by Debby Mayne
I nod. “Let’s go fix supper.”
“I thought we’d just have canned soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”
Not my favorite, but if that’s what she wants, that’s what we’ll have—without an argument from me. “You heat up the soup, and I’ll grill the sandwiches.”
Less than an hour later, we’re finished cleaning the kitchen after supper. “Let’s put on our pajamas,” she says. “That way we can completely relax and enjoy the rest of the night.”
Once we’re all comfy, we settle in the living room—Mother and me in the matching rocker-recliners she and Dad bought after I moved out. “Want a snack?” she asks.
“I better not. Eating late will only make me puffy in the morning.”
Mother nods. “Yeah, good point. I’ve developed some bad habits that I need to stop.” She pats her tiny belly. “Like late-night snacking. I’ve put on a few pounds.”
We catch the tail end of Mother’s favorite game show. “Have you ever thought about trying out for ‘Jeopardy’?” I ask. “I bet you’d be good.”
Mother shrugs. “If they ever come to Mississippi looking for contestants, I might consider it.”
“Instead of waiting for them to come to you, why don’t you find out where they’ll be and go to them?” The realization of one of our biggest differences dawns on me. Although she managed to pull herself out of the poverty she grew up in, she still isn’t as aggressive as she could be.
“I might just do that.”
Mother picks up the remote and starts to channel surf. She’s about to flip past TVNS, when I lift my hand. “Stop right there,” I say.
She gives me a curious look. “What are you talking about?”
“TVNS. That’s what I’m aiming for.”
“TVNS? Don’t tell me you’re still on that kick, Priscilla”
I’m not sure about my timing, but I figure the opportunity is there for me to let her know where I stand with the shopping network. As I talk, I see a smile flickering on her lips. And then she giggles. I can’t remember ever hearing my mother giggle like that.
“What’s so funny?”
“I can just picture you on TVNS holding up one of your shampoos, telling all the lonely housewives who watch how pretty they can be if they use your product. Sort of reminds me of some of the early commercials back in the day.”
She has a point. I open up a bit more and tell her that some of my products have gotten to the final stages in the network’s decision in the past, but they’ve ultimately gotten shot down because I don’t have enough to offer.
“So what are you gonna show them next?”
I tell her about the complete big hair system. “Of course, it’ll have to go through their stringent QA process, but I have confidence in what I do.”
She reaches up and wiggles her fingers over the crown of her head. “You’re talkin’ about the stuff that makes your hair look fluffy on top?”
I nod. “Yes.”
She tilts her head back, laughs, and shakes her head. “I don’t know if that’s something women outside the South would be interested in.”
“We’ll see,” I say. I’m tired of defending myself.
“You can call it Priscilla’s Fluffy Hair Goop.”
“I’ll have to think about it.”
Mother points the remote toward the TV. “Mind if I change the channel?”
“No, go ahead.”
As she settles on a reality show that I never would have expected her to watch, I think about all the products I can sell on TVNS, including volumizing shampoo and conditioner, hair gel, and modified rattail comb. I need to make a final decision on the name of my line and go from there.
During commercials, Mother looks over at me but doesn’t say a word. I used to have a pretty good idea what she was thinking, but now she has a different expression. Could it possibly be respect? That might be a stretch, but it sure doesn’t look like vehement disapproval.
23
Tim
I kept trying to tell myself I was over Priscilla, but when I see her working her magic on her client’s hair, I get that old belly-flop feeling that lets me know I’m not. She has a way of making you think you’re the only person on earth when she does your hair. I know ’cause she’s done my hair a bunch of times.
Last night I spent about an hour trying to come up with a word from A Hundred Days to a Smarter Vocabulary, that book she gave me years ago, the one that teaches you how to learn a new word every day. At first, I followed it according to the instructions, starting from the front and working my way to the back. The problem was that some of them words aren’t natural. Take the word abhor for instance. I tried to use it, but it made me feel downright uppity knowing I could have just said hate instead. So I stopped. The only time I even look at the book anymore is right before I see Priscilla. And that hasn’t been all that much recently. Last night I studied three new words that looked like I might be able to work into a regular conversation, since I knew I’d be seeing her today. Much as I hate to admit it after all these years of getting shot down, I still wanna make Priscilla proud of me. Uncle Hugh has teased me about it a time or two, letting me know I should be past wanting some woman’s approval. But she’s different from most women, and I just can’t help that she makes me feel like a teenage boy again.
The list Laura Moss handed me is lame, but I promised I’d do everything on it . . . and I already have. Now it’s time to work on more stuff that she thinks she’ll be able to do herself but most likely won’t get around to. One thing I learned about Laura five years ago is that she bites off way more than she can chew, and then she makes things worse by trying to take a bite out of everyone around her. I ain’t letting that happen this time. I aim to be what Priscilla calls proactive. I grin at the thought of how much smarter I am, just for knowing that girl.
Priscilla glances up and catches sight of me. I grin and try to act cool with a wave, but in reality, I’m not cool at all. In fact, I’m sweating bullets. Not only is it nearly a hundred degrees outside, simply looking at Priscilla still sets my blood to moving faster.
