by Debby Mayne
The lines on her face make her look much older than her almost-sixty years. “Doesn’t look to me like you’ve saved many . . . bucks.”
She’s obviously not going to let go of this issue, so I walk across the room, place my hands on her shoulders, and look her squarely in the eye. “Please don’t do this. I’m in a business that’s all about outward appearance, and I just happen to feel very good about it.”
“I don’t know how you turned out this way.” Is that a tear I see forming in her eye? “I wanted so badly for you to embrace real values and not something so . . . ” She waves her hand toward the closet. “So ostentatious.”
“So are we going to church tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t we? You know I never miss church.”
“How about Dad?”
She closes her eyes and swallows hard. I can tell this is really tough for her. “Your father hasn’t warmed a church pew in . . . I don’t even know how long it’s been.”
“We all went together last time I was here,” I remind her.
“But that was only for show because you were here.”
I back away from Mother as I think about the odd comments from people on that Sunday. Several of the men told Dad they were happy he’d decided to return. When I asked him about it later, he changed the subject, and Mother jumped right in to keep me from bringing it up again.
“That explains a lot,” I say. “Why did you keep the separation a secret from me? It’s not like I’d never find out.”
“We wanted to make sure that’s what we wanted. No point in upsetting you.”
“But I am upset. And it has more to do with not telling me than anything else.”
Mother folds her arms, juts her chin, and stares me down. “Okay, Miss Priss, tell me what you would have done if we’d told you.”
“I . . . I would have tried to help you two work through things. We could have sat down and found a solution to your problem.”
“We’ve been working on solutions for years.”
“I don’t think y’all tried hard enough.”
“Bingo. That’s exactly why we didn’t tell you. We’re done trying to find solutions. We’re ready to move on.” She breaks eye contact and heads out the door. “Don’t bother doing all the housework, or Teresa won’t have anything to do.”
Before Mother gets completely out of earshot, I let her know I might not be home for supper. “Laura is still struggling to finish all the jobs she’s committed to.”
“Maybe it’s not her fault,” Mother says, which surprises me. She’s never been a Laura Moss fan.
“I’m sure you’re right. She has her hands full with Pete, the four kids, and trying to get this reunion whipped into shape.”
“Since you have so many plans while you’re in town, I’ll keep mine with the Classy Lassies.”
“I would hope so.”
When she first joined the Classy Lassies, Dad didn’t understand her wanting to do so much with the Red Hat group, after doting on him all their married life. But he somehow got over it . . . at least I thought he did. Maybe that’s part of their problem—that she went from centering her whole life on Dad and me to wanting to have a bunch of girlfriends to hang out with. Since Mother doesn’t do anything halfway, I suspect she most likely overdid her Classy Lassie socializing.
After I get my room straightened, leaving only a few things for Teresa to do, I head out to my Piney Point salon. Sheila is at the front desk, talking on the phone and jotting something in the appointment book. She glances up at me, winks, and points to the floor area. I look up and see Chester smiling back at me.
“How in the world have you been, Priscilla? We have been so excited about having you back here. There’s some cake in the break room.”
I pat my hips. “Cake is the last thing I need, but thanks for the warm welcome. How’re the facials coming along?”
He shakes his head and makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “I never thought Piney Point could support an aesthetician, but, girl, it sure can. After what you did for Celeste, it’s like all the women in town are comin’ out of the woodwork, wantin’ the same miracle done on them.”
“And I’m sure you’re doing a wonderful job with them,” I say.
“Celeste and Laura both insist on you doing their faces, but I’ve taken all the rest of the appointments for facials.” He lifts his comb and pumps the chair with his foot simultaneously, raising his client high enough to work on her hair. As he detangles her hair, he continues chatting about how busy the next couple of weeks will be.
I’m unable to get a word in edgewise, until Sheila shows up and rescues me. “C’mon back here, Priscilla. I gotta show you somethin’ I think you’ll like.”
Chester grins. “If you’re talkin’ about the new microwave-convection oven . . . Oops!” He covers his grinning mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise.”
“Well, you’ve gone and done it again, Chester, but I’m sure she’ll still wanna see it.” Sheila grabs hold of my arm and practically drags me to the back room. As soon as we’re there, she closes the door behind me. “That man is driving me insane. He never knows when to stop talkin’.”
I laugh. “So y’all are enjoying the oven I sent?”
“Of course we are, but that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. In case you haven’t noticed, Piney Point is growin’ like a weed. We need to bring in more hairdressers, or we’ll have to start turnin’ folks away.”
“You know I trust your judgment on that,” I remind her. “You’ve never had to ask permission to hire a new hairdresser before.”
“I know, but that leads to somethin’ else.” She extends her arms out to her sides. “Where we gonna put another hairdresser? As it is, we’ve got the chairs all crammed together on the floor. That’s another thing Chester talks about—gettin’ outta his space.” She snorts. “To tell ya the truth, I don’t know who wants it more, him or me. I’d love to be in another room most days.”
