by Ramsay, Hope
“You know, Les told me the same thing. But he was wrong and you’re wrong. That’s not ever gonna happen.” Especially with her father running around town telling any guy who might be even remotely sexy to keep his distance.
“I’m sorry, hon, but I’m afraid that it is.” Savannah gave her a big smile. And for just one instant, Molly could see the resemblance between Savannah and her great-aunt Miriam Randall.
Molly stuck around after the book club meeting, enduring way too much teasing from her friends about the things Savannah had said. But she needed to talk to Nita about something. She’d been stewing about what had happened yesterday down at the river, and while Coach was partly to blame, it wasn’t all Coach’s fault.
Something had changed in Simon the minute Zeph Gibbs interrupted them. It might be as simple as Simon coming to his senses, or it could be something way more complicated. Simon had been kind of broody afterward. And what he’d told her on the walk back to the car had kind of taken root in Molly’s head.
And of course, she was fascinated by Simon Wolfe. She wanted to know everything about him. And since he wasn’t willing to talk about himself, she had to go snooping. Which, of course, lent credence to what her father had told Simon. She did have a crush on him. A big, sexy, grown-up girl crush.
“Are you waiting on me?” Nita finally asked as the two of them tidied up the refreshment table.
“Uh, yeah, I have a question.”
“About the book?”
“No. About something totally off topic. You and Zeph Gibbs went to Dubois High School together, didn’t you?”
Nita’s face lit up with surprise. “We did. I’ve known Zeph since we were both little children. You have a question about him?”
“Yeah. He worked for the Raintrees, didn’t he?”
“He did. He was the caretaker at the Jonquil House. He was also a hunting and fishing guide when the governor brought his political friends down every year to shoot quail. He wasn’t so strange then. Why do you ask?”
“I was down at the public boat ramp yesterday with Simon Wolfe. I was fishing. He was sketching.” She left out the skinny-dipping part. “Anyway Zeph came around, and he and Simon took a walk and talked for a little bit. And afterward, well …”
“Ah.” Nita’s eyebrows rose. “I forgot.”
“What?” Molly felt like a bloodhound on the trail of something really important.
“Simon and Luke Raintree were great friends. Not that Luke lived here all the time. But Governor Raintree was always bringing his grandsons with him on his hunting trips, and the boys spent most of the summer here. Simon and Luke were the same age. There was a whole mess of white boys that age, including Stone Rhodes, who hung out together.” She chuckled. “A lot of those boys went on to become members of the 1990 championship team.”
“But about Zeph? Did he—”
“I know what folks say about Zeph. How he came back from Vietnam all messed up, and I reckon some of that is true. He might have been a doctor or a lawyer if he’d had the money to go to college and get out of the draft. But he had to go, and he went. And it changed him. Made him more solitary, I guess. But he used to come to church regularly. He was still a part of the community. But after Luke died, well …”
“Was he there when the accident happened?”
Nita sank down into one of the chairs. “I believe he was.”
“But yesterday, Simon told me he saw Luke’s brother shoot him. I never heard any such thing before.”
“Mercy. I never heard any such thing either. I heard that the brothers were hunting with Zeph and one of the guns went off by accident. I never heard anything about Simon being there. Are you sure you have it right?”
“Simon told me himself. And the way he said it, he made it sound like Luke’s brother was at fault. Almost as if he were suggesting that Luke’s brother did it on purpose.”
“You know, Luke’s little brother is a very famous man now.”
“He is?”
“Gabriel Raintree.”
“Oh, my God. The writer? The dean of horror?”
“Yes, ma’am. And he wouldn’t have been any more than ten years old when the accident happened. Gabe may have been holding the gun that killed Luke, but I don’t think Gabe killed his brother on purpose. It was just a terrible, terrible accident. And as I recall, the governor put the blame square on Zeph for letting it happen.”