She motions for me to come over to her station, so I do, trying real hard to go slow and not act like I’m all anxious about seeing her. “What’s up, Priscilla?”
“As soon as I’m finished here, I thought we could go over our to-do lists.”
I wave mine. “I’m all finished. Got somethin’ you want me to take care of?”
“I did everything on mine too. We really need to get Laura to relinquish more of the work, or we’ll wind up with a huge mess on our hands and find ourselves scrambling at the last minute.” She makes a funny face. “Again.”
Relinquish. I make a mental note to look that up later. I think I know what she’s saying, but I don’t want to take a chance and make an idiot of myself.
Then I figure now’s the time to try some of the new words I learned. “I perused her list last time I saw her, so I know some of the stuff that’s on there. I think she’ll be all jubilant if everything runs smooth this time.”
Priscilla grins. “You still have that vocabulary book I gave you?”
Trying to act cool again, I shrug. “I’m sure I have it somewhere.”
She smiles as she hands her client a mirror and spins the chair around. “Take a look at the back and let me know if you like it.”
“You look real pretty, Ms. Pointer.”
The elderly woman smiles up at me. “Why thank you, Tim. You’re such a sweet boy.”
Priscilla gives me a curious look but don’t say nothing. Ms. Pointer nods and says she loves her hair, and they walk to the front desk to square the bill. After Priscilla returns, she laughs as she sweeps the floor beneath her chair. “You amaze me, Tim. Sometimes I think you fit in here more than I do.”
“It feels like home to me.” As soon as I say that, I regret it. Priscilla has made it very clear that she’s never fit in at Piney Point, which is why she only comes home when she has to.
&nb
sp; “C’mon, let’s go to the back so we can talk in private.”
I follow her to the back room. She closes the door and turns around to face me. “Coffee?”
“No thanks. I had my daily cup before I left the hotel. So what did you need to get all private about?”
She glances down at the floor and slowly raises her gaze to mine, a worried look on her face. “We need to figure out a way to keep Pete from drinking too much, especially at the reunion party.”
“Yeah, I agree. But that’s hard to do with Pete. He’s real sneaky.”
“True, but I think we can outsmart him.”
“Whatcha got in mind?”
She mentions different ideas, including one to replace all the alcohol with colored, flavored water. I can tell Priscilla ain’t been a drinker. Anyone who tosses back the whiskey like Pete does will know the difference right off the bat. In fact, he could probably name the brand after sniffing it real good.
“I’m not so sure that’ll work,” I tell her, “but I’ll try to come up with somethin’. In the meantime, I need to stop by and see Laura. I got her bonfire permit, even though I don’t think we’ll be needin’ it after hearing the weather report for the weekend.”
“That might not be a bad thing.” Priscilla chuckles. “Without the bonfire, we won’t have a place for the keg.”
I lift one eyebrow and shake my head. “I’m sure Pete will find a place . . . like maybe his garage, which would be worse.”
“True, I hadn’t thought about that. What can we do?”
Be still my heart—Priscilla is asking me for advice. “I’ll come up with something.” And I fully intend to. No way will I let this woman down. “I’ll head on over to the Mosses’ house now. Anything I can do for you?”
She ponders that for a while and shakes her head. “No, not today. Are you going to the committee meeting tonight?”
“Of course. No way would I miss it.”
“You’re amazing, Tim.” Priscilla leans over and gives me a hug. I wanna pull her into my arms and never let go, but I’m afraid that would scare her away. Instead, I try to pretend it don’t matter, while my insides is quaking with pure joy.
She backs away from me, taking a piece of my heart—something I can’t help, no matter how much I tell myself no woman’s worth wanting as bad as I’ve wanted her since we first met. “Tell Laura I’ll see her tonight.”
I lift my hand in a pretend salute. “Will do.”
All the way over to Laura’s my mind races through different scenarios. Me and Priscilla would be so good together, if she’d only relax and let herself feel it. Even though I tell myself that, I know deep down that if it’s not there, well, it can’t be forced, no matter how much the other person wants it.
Laura answers the door looking like a wild animal got ahold of her. “Come on in, Tim. I have to deal with my young’uns, but it shouldn’t take long. I’ll be right with you.”
“Want me to wait in the kitchen?” I know the way, since that’s where our meetings were last time.
“Sure, go ahead. And tell Bubba I need him upstairs.”
When I walk into the kitchen, I see Bubba playing tabletop football with his Fruit Loops. There’s a mess of ’em on the floor where he missed his goal.
“Whatcha doin’, Bubba?”
He don’t even look at me when he talks. “What’s it look like I’m doin’?”
“Your mama wants you upstairs.”
Bubba just sits there flicking his cereal across the table. I wanna smack him, but he’s not mine, and I think it’s illegal to do that. The boy obviously needs some serious parenting.
“Did you hear me, Bubba?”
“Yeah, I heard you.” He stands and starts heading in the direction of the stairs, walking slow as a turtle with a broke leg.
Since I know Laura will hit the roof if she sees the mess on the floor, I look around for a broom to sweep it up. I don’t see one, so I bend over and start picking up the colorful cereal.
“Whatcha doin’ down there?”