Last time I was at the salon, which wasn’t all that long ago, I did notice the close quarters. “Maybe we can knock down the wall to the private area and put a couple of chairs there.”
“Where will Chester do the facials? You know most women don’t want everyone seein’ them with all that goop.”
“Good point. Let me see what I can do while I’m in town.” I add one more thing to do on my mental to-do list that is already too long.
A look of concern clouds Sheila’s otherwise cheery expression as she touches my arm. “Are you okay, Priscilla? You seem unhappy about something.”
I don’t want to discuss my parents’ marital issues, so I force a smile. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just have quite a bit to do.”
“I’m sure you do,” she says. “But there’s something different about you.”
“There is?”
“Yeah, you’ve lost a bit of that spark, that energy that buzzes every time you’re within twenty feet of this place.”
I laugh. “Maybe that’s a good thing? I don’t want to electrocute anyone.”
“How’s Tim?”
So she thinks I’m having man trouble. “Tim is doing great. He’s coming with me to the reunion again.”
“Is there something you haven’t told us?”
“No, Tim and I are still just very good friends. I don’t have time for anything else.”
Sheila shakes her head and tsks. “That’s a downright shame. Haven’t you ever heard that love makes the world go ’round?” She twirls her finger in a circle around her ear.
“Yeah, and it makes you crazy too. That takes way more energy than I have.”
“Any luck yet with TVNS?”
“I had an appointment for last week, but the executives called to reschedule.” My hope is fading, but I try not to let Sheila see that.
“I’m sure it’ll happen when it’s supposed to,” she says in her motherly voice. “In the meantime, you have lots of appointments.” Her lips tilt i
nto one of her lopsided grins. “You made Celeste look so good last time, everyone wants your magic fingers on their hair.”
“Good.” Relieved to have an opening to leave this discussion that has grown way too personal for my comfort, I lead the way out of the break room and toward the floor. “Let me take a peek at the appointment book before I go see someone at the real estate office.”
I see that there’s nothing on today’s page, but starting Monday, all the times are filling in. Sheila points out the fact that my days right before the reunion are filled, and people are still calling.
“We got more men wantin’ work this time. Not just the standard haircut.”
Chester speaks up behind me. “Looks like metrosexuals are movin’ into the ’burbs. I’m glad men are interested in cleanin’ up a bit.” He shudders. “The unibrow just kills me.”
Sheila glances at me, winks, and nods. “Yeah, that unibrow thing is deadly.”
One thing I’ve noticed over the years since I’ve owned more than one salon is that each place has its own personality. This one in Piney Point is filled with good-natured ribbing, playfulness, and laughter. The salon in Jackson has always been more businesslike, and I wonder if that’s because my office is upstairs and the newer hairdressers are concerned that I wouldn’t approve of horsing around. The Hattiesburg salon is generally filled with girls from the University of Southern Mississippi who can afford getting their hair done at an upscale salon. Or more accurately, their parents can afford it. We also have more waxing and facials in Hattiesburg. I’ve learned to study what I call the heartbeat of each salon before I buy it so I know what I’m getting into. It’s always been much more than a good haircut and color. It’s more about how we’re making our clients feel when they leave.
I like how Sheila once put it. “If they’re not standin’ a little taller when they leave, we missed somethin’.” That about sums up my philosophy.
It’s Saturday, and I’m concerned about the commercial real estate office not being open. Jackie Miller, the owner who inherited the business from her father—and he inherited it from his father—is a few years older than me and the only woman I know who has as much ambition as I’ve always had. I like the fact that she gets me.
As I round the corner, I see that the lights are on in the front of the real estate office. They used to have their own redbrick building, over by the old train station, but her father moved closer in so he could be in the heart of Piney Point. Jackie told me he liked being closer in to feel the heartbeat of the town.
Jackie looks up from the reception desk as I walk in. I’m surprised to see her there, since last time I was here she was in a big office in the back corner.
“Hey there, Priscilla. I heard you were in town. Want some coffee?”
I glance around before turning back to face her. “No thanks. I know you’re probably busy, so I won’t take up all your time.”
She laughs and gestures around the quiet office. “Things have been a little slow lately. In fact, when Georgette retired, we decided not to replace her.”
Georgette had been the receptionist in the Miller Real Estate office for as long as I could remember. I loved walking in and seeing her glowing face framed by that gorgeous red hair. That woman could multitask better than anyone I’ve ever known, and I used to tease Jackie that she better watch out, or I’d steal her for the Cut ’n Curl.
“Does she need a job?”
Laughing, Jackie shakes her head. “No, I think she was relieved. She’s worked hard all her life, and now it’s time to go have some fun. Whatcha need?”
“The Cut ’n Curl is about to burst at the seams, and there’s not much room for internal expansion, so we need more space. Any ideas for a new location?”
She twists her mouth and chews on her lip as her thinking furrow forms. “Right off the top of my head, I can think of several options. When do you wanna start lookin’?”
“I’m here for the reunion, and the closer we get to the big party, the less time I have.”
“How ’bout right now?” she asks.
Another thing I like about Jackie is her sense of urgency. “Sure, sounds good.”