Molly stood outside the Cut ’n Curl early Saturday morning, hoping that no one would see her as she snuck inside. Of course, it was completely stupid to sneak into the Cut ’n Curl. After all, everyone would know when she showed up at Dash and Savannah’s wedding later this afternoon.
With short hair.
But still. Molly could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had actually set foot in the Cut ’n Curl. For just about all of her life, she’d been happy to wear her mop of curly hair in a ponytail, or braids, or pigtails, or pulled through the back of a baseball hat.
But after the swimming fiasco, she had finally come to the conclusion that waist-length hair was just a royal pain in the neck. Quite literally.
And since Savannah and Dash were getting married today, it seemed like a good time to have her hair whacked off. She didn’t actually want to think too deeply about this plan, because somewhere, lurking deep inside, was this notion that she might be able to turn a certain male head, if only she would do something about her appearance.
But the minute she set foot inside the Cut ’n Curl she realized the foolishness of this notion. She shouldn’t have to change herself to turn heads, should she?
And besides, the Cut ’n Curl was like alien territory. The place was wallpapered, painted, and upholstered in various shades of pink, Molly’s least favorite color ever since Momma and Coach had forced her to live in a pink room. The place smelled sweet, too. Like the cosmetic counter at Belks. She stood just inside the door, her hands jammed into the comfy, deep pockets of her Dockers.
She wanted to run.
And would have, too, if Ruby Rhodes hadn’t turned, taken one look at her face, and smiled. “Well, hey, stranger,” she said. And then she left her station, where she was doing unspeakable things to Hettie Ellis’s hair that involved a substance that looked like mud.
Ruby walked right up to Molly with a serious look in her green eyes. “Honey, you don’t have to be scared. We’re going to pamper you today.” She turned over her shoulder. “Aren’t we, girls?”
The girls turned out to be Hettie, Jane Rhodes, Miriam Randall, and the bride, Savannah, whose hair was covered in tinfoil or something very much like it. Jane was bent over Savannah’s hands, giving her a manicure. Little Peter snoozed contentedly in one of those baby car seats with the handle. He was wearing a pink onesie. Everyone, except Peter, looked up and nodded, like they had rehearsed.
Molly’s heart started thumping, and her hands kind of went cold and then clammy. She tried to turn away and make an escape. But Ruby’s arm was stronger than it looked.
“You’re not running, honey. We’ve all had a conversation about this, and we’ve decided that it’s time for an intervention,” Ruby said.
“What?” Molly’s voice cracked.
“A beauty intervention,” Hettie said.
“Uh, I think what Hettie really meant to say was that we are going to enhance your natural beauty,” Ruby said as she firmly, but gently, directed Molly to the seat beside Hettie’s.
“Enhance? Uh, Ruby, I just want a haircut. I absolutely refuse to have mud put on my hair.”
“A haircut?” All the girls said this word in unison, and then little Peter woke up and started to fuss.
“Sit,” Ruby directed. “You are not cutting your hair. My goodness, Molly, your hair is your crowning beauty. And we are going to put mud in it. In fact, I plan to use quite a bit of henna on you.”
“Henna?” Molly had no idea what henna was.
“It really is mud,” Savannah said with humor in her voice. “B
ut you won’t believe what it’s going to do to your hair. And I have a feeling once Ruby is done with you, you are not going to escape anyone’s notice.”
Before Molly could say another word, the front door opened, and Rocky strolled in carrying a garment bag. “Oh goody,” Lady Woolham said, “she actually came.”
“What the heck is going on here?” Molly said. She might have stood up, but Ruby had a firm hand on her shoulder.
“When Savannah found out that you made an appointment for this morning, she asked us if we would all come together to make you look beautiful. So sit yourself down. We are not letting you escape.”
Molly stared at Savannah. She looked like she was channeling a young Phyllis Diller with her hair all gooped and foiled up. It was almost horrifying when Savannah grinned. “Honey, I don’t want you to come to my wedding wearing khakis.”
“Or ugly shoes,” said Rocky.