I glance up and see Laura standing over me. “Cleanin’ up the mess on the floor.”
“It’s not your mess to clean up.” She’s talking to me like she talks to her kids, and that annoys me to no end.
Rather than show my irritation, I keep picking up the Fruit Loops. She gives up and heads over to the coffee pot. “Cream and sugar?”
“Sugar, no cream.” After I pick up the last of the cereal, I straighten up and extend my cupped hand. “Whatcha want me to do with this?”
She points to the garbage can. “Did you have a chance to get the bonfire permit yet?”
After she puts the coffee on the table, we sit down and discuss all we’ve done so far and what we have left to do. I express my concern about the weather, and I see the lines on her face grow deeper. The committee meeting is tonight, but with so little time left to get stuff done, we can’t wait. “We need an alternate plan.”
Laura shrugs. “I’m fresh out of ideas.”
“Then let me worry about it, okay? There’s no sense in you adding it to your list that’s already way too long for one person to handle.”
Her lips start to twitch before she breaks into a smile. “Tim, you are one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known in my entire life. I wish Pete could be more like you. Shoot, I think most women wish their husbands were as kind, considerate, and . . . well, you know.”
“Thank you.” I feel my face heating up. “Why don’t I see if I can figure out a backup plan for bonfire night, in case it rains? It’s gettin’ mighty cloudy out, so I checked the weather report, and it just might.” I stand and push the chair back beneath the table.
She does the same thing. “I don’t know, Tim. I’m pretty sure if it rains, everyone will find another place to party.”
“Like your garage?” I lift an eyebrow and wait.
“Um . . . yeah, I think it’s probably a good idea to come up with an alternate plan. Why don’t you do that?”
“Any ideas?”
She scrunches up her face. “Not that I can think of right off the bat, unless . . . Maybe you can talk to Mr. Danny at the hardware store. He books the VFW for certain functions. They might be able to work out a deal with us.”
“Is there room in the budget if they charge?”
“No, but Mr. Danny has a daughter who would’ve graduated with my class if she hadn’t . . . well, gotten herself in a family way . . . back when it used to matter if a girl was married.” She rolls her eyes. “If the hall is vacant that night, he might be willin’ to let us use it if we promise to clean up afterward.”
“And that’s if it rains, and we have to move the party indoors,” I remind her. Chances are good that’ll happen, according to the weather report on the Internet.
Laura rips a sheet of paper from her notebook and jots down some information. “You know where Olson’s Hardware is downtown?”
I nod. “Next to Olson’s Cafe, right?”
“Yep. Mr. Danny should be there since he manages the place. Tell him I told you to ask for him.”
I fold up the paper and stick it in my pocket. “Let me go run and take care of this. I’ll let you know what he says when we have our meetin’ tonight.”
She walks me to the door and stops. “Tim?”
I turn around and face her. “Ya need somethin’ else?”
She swings her arms and makes a face. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.”
I wink and point at her. “I don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about.”
She closes her eyes, smiles, and blows out a breath. “Thank you.”
The sound of her kids squabbling grabs her attention. Not missing a beat, she leans back and hollers, “Don’t make me come up there.” Then she slams the door in my face.
24
Priscilla
My time in Piney Point is flying by. I have an uneasy feeling on many levels. Tim is very comfortable taking over some of the reunion preparation,
which may seem good on the surface, but I have to admit it sort of bothers me. I mean, this is my class reunion, yet he’s more connected than I’ve ever been. No one knows how hard I tried to fit in. I’ve accepted the fact that it never happened; however, with Tim getting so involved, I feel as though I’m having to relive the days of my teenage insecurity. I have to ask him what’s going on, for crying out loud. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
And then there’s the issue of the property. I wasn’t completely blindsided by the fact that we’ve outgrown our space in the old salon. Every once in a while I’ve looked online to see what else is available. When I came back to work, the claustrophobic atmosphere made it clear that I couldn’t continue to avoid the problem, and I needed to do something ASAP. Sheila and Chester have been with me since the beginning of my career. They’ve been nothing but supportive, with encouraging comments and stepping up when needed. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ll do a nice job of overseeing the transition from the old to the new space. Granted, they rarely see eye-to-eye on anything, but that’ll keep the two of them in check.
Then there’s the issue of my parents’ marriage. The fact that they haven’t actually divorced yet leads me to believe there still might be some hope. If there’s anything I can do to help them find their way back together, I will, although Mother has told me to mind my own business and turns back to whatever TV show she’s watching at the moment. But I hold to the notion that it is my business. They’re the only family I have.
Celeste is my first appointment of the day. I brace myself for her snarkiness that she doesn’t even try to hide, even when I’m holding tweezers or shears.
I walk into the salon, greet everyone who’s there early, and head on back to the private room to set up for Celeste’s appointment. She says she wants the works, since her mama’s paying. I lay out all the cleansers, creams, and makeup I plan to use as I wait for her.
“Hey. I’m in sort of a hurry today,” Celeste says as she breezes into the room. I turn around and see that she’s already in the chair, ready to get started. “Let’s get this thing going. You have an hour to do whatever it takes to keep me beautiful.”