She’d cleaned her house and her oven the day before in case God answered prayers real quick like and Stella brought her new fiancé’s parents to visit on Sunday after church. So when the ladies came to mourn, they wouldn’t find a nasty oven to heat up the casseroles. She hoped they all brought corn casserole, because Stella hated it.
Just thinking her daughter’s name twisted her heart up into a hangman’s knot. She’d never liked fighting with Stella, not even when she went through that rebellious stage in high school and wore her skirts too tight and her makeup too thick.
Nancy took a deep breath, banished thoughts of caskets and weeping, and said aloud, “I’m not going to give Stella the satisfaction of me traipsing up to the pearly gates before God sends her a husband. I didn’t know they were going to publicize this damn thing, but she can just damn sure get ready to pick out a big white dress and look at wedding cakes.”
That’s when the tears broke the dam and flowed down her cheeks to mingle with the salty sweat on her neck. She put her hands over her eyes and let them come. Whether in anger at Heather or sorrow at fighting with her daughter or a mixture of the two, they didn’t do their job. When she wiped them away with the soggy tissue in her hand, she was still mad and sad at the same time.
She pushed out of the swing and with determination walked the last half block to Ruby’s. It had been Ella’s Beauty Shop until she retired and her younger sister took over the shop. A blast of cold air met her when she threw open the door, and she inhaled deeply only to start coughing when the pungent aroma of permanent solution and nail polish remover filled her lungs.
It was about half the size of the Yellow Rose, with only one styling station, two dryer chairs, a chair for pedicures, and a table for manicures. Folks who were waiting in line had a choice of one of four folding chairs pushed up under a little round table over in the corner.
“You better sit down,” Ruby said. “You look a little dewy, like you’re about to pass plumb out. Did you walk through a sprinkler? We heard that you and Stella got into it down at the Yellow Rose. Kids! They’re worse than husbands.”
“I did not walk through water, and yes, ma’am, kids can be trying, especially when they grow up and think they know everything. And this is not dew; it’s plain old sweat that comes from anger and heat. How did you know about Stella, anyway? I just came from there. Can you work me in for a haircut this morning?” she said in a rush, hoping her voice didn’t break.
Ruby’s honey-blonde hair showed gray at the roots. The bright-red lipstick on her mouth was long gone but that part on the edges had seeped into wrinkles. Her stretch capris bagged on her bony frame and varicose veins twisted down her legs from calves to toes. “We saw the sign and you stopped at the Yellow Rose this morning. It don’t take much to figure it out, especially with Stella’s temper. And yes, I’ve got time to cut your hair.”
“Need your nails done, too?” Kayla asked from her table.
“Not today,” Nancy answered.
Beulah tucked her chin down into her ample chest and picked up the hankie in her lap. It was a perfectly creased little square with no wrinkles, but the day was still young. “Was Stella really angry? Maybe we should take her off the list. Or maybe Heather shouldn’t have put up that sign.”
Nancy leaned her head back and pinched her nose with two fingers, trying to stop the raging headache. Heather had been at odds with Stella since the day she moved to Cadillac after marrying Quinn. She’d wanted Stella to give up playing the piano for the church so that she could have the job. When Stella refused, it brought out sarcasm and pure old bitchiness.
“Well, there is Heather now,” Beulah said. “We can talk to her about it.”
Heather slung open the door and smiled at everyone. She wore a floral silk skirt and a pink cotton sweater, and her jet-black hair was cut at chin level, which made her baby face look even rounder. Her brown eyes were set close together and were lost when she smiled. She was slightly overweight and sweat beaded up on her thick neck, but she still wore panty hose and pink high heels.
“Good morning, ladies. I trust you’ve all seen the church sign. We’re serious about our praying, aren’t we?” Heather flashed a tight little smile. “Ruby, I just need my nails done today, so don’t be looking at the appointment book. I don’t come in until next week for a cut.”
“Stella is pretty upset,” Beulah said.
“Most sinners get angry when they know they’re being prayed for,” Heather said.