“Let me go grab my stuff, and we can go lookin’.”
Within minutes, we’re walking the streets of downtown Piney Point. The first place we enter has been vacant for more than a year, and the stench overwhelms us.
“Phew-ee,” she says as she waves the air in front of her nose. “I reckon this is what an old deli smells like when it’s been closed up without air-conditionin’.”
We walk around the space, and I try to imagine where everything will be. It has possibilities, but it’s not exactly what I have in mind.
“Put this on the long list,” I say. “Where to next?”
“C’mon, I have a few more within walkin’ distance, and then we can go for a drive.”
Every place we look at has potential. I’m able to envision my salon in each one, but nothing really strikes me as the perfect place for the Cut ’n Curl.
After we walk through the last place on her walkin’- distance list, she grins at me. “You’re not lovin’ any of these, are you?”
“No, but I don’t hate them either.”
“Tell you what. I have a place in mind that you’ll either love or hate—no in between. It’s been sittin’ vacant since . . . I don’t know, maybe the last world war?”
I laugh. “What place is that?”
“Instead of telling you, I want to take you there. Granted, you’ll have to use your imagination, but knowing you like I do, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
We drive about a mile before she pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned building that was once the ice factory. And she’s right. I don’t think it’s been occupied in my lifetime—unless you consider the four-legged rodent population.
“Ready to go take a look-see?” she asks, an amused grin playing on her lips.
I swallow hard. “I think so. Is it safe to go inside?”
She tilts her head back and howls with laughter. “It’s been checked out, and from what I know, the building won’t cave in over us.” She digs in her bag and pulls out a pair of flats. “I’m glad you’re not wearin’ high heels.”
“It looks terrible.” The bricks are discolored where someone tried to remove the graffiti. The few windows that aren’t broken are cloudy. The parking lot and grounds around the building are in such a bad state of disrepair I imagine a movie studio setting a horror film there. The only thing that looks decent is the tin roof.
“If you think this is bad, wait’ll you see the inside.”
She isn’t kidding. The second we walk in, something runs across the floor in front of us. The stench nearly knocks me over. Jackie motions for me to follow her.
As we walk through the building, the flaws are obvious, but she’s right. I can see the potential. “How much of the building is available?” I ask.
Again, she laughs. “You’re kiddin’, right?”
“All of it?”
She nods. “Yep, and it can all be yours for a rock-bottom price that the owners should be happy to get, considerin’ how long they’ve been tryin’ to dump it.”
Jackie tells me the price, which is very low, but I’ve been in business long enough to know it’ll take way more than that to renovate it. My first reaction fades as I see the potential in the combination of architectural details—that is, if we can safely save them—and the size.
“You’re right. I do love the . . . potential, but . . . ” I look around and shake my head. “Let me think about this, okay?”
“Of course. This is a decision that I’m sure you’ll need to ponder for a while. If you have any questions, or if you’d like to look at it again, just call or stop by. You know where I’ll be.”
17
Tim
I just happen to know where Priscilla is, and it’s taking every bit of holdin’ myself back not to go to Piney Point. Mandy likes to keep me informe
d, even though I think she’s had a crush on me off and on since I’ve known her. She flirts like nobody’s business, until she starts datin’ someone, and she goes all professional-girl on me.
I can’t believe I’m feelin’ this way about Priscilla since hope for anything between us faded years ago. Her ten-year reunion was a real eye-opener, when she made it clear how she felt about that loser Maurice. I know I’m obsessing over what he did to her, but I can’t help wondering what she sees in him . . . or at least what she saw in him before he showed his true colors. I could’ve told her he was tryin’ to use her, even though I didn’t know how. But no, she had to find out for herself that all he wanted was her money.
After we got back home to Jackson, she told me all about what happened. My heart did a few extra bumpity-bumps, hopin’ that meant she’d freed feelings from that guy and was ready to take a better look at me. I even took her to a romantic dinner, hopin’ to score some points. She let me know all she saw in me was friendship.
So I did what any man would do in that situation: I went out and found me a girlfriend. She was a pretty girl, too—all nice and soft and blonde—and she liked me way more than I deserved, considerin’ the circumstances. I might coulda fooled myself into thinking I was in love with her, but I didn’t do that. It wouldn’t have been fair to her or to me. I want that feeling like I get when I’m with Priscilla—like I don’t give a rat’s behind what else is going on in the world ’cause all that matters is being with the one I love.
After me and that girl broke up, I started hanging out at the Cut ’n Curl offices again. It’s not like Priscilla didn’t egg me on either. In fact, she came right out and told me she missed seeing me. So I thought maybe all she needed was a little time apart, and now she’d be ready for a relationship. I was mistaken, though, so I went right out and did it again. That girl wasn’t as nice when I told her I wasn’t feeling it. She cut one of the tires on my company car. If no one else had seen her do it, I might have let her off, but she was stupid enough to get caught by a cop riding around in an unmarked car. I was sorry she had to go to jail, but I wasn’t about to bail her out after all the threats she made.