What Happens in Texas

by Carolyn Brown

  Misty hugged her. “Layla and I’ll remember you every time we sing the Cajun lullaby.”

  “Me too,” Lanita said past the lump in her throat. “You two take care of Betty and Layla.”

  Lanita walked out of the house.

  Cheri Jones got into the pickup with a suitcase full from donations to the church clothing bank. And she looked straight ahead as they drove south out of Blue Ridge.

  Darla Jean could feel her pain.

  “You want to know why I chose that name?” Lanita asked.

  Darla Jean nodded.

  “My grandmother never called me by my name. She always called me her sweet little cher, which is a Cajun endearment. And Jones is such a common name and so far removed from Landeaux, which was my maiden name.”

  “Very good,” Darla Jean said.

  “They won’t ever leave,” Lanita said.

  “Who?”

  “Your new daughters. They’ve found a home. I would have liked to but it’s just not far enough from him. I’m a little nervous but I trust you, Darla Jean. God walks right along beside you. I know it. I can feel it.”

  * * *

  Agnes was watching her afternoon soaps when the phone rang. She waited until the commercial started and picked it up.

  “You got five minutes to talk and then I’m hanging up because my show will be back on,” she said.

  “Good grief, Agnes, you are a snappy old thing today. It’s this changing weather. It’s gettin’ to all of us. Did you hear about the church?” Beulah asked.

  “I did. It’s a sign from God that I need to start going elsewhere. So I’m going to put my dollar in the collection plate at Darla Jean’s church on Sunday. Violet can have the church that God flooded.”

  Beulah gasped. “God didn’t flood our church. The toilet did.”

  “You think God ain’t got a message in that? Floodin’ the church with shitty water? Sounds like he’s tellin’ me to find another place. You and Violet, y’all go on and buy some new carpet and redo the bathroom. I’ll be goin’ to the one I can walk to from now on.”

  “Agnes, you have gone plumb crazy.”

  “Way I see it is that the rest of you are the crazy people. If God rains down shit from the clouds, y’all will probably stand out there and let it fall on you. Now my show is back on so good-bye.”

  * * *

  Marty and Jack washed up after getting the last of the latest remodel done on the Caddy.

  “If it don’t get cold and stay cold, we’re all going to die of pneumonia. This changing back and forth is tough on the allergies,” Jack said.

  “Amen to that. Are you bringing a plus one to the wedding?”

  “No, I’m bringing a plus three. You, Cathy, and Trixie.”

  “Your mamma is afraid you’re going to take women into your house and there will be gossip.”

  “It won’t be gossip, darlin’; it will be the unadulterated gospel truth.” Jack grinned. “Hey, I heard there was a new chapter in the Andy and Anna Ruth wedding book?”

  “That damn book is going to go on until three days past eternity.” She went on to tell him about the church and the preacher. “Next thing you know she’ll be sick and want one of us to stand in her place and marry Andy by proxy for her.”

  * * *

  John dove under the covers with Cathy. It had been warm that morning so he’d turned the heat off and now it was really cold.

  “We are pretending it’s December and we are in Colorado in the mountains. We’re snowed in and we can’t do anything but have sex for a whole week,” he teased.

  Cathy snuggled up next to him. “Then keep me warm. Speaking of warm, don’t plan anything for Saturday afternoon. We’re going to the wedding I’ve been talking about. Aunt Agnes swears she’s going and I don’t want her to have to sit alone. She’s a salty old girl and after the Jubilee upheaval, I owe her big-time. And besides, Darla Jean will be officiating, and it will take me and Marty both to keep Agnes out of trouble. Lord, she might ruin the whole wedding.”

  “Honey, long as you don’t make me put on a three-piece suit, I’d be glad to go to a wedding with you. I’d even be glad to go to our wedding with you.”

  “I know, but when we do this, it’s not going to be with all that fanfare, and it’s not going to be right before Christmas. I’m thinking maybe just the two of us on a mountaintop in Colorado or on a tropical beach in the wintertime with the white sand under my bare feet.”

  “Yep, my kind of woman. Now let’s make some heat of our own,” he said.

