures back up? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “No, just leave everything as it is. I’m not here much anyway.”

  Tim waits patiently by the door. When I turn back to him, he holds the door and lets me go first.

  We leave the office and walk down to his car. Instead of putting the key into the ignition, he turns to me. “I’ve been thinking about that Maurice guy. Something’s not right with him.”

  Tim is obviously jealous, but I don’t want to say that. Instead, I take his hand. “I’ve known Maurice most of my life, and although he does often overpower everyone else in the room, there’s something about him that gets me.” I touch my chest. “I’m sorry, Tim.”

  “You know how I feel about you, Priscilla, and that’s what makes this sound like sour grapes. But I heard several people say things—”

  I chuckle. “People have always talked about Maurice. The girls all wanted to be with him, and the guys wanted to be him. I’m sure anything you heard was based on jealousy.”

  Tim sighs. “Maybe, but I think there’s more to it than that. He’s been bragging about having you right where he wants you, and I think . . . no, I’m certain he has an ulterior motive. Just promise me you won’t make any rash decisions.”

  “No one has asked me to make any decisions, but I promise I won’t jump into anything,” I say. “Thank you for caring enough to talk to me. I know it must have been difficult.”

  He nods. “I’ll be here for you if anything happens. Always have been, always will be—even when things don’t go like I want ’em to.” He smiles. “Wanna go somewhere?”

  “Not really. I need to take care of some things in the office.” I open the passenger door and get out, then lean back in. “Stop by later this week, and I’ll have an order waiting for you.”

  “Will do,” he says as he starts the car.

  When I get back upstairs, Mandy informs me that my cell phone has been ringing in my purse. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to answer it or let it ring, since it’s in your pocketbook.”

  “You did the right thing.” I pull the cell phone out and look at the nu
mber. It’s Maurice. “Excuse me, Mandy, but would you mind giving me some privacy?” I nod toward the door.

  She frowns as she stands up and leaves. I close the door behind her.

  I hit the button to return the call, and Maurice answers after the first ring. “Where are you? I stopped by the salon and then at your parents’ house. They told me you left town.”

  “I’m at my office in Jackson.”

  “When can you come back?”

  “But I thought—”

  “I know I told you I couldn’t go anywhere until the weekend, but I’m dying to see you again.”

  My heart skips more than one beat, and my palms instantly grow damp. “I have a few things to finish up here, but I can probably leave by this weekend.”

  He groans. “I was hoping to see you sooner than that.”

  I glance at the calendar and make a quick decision. “Okay, I’ll try to get everything done by Thursday. It’s the best I can do.”

  “You’re a good businesswoman.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Thursday afternoon, then.”

  “Good,” he says. “Call me when you get into town.”

  I don’t understand what is happening, but I like whatever it is. Maurice Haverty has finally not only acknowledged my existence, he seems to want me. I never imagined this would ever happen, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Mandy looks mighty pleased when I tell her I’m only in town for a few days. I quickly get an order ready for Tim, letting her know he’ll be by later in the week to pick it up.

  “Can’t we just fax it in?” she says. “That’s what we do with everyone else’s orders.”

  “No, Tim likes the personal interaction.”

  Since I’m trying to get a week’s worth of work in before leaving for Piney Point, I’m at the office long after everyone else leaves. To my surprise, Mandy has actually stepped up and kept things running much more smoothly than I expected. She’s done a few things differently than I would have done, but at least she isn’t a slacker. Becca has made a place for herself as well. She’s been working on some of the mailings I’d assigned Mandy, and she’s doing an excellent job. Our database has more than doubled, and all the information appears legitimate.

  The next morning I call Mother and let her know I’ll be back. “If this isn’t convenient for you and Dad, I really don’t mind staying in the hotel.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Priscilla. You’ll always have a room here. Just remember that your father and I are very busy with our work and committees.”

  I hear Dad saying something about the Classy Lassies in the background, and I have to stifle a laugh. I know he thinks they’re silly, but if it makes Mother happy, I think they’re wonderful.

  In fact, on my way home I stop off at the mall and browse for something new for her wardrobe to go along with her new haircut. She’s not likely to go for a drastic change, so I finally settle on a soft cashmere sweater set—in coral. I’d like to see her in red, but I know that Mother probably won’t wear it. I have to help her make the changes by taking baby steps. With Mother’s warm skin tones and caramel-toned hair, this coral color is perfect.

  As soon as I get into town, I call Maurice. He tells me he’ll pick me up at seven and abruptly gets off the phone. I figure he has plenty of pressure with his dealership.

  I’m ready a few minutes early, but he’s about twenty minutes late picking me up. My tiny bit of annoyance fades the second I see his smile.

  “You look nice,” he says as he starts the car. “Maybe a tad dressy for where we’re going, but that’s okay.”

  I have on a pair of black slacks and a teal silk blouse. “This is what I normally wear. Where are we going?”

  “My aunt found out you were coming, and she wanted to fix us supper.”

  “I thought—” I stopped before mentioning that I thought he had specific plans before he called me.