“Stella is not a sinner, and you should have talked to me or at least to Jed before you put that sign up. It needs to come down right now,” Nancy said.
“Of course she is. We have all sinned and come short. It says so in the Bible. Brother Jed preached about it two weeks ago, remember. But we can pray and pray until God sees fit to send her a good husband like he did when he sent Quinn to me. He will hear our prayers and answer them if we ask believing. Beulah is here and I see Floy over there getting her nails done, so we should talk about our next step in the program.”
Program? Holy hell and damnation! It had gone from a simple prayer request to a billboard and now a program? Nancy wanted to throw herself on the floor and have a tantrum like a two-year-old.
Floy held up her freshly done pale-pink fingernails. They looked out of place with her long-sleeved navy-blue dress buttoned all the way up to her scrawny, wrinkled neck and her tight little gray bun perched on top of her head.
“Heather and I visited a long time after the prayer meeting last night. We’ve come up with a plan. If we help someone like Stella find a husband, why, there will be dozens and dozens of young women flocking to our church asking for our prayers,” Floy said.
Heather took her place behind Kayla’s nail table and spread her fingers out. A short, round woman with a thick waist, thin dark hair, and squinty eyes behind tiny little round glasses, she put on her best smile as she looked over her shoulder at the other ladies.
“In a year, we might have our own website where we can enlist the prayers of women the world over for their friends, daughters, and sisters who need a husband.” She sounded absolutely ecstatic with joy. “In five years we might have our own television station where we can lay hands on the single women and God will put a man in their lives. And to think, Nancy, it will have all started with Stella. If we can just find a husband for her, why, the sky is the limit. We’ll build a bigger church and Cadillac will grow into a city the size of Dallas. I have a vision that starts with Stella. If we can get God to answer our prayers for someone like her, then the world will bow at our toes. So the answer is no, that sign doesn’t come down until Stella has a husband.”
“Someone like her?” Nancy raised her voice.
“You know your daughter. She’s strong willed, has a wild reputation in Cadillac, and lives up to the stereotype of her red hair. I was surprised that they let her play the piano for services after the stories I heard. I offered to take over the job, but she wouldn’t give it up. But still . . .” She let her voice trail off a second before she went on. “She is the perfect example to begin my new ministry with. If we can find a man willing to take her for his wife, we can do wonders with other women.”
“Take her name off the list and take down that damn sign or I will tear it down with my bare hands,” Nancy said.
Heather cocked her head to one side and pursed her thin mouth into a firm line for a second before she answered. “Not on your life. God has spoken to me. He will find your daughter a husband.”
“If I was Nancy or Stella either one, I’d be in tears,” Beulah whispered.
The whole shop went as quiet as a sinner approaching the pearly gates. Everyone held their breath and waited for Nancy to slap sense into the woman.
Finally after a full thirty seconds, Heather shrugged dramatically. “Tears are the beginning of repentance, Miz Beulah. I’m going to pray night and day for Stella.
We will fulfill our destiny. We’ve got the power of the angels on our side.” She tilted her chin up a notch before she went on, “Kayla, I want bright-red polish this week so the Lord can see it when I raise my hands in prayer for Stella. And I’ve ordered a red banner that says ‘Prayerathon on Sunday’ to put across the top of the church doors. A week from next Sunday we will have a potluck after services and we will take turns going to the prayer room and praying for Stella.”
Nancy was speechless. The shit storm had hit, and there wasn’t a thing she could do but duck and cover her head.
Heather went on in her shrill voice, “The Bible says that God helps those who help themselves. So we’re going to help him. First thing we’re doing is right here in front of Ruby’s next Monday morning, we’re having a bake sale.”
The fact that Ruby motioned her over to the chair was the only thing that kept Nancy in the shop.
“A bake sale?” Nancy asked.
Heather wasn’t interested in helping Stella find a husband. She was trying to ruin her business and run her out of town. Well, Nancy might be angry at Stella, but by damn no one else had that right, especially Heather.