“Or your hair in a big messy bun on the top of your head,” said Ruby.
“Or your nails all torn and tattered,” said Miriam.
“Or your face without any makeup,” said Hettie.
“Or your eyebrows all bushy like that,” said Jane. Jane actually shuddered.
“But I don’t want to be made over,” Molly said in a small voice.
“Of course you do,” Ruby said. “And besides, it’s on the house, on account of the fact that you were so cool under fire when Jane went into labor.”
“But I—”
“And I know I made a mess of your yarn store so this is my way of paying you back,” Jane said. And Jane was so utterly sweet it was kind of hard to argue with her.
“And besides,” Savannah said, “you are always helping the knitters of Last Chance whenever they have a problem. This is our way of saying thank you.”
“But—”
“No buts, honey,” Ruby said. “Your daddy is really down in the dumps because of what your momma did. And I know it would do him good to see you all primped and polished and wearing a pretty dress.”
“A dress?” Molly’s heart really started to hammer in her chest.
“Yes, ma’am,” Rocky said. And with that, she unzipped the garment bag to reveal a berry blue dress that looked like it was made of silk. “This is Rachel Lockheart’s dress. I figure you and she are about the same size. She can’t wear it, of course, now that her baby bump is starting to show. I’ve got accessories out in the car.”
“Accessories?” Molly squeaked.
“Oh yes, honey, I’ve got some bracelets and a necklace and some earrings. You are going to knock Les right on his fanny.”
“But I don’t want to knock Les anywhere.”
“Probably a good idea,” Miriam said.
Suddenly all the girls in the shop turned to stare at Miriam.
“What?” Ruby said, looking over her shoulder at the old woman, who was wearing a pair of pink jeans, a purple paisley-print blouse, and red Keds slip-ons.
Miriam gazed up at Molly, her deep brown eyes gleaming behind her trifocals. “Honey, one day, pretty soon, I’ve got a feeling that you’ll get tired of your independence. It’s a fine thing to be independent. But it can get mighty lonely sometimes.”
“Really Miz Miriam, I’m fine with being independent. I like it.”
“I know. But I think you might find something a whole lot sweeter, if you quit hiding your light under a bushel basket.”
“What?”
“Honey, you’re like a chestnut burr, all prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside. You need to let folks see that side of you.”
“Why? So some guy can move in and insist that I do his laundry for him? No thanks, Miz Miriam.”
“Marriage is a lot more than that,” Savannah said.
Molly decided to zip her lip. It was Savannah’s wedding day, and it would be kind of ugly and inappropriate to express her views on the topic of marriage. And really, she couldn’t refuse this offer so earnestly made by her friends. They meant well. They truly did. Just like Momma and Coach had meant well when they painted her room that time.
So she settled into the chair and endured it as Jane and Ruby and Rocky tried to transform her into a more beautiful rendition of herself.
Ruby refused to whack off her hair and instead smeared it with real, actual mud, which had the effect of bringing out the red highlights. They trimmed off her split ends, and then curled her hair, and put it up in a completely ridiculous do. They polished her nails, then applied makeup and blusher to her face. Finally, they dressed her in the purple-blue dress with a plunging neckline that was practically indecent. The borrowed silver necklace, earrings, and bracelets made her look like a decorated Christmas tree.
The blue pumps with modest heels were the last indignity Molly had to suffer. Hettie said they made her ankles look slim and sexy. As far as Molly was concerned, they were torture devices.
The girls spent almost as much time on Molly as they did on Savannah, and boy howdy, did they work on the bride. When it was all over, Ruby surveyed the both of them.
“You’ll do,” she said with a satisfied grin.
At which point Miriam patted Molly on the shoulder, leaned in, and whispered. “Honey, the one you’re looking for is going to be a little late for the party. You may have to wait on him for a while. But don’t you fret, he’ll get there eventually.”
CHAPTER
17
Dash Randall had really tricked out his stables for a big party, but the bathrooms were just a little primitive in Ricki’s estimation. There was only one small one near the stable’s office, and the line for it was pretty durn long.