  When we pull up in front of his aunt and uncle’s house, they’re standing on the front porch waiting for us. “They’re almost as happy as I am you agreed to come.”

  Something doesn’t seem right, but I shove that thought to the back of my mind. I need to relax and try to enjoy the evening.

  I barely know Maurice’s aunt, so I call her Mrs. Haverty, and she never asks me to do otherwise. I see occasional surreptitious glances among the three of them, and I wonder what is going on. During dinner, they talk about Maurice’s antics back in high school, and I laugh along with them, but I have to admit, even to myself, that this is getting rather old.

  “Did you tell her about the time you put that horse up on the roof of that high school in North Mississippi?” his uncle asks.

  Maurice cracks up with laughter as he looks at me. “Their mascot is a stallion, and a few of the football players thought it would be funny to put him up on the roof. We had quite a time of it, though, because we had to get him from the coach’s ranch to the school, and then he really didn’t want to walk up that plank.”

  “You stole a horse?”

  “Aw, Prissy, that’s not stealing.”

  It sounds like stealing to me. And mean. “How did you get him down?” I ask.

  “We didn’t. Once he was up there, we took off. I heard it took them two days to get him back down again, and he was never the same.” Maurice and his uncle are now laughing so hard they can’t even talk. I look over at his aunt and see her tightened jaw. She obviously feels the same way about Maurice’s antics as I do.

  “I hope y’all apologized later,” I say.

  “Why should we?” he asks. “They were our rivals, not our friends.”

  “But the horse—” I begin.

  “Oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those bleeding-heart animal lovers. It’s just a horse, for heaven’s sake.”

  In that very instant, I realize what a boor Maurice actually is. I’ve romanticized him in my thoughts, but he’s nothing but an overgrown kid who can’t leave his glory days behind.

  “Oh, by the way, my uncle and I would like to have a chat with you.” Maurice glances over at his uncle, who nods, stands, and tosses his napkin on the table.

  I follow them into a formal living room that appears to have never been used. Some of the seats are still covered in plastic, and I’m not sure where to go. Mr. Haverty points to a chair, and after I sit, he and Maurice plop down on the sofa.

  Over the next half hour, they explain why I’m here. Since Maurice and I are now officially dating, they want to give me the first opportunity to invest in expanding their tractor dealership.

  “It’s a no-lose situation for you,” Maurice says as he tries to close the deal. “A ground-floor opportunity for the expansion of the biggest business thing that ever hit the county.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and gives me a look that repulses me. “All you have to do is supply the capital, and then you can sit back and rake in the money.”

  Tim was right. I’m being used.

  “Can we talk?” I ask Maurice. “Privately?”

  He glances toward his uncle, who nods and stands. “It’ll be great to have you as a partner, Priscilla. You’re a smart businesswoman, so I’m sure you can smell an opportunity when it presents itself.”

  All I smell is a rat.

  “Can we talk in the car?” I say to Maurice. “I really need to head home now.”

  Maurice frowns. “Why can’t we discuss this here? I’m sure my uncle would like to be there when you’re ready to commit.”

  “It’s getting late.”

  He laughs and stands. “Okay, come on. I’ll drive you home. We can talk about our plans on the way.”

  During most of the car ride to my parents’ house, I ask questions about his business to stall for time and to make sure he doesn’t stop the car and make me get out, something I think he just might do when he hears my answer. As soon as he pulls into my parents’ subdivision, I point to a place beneath a streetlight where we can park.

  Once he stops the car, I turn to him and g
ive an apologetic smile. “I appreciate the offer of going into business with you and your uncle, but it doesn’t exactly fit my business plan.”

  “What are you saying, Prissy?”

  “Oh, that’s another thing. I go by Priscilla, not Prissy.”

  He laughs. “Well, you do call your hair salon Prissy’s Cut ’n Curl.”

  “That’s because—” I begin before cutting myself off. I don’t owe this man any explanations. I level him with a stern look, and he doesn’t have the decency to correct himself or apologize, giving me even more nerve. “My answer to the proposal is no.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No,” I say as I shake my head. “I’m as serious as can be. I am not interested in being in the tractor business.”

  He jabs his thumb toward his chest and laughs. “This is me we’re talkin’ about, Priscilla. The guy you’ve always wanted.”

  “I don’t care who we’re talking about.” When I see the look of disbelief on his face, I repeat myself. “I’m not getting into the tractor business.”

  “But you won’t have to do anything. My uncle and I will be the working partners. All you’ll have to do is—”

  “Give you money,” I say, finishing his sentence. “That’s all you want from me, Maurice. I should have known.”

  I watch his expression transform from concern to anger. “You might have made yourself over and turned into a good-looking woman, but you’re still a nobody.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right,” he continues with a scowl. “You’ve always been a nobody, and that’s how it’ll always be. I was willing to give you a boost in your social standing, but you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

  This is why I’m glad I waited until we were close to my parents’ house to have this conversation. I open my car door and tell him, “I’ll walk the rest of the way. Thank your aunt for the nice meal.” Then I slam the door shut and walk away, not bothering to look back.

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