Ruby swung a cape around Nancy’s shoulders. “I’m closed on Monday and the porch is in the shade, so y’all won’t get too warm that way. And I’ll donate one of my Mississippi mud cakes and leave the front door open for y’all to have access to the restroom. I don’t turn on the air-conditioning until Monday night, so I can’t promise cool air.”
What would Agnes say about all this? Nancy thought before she asked, “You think God will work faster if we put more money in the church offering plate? Are you crazy, Heather? God isn’t interested in money. He has streets of gold. Why would he need money?”
“No, but I think if there’s more men for Stella to meet, then she just might see one she likes,” Heather answered. “Are men’s haircuts down at the Yellow Rose still going for ten dollars a pop?”
Nancy nodded. Now what, Agnes? What do we do to nip this shit in the bud? She’s not sending men down to the Yellow Rose to help my daughter but to embarrass the hell out of her. Does playing the piano mean that much to her?
“We plan to give a ten-dollar money order made out to the Yellow Rose to every eligible bachelor that we run across. Every dime we make on the bake sale is going into money orders for haircuts. She’ll be so busy by Wednesday that she’ll wonder if she’s a barbershop instead of a fancy beauty shop,” Heather said.
“Kind of like that old sayin’ about Muhammad and the mountain,” Kayla said as she filed Heather’s nails.
“She won’t know what happened until one of those guys walks in and she’s love struck.” Ruby grinned.
Nancy sat straight up in the chair. “Do not, and I repeat, do not give one of those money orders to our preacher or to Rhett Monroe.”
“I can understand not giving one to Rhett. He’s a player, but why not Brother Jed? He’s a bachelor even if he is a preacher. He’ll feel slighted if y’all don’t give him a money order and he already gets his hair cut down there anyway so he’ll just be getting a freebie. Lord, I wish I was five or six years older. He’s so sexy I could turn into a preacher’s wife real easy.” Kayla giggled.
Kayla wore her short burgundy hair in a spiked hairdo that seemed to defy gravity. Her nails were purple that day and three sets of pierced earrings dangled up her ears. A heavy gold necklace draped down between two inches of cleavage that peeked out from a low-cut tank top. Ella would never have let her come to work like that. And she would have never allowed her to have a rose tattoo on her thigh, either, but Ruby thought it was all cute.
“Kayla! He’s a man of God,” Heather gasped.
“He might be, but he’s a man, too. And I’d go to Sunday dinner with him at Nancy’s any week she wants to invite both of us.” Kayla giggled.
“He’s too old for you, child,” Ruby said.
“Y’all are bringin’ God down from heaven when he’s got wars and big things to think about just to find a husband for Stella so you can have some kind of marriage ministry. And you think age would matter if the sexy preacher fell for a girl ten years younger than him? I bet he’s not a day over thirty and I’ll be twenty-one here in a few weeks. Hey, once Stella is married off, will you put my name on your sign, Heather?” Kayla asked.
Nancy sighed. Out of the mouths of babes and a twenty-year-old manicurist with a tat and flapping earrings came the kernel of the matter. She longed to rush back down to Stella’s and tell her all about what was really happening, but she had to make this all right before she did a damn thing.
You should have remembered that Heather was president of the Prayer Angels, and that she had control of that damned sign. The sassy voice in her head sounded just like Agnes.
Nancy might not be able to tear down the church sign without spending time in jail, but she could do something. As soon as she got out of the chair she would call Agnes Flynn. If anyone in town could put things to rights, it was Agnes. She was eighty years old and ornery as a rattlesnake, and there wasn’t a person in town who messed with Agnes.
Kayla was saying something else but Nancy didn’t catch it. She tuned in to the conversation in time to hear Heather’s voice raise an octave higher when she said, “I can take my business somewhere else if you’re going to make fun of my ministry.”
“I’m so sorry. I did not mean to offend.” Kayla’s voice said one thing but the tone said the exact opposite.