  * * *

  Jack removed his gun, badge, and radio and locked them in a desk drawer, untucked his shirttail, and unbuttoned it as he headed for the shower. Holidays always caused a whole rash of crazy things. People bitched about their neighbors’ dogs or their cars making too much noise. Tonight a whole block of people were without electricity because someone plugged in too many Christmas lights and blew out a transformer.

  One woman called to complain about her neighbor’s blow-up Christmas decoration blocking her view of the road. So much for spreading love in the season!

  Love!

  He wasn’t opposed to finding a special someone someday, but he’d be damned if he dressed up in a tux like Andy had brought by the station that day. It had a cummerbund and a vest, plus a cravat. The policemen were supposed to show up in dress blues. Jack already dreaded wearing that tight uniform, and the wedding was two days away.

  Trixie knocked on the door and waltzed right in without a “come on in, the door is open.”

  “We had leftover fried chicken so I made you up a platter, and Marty made her blackberry cobbler so I brought a chunk of it for you.”

  “Beans and greens?” He opened containers.

  “Oh, yeah. Dinner ain’t worth havin’ without beans and greens. You are going to the wedding, right?”

  “Yes, I am. In my dress uniform,” he groaned.

  “I’m going too. I’ve decided to go to prove to you and Marty and everyone else that it’s over between Andy and me.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Jack said.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “You want to see just what kind of god-awful show Anna Ruth has orchestrated. And it’s payback for the way Andy treated you. Nothing like watching him have to stand there in that monkey suit and vow to be faithful, is there?”

  Trixie laughed. “Well, there is that too! And Agnes swears she’s going. It’ll take all of us to keep her out of trouble.”

  Chapter 26

  On Friday night, Ella’s Beauty Shop stayed open until eight o’clock. She liked to close at noon on Saturday, so in fairness to her customers, she put in a long day on Friday. Her granddaughter, Kayla, did fancy nails in the corner of the shop, and to generate some business she was running a two-for-one special that week. If one person came in for a manicure, they could bring a friend and she’d do their nails for free.

  There was no way in hell Agnes was going to a wedding with her roots showing. Wild horses couldn’t keep Violet away from a social function and she’d have something hateful to say if Agnes had a gray hair showing. Violet would definitely be invited, since she was the queen bee of Grayson County and the president of the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society. Ethan had lost the election, but it hadn’t slowed her down one bit.

  Agnes made an appointment with Ella to get her hair done and dyed. And to help Kayla out, she made arrangements for Marty, Cathy, Trixie, and Darla Jean to accompany her and have their nails done. It was not because she liked any of them, but poor Kayla needed money so she could get her full-fledged cosmetology license. Besides, since it was the night before the big wedding, if Violet was at the beauty shop, Agnes would need her spiritual adviser and her bodyguards. The cost of two manicures was a small price to pay for that kind of protection.

  Ella and Kayla were looking at magazines when all five women traipsed in together. Ella, a tall thin woman with blond hair, laid her magazine to the side and went straight to the washing sink. />
  The beauty shop wasn’t as big as Miss Clawdy’s pantry. Right inside the door to the left was Kayla’s nail salon station. Four folding chairs were lined up to the right. Between the chairs and two hair dryers, magazines were scattered on an old coffee table that Ella brought from her house. Behind Kayla’s nail desk, two beautician stations were situated. Across the back wall, two shampoo sinks were set up.

  “Who’s first?” Kayla asked.

  “Me,” Trixie said. “I want the French manicure.”

  The other three pulled chairs up around her and were picking out their fingernail polish from a wide assortment when the door opened and Violet breezed in. She went straight to the back, picked a floral duster off the rack, and put it on over her bright blue pantsuit.

  “Ella, I’ll need the complete workup today. Trim, wash, touch-up, and of course comb-out. Oh…my… God! What are you doing here?” she gasped when Agnes sat up.

  “Uh-oh!” Trixie said.

  When Agnes sat up, she and Violet were barely three feet from each other.