If she hadn’t been squeamish about using a porta-potty she wouldn’t have had to wait. But porta-potties didn’t come with mirrors. And really, for a big wedding where everyone in town had been invited, you’d think Dash and Savannah would have rented out the VFW hall over in Allenberg or something, instead of holding it up here like a summer barbecue.
She danced on her high heels as the line inched forward, cursing herself for the Diet Coke she’d drunk right before the wedding ceremony. She should have used the ladies’ room at the church. What had she been thinking?
She finally got her chance to use the bathroom. Then she checked her mascara in the teeny, tiny mirror above the sink. She was a mess.
She pulled a tissue out of her purse and blotted. Why did she even bother to put on mascara? She always cried at weddings. And the way Dash had looked at Savannah, as if she hung the moon, well it just made Ricki tear up something awful. She didn’t ever recall Randy looking at her that way.
On that sour note, she fixed her face as good as she could manage then she headed over the patchy grass by the corral to the big green and white circus tent that had been set up for the wedding reception. Thankfully there was a dance floor, so her high heels weren’t constantly sinking into the ground.
She found her table, only to discover Les Hayes standing there. He wore a nice gray go-to-meeting suit with a white shirt and a red silk tie. He’d obviously visited Danny Madison’s barbershop. He looked positively corporate with his curls all shorn that way.
Her insides went all jittery. She hadn’t said a single word to Les since the night he’d bought her a glass of wine at Dot’s Spot. And she still didn’t really know how to act or what to say around him.
At least he hadn’t seen her yet. He was concentrating on something, or someone, across the dance floor. Ricki followed the direction of his gaze.
Damn.
“Is that Molly?” she asked. “Or has Coach gone and gotten himself a sweet young thing?”
“It’s Molly,” Les said in a voice that sounded a little peeved or something.
“She looks beautiful, doesn’t she? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in a skirt before. And Coach looks like he’s having a great time escorting her.”
“She looks like she’s dressed up for Halloween,” Les said.
“Now, that’s just ugly. And it’s not true.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t much care for girls who get all dressed up in lace and bows.” He turned his baby blues on her, and she had this horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach because her dress was made of vintage lace in a dusty rose color. It was one of the few dresses she hadn’t put on consignment after Randy had dumped her. She’d bought it from her favorite Nashville specialty shop. It was one of a kind, and she’d spent an obscene amount of money on it—more than she made in two weeks working at the Knit & Stitch.
Les must have realized what he’d just said because his face got red. He really did blush a lot, didn’t he? It was kind of cute.
“Uh, Ricki, I didn’t mean that …” He ran out of gas, just as the Wild Horses started playing the “Tennessee Waltz.”
And then he interrupted himself. “Ricki, would you dance with me?”
She was not going to turn Les down a second time, even if he didn’t like girls in lacy dresses. But then at her age, Ricki was hardly a girl.
“I declare, is that you, Molly?” Lillian Bray, the chairwoman of the Ladies’ Auxiliary, asked as Molly and Coach reached the reception tent. “I hardly know you, honey. Bless your heart, don’t you look just like a girl?”
“You can say that again,” Coach said with a big grin on his face. He’d been grinning like that from the moment Molly came home from the beauty shop. She was glad she’d made Coach happy. He’d been so sad recently. But it was a shame she had to dress up like someone else to do it.
Why did people have to be this way? It was almost as if they thought she had become a better person, just because she was wearing a dress. But she didn’t feel like a better person. She felt like her same old self, only less comfortable. The dress was short and made her feel exposed. She kept tugging down at the hem and up at the V in the neckline. She also lived in constant fear that the clip-on earrings would come flying off. They looked valuable, and she didn’t want to lose them. She kept checking them, even though they hurt her earlobes and were hard to ignore. But most of all, she was waiting for the moment when she could take off her pumps and go barefoot.