“You are forgiven. Now let’s talk about that gold fingernail you fixed for my precious aunt Violet?”
Kayla nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I want one. The ark of the covenant was covered with gold. It will be my sign and a pledge of my vow to God that I will not stop praying until Stella is married,” she said.
Or until she is run plumb out of town, Nancy thought.
“Which finger? They are expensive, but I’ve got them in all sizes,” Kayla said.
“I think for this time my pinky finger will do fine. When we start charging for our marriage ministry services, I will get a bigger one. Don’t you worry, Miz Nancy, I have faith.” Heather raised the hand with five red nails toward the ceiling. “The Lord is with the Angels.”
Nancy could not leave with half her hair cut and the other part still shaggy and she couldn’t rip all those red fingernails from Heather’s hand, but she could sure make a phone call to Agnes. Heather was not running Stella out of Cadillac, not on Nancy’s watch.
“Y’all have to promise me that you won’t give one of those haircut money orders to Brother Jed. Everett cusses worse than a drunk, horny sailor on a good day. If he’s mad, his cussin’ will blister the paint right off of walls. I’d just die if y’all gave a voucher to Brother Jed and Stella fell for him. A preacher would never come around our place. I want my new son-in-law to be part of the family, and besides, Stella cusses as bad as her daddy,” Nancy said.
Heather clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, eyes glaring at Nancy as if she were an errant child, and pointed one finger her way. “If Brother Jed fell for Stella, he’d be marryin’ Stella, not Everett. But why are you frettin’? He’s a man of God. He wouldn’t fall for the likes of Stella even if she does play the church piano,” Heather said bluntly. “I don’t know why they ever let her have that job knowing that she cusses as bad as her daddy and drinks so much.”
“My child,” Nancy said through clenched teeth, “might cuss, and a beer on Saturday night does not make her a drunk.”
Floy spoke up from the corner. “And the new son-in-law, whoever he is, and Nancy have to have a good relationship or he won’t let her babysit the grandbaby when it gets here. If he can’t go to her house because of the cussin’ that Everett does, I don’t see him letting her keep his child. But I agree, Heather, we can’t slight the preacher. We’ll give him a free haircut with the knowledge that God will protect him.
”
“I vote that Rhett gets one, too. God can always turn his life around just like he’s going to do Stella’s.” Heather turned the conversation back around to the bake sale. “Now let’s decide who is making what for the biggest bake sale Cadillac has ever seen.”
Stella liked Agnes Flynn. She really did. On any other day she’d be happy to see the old girl and listen to her colorful stories, but not that day. But there was Agnes pushing her way into the Yellow Rose—red hair, bibbed overalls, flip-flops smacking on the tile floor until she stopped and stood under the air-conditioning vent for a minute before she sat down in Piper’s chair.
“I need a little color applied to the roots. This short hair is a hell of a lot easier to take care of, but I have to get y’all to touch up the roots twice as often and that’s a real bitch. But before you put me in the shampoo chair, I heard that Nancy is down at Ruby’s with Heather, Floy, and Beulah. And they are plotting against Stella.”
Stella dropped the broom she was using to sweep up hair. “Well, shit!”
“That’s exactly what I thought, but don’t worry. I’ve got a connection who feeds me information and here in a few minutes we’ll know the rest of what they’ve got up their sleeves. Who are you knitting that baby blanket for, Charlotte? Is that why Stella needs a husband?” Agnes asked.
“I hope not,” Charlotte said. “It’s for your niece, Cathy. I wanted to make it pink, but Cathy is doing the nursery in yellow checks. I’m going to add a border of pink and then make little booties, a sweater, and a hat to go with it.”
“Why would you tell me what your connection says?” Stella asked.
“Because I can’t stand Violet Prescott, and she is Heather’s aunt, so she’ll be all up in the middle of this soon as she hears. And whatever she’s working for, then by damn, I’ll be working against. Besides, I figure we got to get you off that prayer list or else they won’t pray for me if I get cancer,” Agnes told her.
The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop Page 3