  “I’ll get Agnes’s touch-up started. While it’s setting, I’ll get yours washed,” Ella said.

  Violet backed up slowly and sunk down into a drier chair.

  “If they get into it, you get Aunt Agnes and I’ll corral Violet,” Cathy whispered to Marty.

  Marty nodded. “Darla Jean, you will help me, and Trixie, you help with Violet,” Marty said out of the corner of her mouth.

  Agnes Flynn had worn her shoulder-length hair ratted and styled up on her head in the same style for fifty years. It had been red from the day of her birth and had never thinned with age like some women’s had. She’d sworn when it started going gray that she’d come into the world a redhead and be damned if she wasn’t leaving the world the same way, so she’d started getting it dyed.

  Violet ignored everyone and looked at a magazine while Agnes got her “touch-up.” Then Ella motioned her back to the chair right opposite Agnes. She removed the pins from Violet’s hair, brushed all the rats out, and nodded toward the shampoo chair.

  “So how is Ethan?” Ella asked.

  “Just great. This was really just our trial run, you know. We didn’t expect to really win but next time, it will definitely be his year,” Violet said. “And he’s got a new lady friend. She seems nice, but she’s headstrong. I think that’s what happens when a woman reaches forty and still isn’t married. They get set in their ways. That’s why God intended that women get married young so that they are willing to do what their husband thinks is best.”

  “I don’t know,” Ella said. “Young girls this day and age aren’t mature enough to handle a house, kids, and a job, and it takes two incomes this day and age for a couple to get by. So is Ethan serious about her?”

  Violet whispered, “I’m afraid he is and she is two years older than my Ethan and she has gray hair! And she wears it down to her shoulders.”

  Ella rinsed the soap from Violet’s hair. “I’m seeing more of that. Women today don’t keep up with the old standard that gray hair should be worn up or cut off.”

  “It’s a shame,” Violet said. “But what is a mother to do? She is a political science professor and she’s mature. She wouldn’t ever be flighty and break it off with him over a…”

  Agnes cleared her throat loudly.

  Violet mumbled the rest of the sentence.

  Ella squeezed the water from Violet’s hair with a towel and said, “There you go. Now let’s go over to the chair and I’ll get those roots done. While you let them soak, I’ll get Agnes rolled and under the hood.”

  Agnes could see every move in the mirror without actually looking right at Violet. That would be downright rude, and besides, the girls wouldn’t want to mess up their fingernails pulling them apart like they did at the football field.

  Didn’t Violet know that stovepipe black hair and the ratted flip look had gone out with the hippies? She’d moved forward with her dress style, but her hair still looked like shit.

  Agnes looked at her own hair in the mirror and made an instant decision. She was sick of wrapping it in toilet paper and putting that net over it every night. Sometimes her head itched between beauty shop appointments and she’d like to be able to shampoo it in the shower like the girls did theirs.

  “I want it cut today,” Agnes said.

  “It is due for a trim.” Ella finished with Violet and nodded toward the rinsing station.

  Agnes sat down and leaned her head back into the sink. Ella grabbed the sprayer and rinsed until the water ran clear and then draped a towel over her wet hair. “Okay, let’s go trim a couple of inches off and roll it up.”

  “No, I don’t want a trim. I want a full-fledged cut. I want it to look like that. No more rollers, just a couple of twists of the curling iron and a shot of hair spray.” Agnes pointed to a poster hanging above the mirror. The woman in the picture wore her hair cut in a stylish neckline with enough on top to fluff up a bit. Surely to hell it couldn’t be too hard to take care of that hairdo, and if it was she’d take her curling iron across the street and make one of the girls help her.

  “You sure about this, Agnes?”

  “Yes, I am. Cut it off!”

  “Aunt Agnes!” Cathy said. “Think about it. You’ve worn your hair ratted ever since I’ve known you.”

  “Yes, I have. But some of us can change with the times.”

  “Are you talking to or about me?” Violet said.

  “Of course I am. You look like shit with that hippie style. I don’t want to look like you so I’m getting my hair cut off short, and besides, I’m tired of messing with this ratted hair. Last week I killed a spider right above my head on the wall. What if that damned thing dropped down into my hair and built a nest? Why, it could kill me dead, and I’m not dying until after you do, so I know which way you go. So off it goes and if I don’t like it, it’s only hair, and it’ll grow back by next summer.”

  Ella picked up the scissors. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you sure, Agnes?”

  “If you don’t start cuttin’ pretty soon, I’ll go home and take the electric knife to it,” Agnes said.

  Ella made the first cut.

  Marty and Cathy held their breath.

  She cut some more.

  “I’m going to like it,” Trixie said. “It’ll take twenty years off you, Agnes. And it’ll be so much easier to fix.”

  Violet glared at the red hair falling on the floor. “You have lost your mind.”

  Marty cocked her head to one side. “Trixie is right. If you need someone to curl it and pick it out for you, I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll hold you to it, and if you are off shackin’ up whatever next sexy cowboy you chase down, then Darla Jean can do it. Trixie, you ain’t about to get near me with a hot curling iron,” Agnes said.

  “Ah, come on, Agnes. If I miss and put a burn on your neck, all the girls at your Sunday school will think you got a hickey and they’ll be jealous,” Trixie teased.

  “I swear, Agnes, you do look younger. How does it feel?” Ella said.

  “No pins. No rats. Feels light and breezy. I wish to hell I’d done it years ago. Don’t be looking at me like that, Violet. You could never pull it off. Your hair is too thin, and your face is too round. Accept it. You look twenty years older than I do. Just be careful about spiders getting close to you.”

  Violet had her mouth open to answer when the door burst open and Anna Ruth’s bawling preceded her into the room. Her hair was in little pink sponge rollers and she didn’t have a smidgen of makeup on her face.

  “Oh, Cathy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s horrible. Just horrible. We can’t have the wedding.” She threw herself in a dryer chair and covered her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “What now? Did my church burn down?” Darla Jean asked.

  “Maybe God is trying to tell you that you shouldn’t marry Andy,” Trixie said.

  “No, he is not!” The weeping stopped and she shot dirty look
s across the beauty shop at Trixie.

  “They get into it, me and Cathy will take Trixie. Darla Jean, you and Marty get a hold of Anna Ruth,” Agnes said loudly.

  “What’s the problem now?” Cathy asked.

  “My cousin was going to be my bridesmaid. She came to rehearsal and to our little private dinner at Aunt Annabel’s. She’s seven months pregnant, and on the way home, she went into premature labor,” she screeched.

  “And?” Trixie asked.

  “I don’t have a bridesmaid, and I’ve got to have someone walk down the aisle before me and scatter the rose petals and hold my bouquet and take pictures with me and all that.”

  Cathy sighed.

  Marty shook her head.

  “So you want me to be your bridesmaid?” Cathy asked.

  “Nooo!”

  Cathy heaved a bigger sigh of relief.

  “You are too tall to ever fit into the bridesmaid’s dress. My cousin is my size.”

  “Then why in the hell are you in here carryin’ on like a dyin’ coyote?” Agnes asked.

  “I want Cathy to make Trixie be my bridesmaid. The dress will fit her,” Anna Ruth said.

  Trixie held up both palms. “You are crazy, woman. Andy would run out of the church if he saw me walking up the aisle.”

  “Does he even know you are here?” Agnes asked.

  “Nooo! He kissed me, and we agreed we wouldn’t even talk until we say our vows. I can’t call him or anything, and he doesn’t know.”

  “What color is it?” Marty asked.

  “What?” Anna Ruth asked.

  Marty whistled loudly, and the whole room went silent. “The dress that won’t fit Cathy. Trixie wouldn’t do that job for all the dirt in Texas, so all the whining in the world isn’t going to do a bit of good. Stop carryin’ on and tell me, what color is the dress?”

  “Red satin.”

  “I’ve got a red satin dress that I wore to the Christmas party at the college last year. I’ll do it,” Marty said.

  “Really?” Anna Ruth said.

  Trixie gasped. “You have got to be kiddin’ me. After the way you’ve hated Andy all this time.”