The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop

by Carolyn Brown

  “And ice cream, too?” Luke asked.

  “And can Rhett come? I like him a lot,” Tanner said.

  “Yes, to all of it,” Stella said. “Now let’s get you out to the truck. Your daddy can carry the bags and you can hold your mama’s hands.”

  Piper kept a stiff upper lip as she walked Luke and Tanner out to Gene’s truck, strapped them into the backseat, and kissed both on the forehead. “Y’all mind your grandma and call me. She has my cell phone number and the shop number, so I’m just a phone call away. And have fun. Remember your manners and brush your teeth after you eat.”

  “Grandma tells us all that.” Luke laughed.

  She waved until they were out of sight.

  “You going to make it?” Stella asked from the porch.

  “Yes, I am. This is just an ordinary day and I’m going to pretend that was Lorene who drove off with them. I’m going to wash down my whole kitchen with bleach and then I’m going to change the locks on all my doors. Thank you both.”

  “Hey, I agree, it was a brussels-sprouts day.” Charlotte looped her arm into Piper’s. “But the rest of it is going to be good. I feel it in my bones.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nancy came through the door of the shop like a whirlwind, talking as she made her way to the sofa and plopped down. “What is this I hear about Gene driving away from your house with your boys this morning? It’s Tuesday, for God’s sake, not Friday, so what right does he have to Luke and Tanner? Piper, you look like warmed-over sin on Sunday morning. Talk to me.”

  Piper stretched her long legs out in front of her. “He came into my house, in my kitchen, and woke the kids up. I didn’t know he was there until I woke up.”

  “How did he get inside?”

  “He has a key. I’m changing the locks later today,” Piper answered and went on to tell the rest of the story, including the brussels-sprouts part.

  “Know what Stella told him?” Charlotte asked.

  “That she was going to cut him up into pieces for fish bait?” Nancy answered.

  Stella groaned. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Takes age to perfect the meanness.” Nancy’s smile got wider. “What did you tell him?”

  “She whispered in his ear that there would only be two times that hell would be shut down, the day Agnes Flynn dies and the day she dies. It will be closed for three days while the devil talks God into letting them into heaven because they are both too mean to have a place in hell,” Charlotte said.

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that, and I didn’t say it just like that,” Stella whispered.

  Nancy cackled. “I don’t care how you said it, I’m using that line on Heather next chance that I get. When she tells me to go to hell, I’m tellin’ her that the devil won’t have me but he’s still got hopes for her sorry old hide.”

  “Mama, you remind me of Ouiser in Steel Magnolias talkin’ like that.” Stella steered the subject away from Gene and the twins.

  Piper mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “I liked that movie so much that I bought it and watched it a dozen times in a week.” Nancy laughed.

  “Changing the subject here. We’ve had all of that sorry bastard Gene that we can stomach for one day. What’s going on with the barbecue ball?” Charlotte asked.

  “It’s comin’ right along. We’ve got to go to Violet’s this week to check out the barn and make suggestions about how to decorate it. It’s a barn”—she raised her voice and flapped her hands around—“it ain’t goin’ to change into a castle just because Heather points that ridiculous gold fingernail at the walls. If me and your dad weren’t doin’ the cookin’, I wouldn’t go out there.”

  Piper’s first client arrived, so she got up and headed toward her station. She was glad it was Tuesday. Good hard work among good solid friends who dropped everything and ran to her side would keep her mind off that son of a bitch.

  “How you doin’, Carlene?” she asked.

  “I’m doin’ great, but my hair looks like crap and the church over in Luella is giving Alma Grace a wedding shower tonight and I want it to look nice. So give me the works.”

  “When is the shower here in Cadillac?” Stella asked.

  “Next Sunday afternoon. Aunt Tansy is having it out at her place. Y’all will get your invitations in the mail today, I’m sure. I hear they’re having some kind of praying deal at the church all afternoon. Is it at the same time as the shower?” Carlene asked.

  Stella nodded. “The prayerathon will be all afternoon and I doubt that any of us will go to it. We’ll all be at the shower. Is Alma Grace getting the jitters yet? I can’t believe we’re having so many weddings before Christmas.”

  “Oh, yes, she’s getting the jitters. Everyone I talk to says it’s normal. Hey, is Agnes going to be able to come to that ball they’re all planning? I heard she’s doing real good since the surgery, but hips do take a while on the elderly folks,” Carlene asked.

  “I dropped in to see her early this morning and she says she’ll go if she has to use a wheelchair and that she’s wearing her overalls,” Nancy said.

  “Hey, I just got an idea,” Carlene said. “I’m going to talk to Marty and have her bring a pair of overalls to Bless My Bloomers. We will fancy them all up and Agnes will love them. She’ll put enough bling on them to make everyone at the rehab place jealous.”

  Nancy clapped her hands. “I love it. That’ll cheer Agnes right up. Lord, she’ll act like Elvis Presley. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she doesn’t practice a lopsided grin in front of the mirrors.”

  Stella popped a hip out, snarled one side of her nose, and said, “Thank you very much, Carlene.”

  Piper laughed so hard that she dropped the hairbrush. “You sounded just like her and it wasn’t a bad impression of Elvis, either, especially if he had red hair. Maybe Carlene ought to make you some overalls to wear to the ball.”

  Stella smiled. It would be good enough for Heather if she showed up at the ball in overalls, but she wanted to look beautiful for Jed, maybe in something like ivory lace.

  Nancy started for the door. “Stella is not wearing overalls to the ball, not if I have anything to say about it. I’ll see you girls later. I’ve got to make a run to Sherman for cattle feed.”

  “We’ll be right here if you’ve got time to run back by.” Piper nodded.

  Carlene reached out and touched Piper on the arm. “Honey, I heard about Gene takin’ your boys for two weeks and how he did it. Alma Grace will be all for putting your name on the prayer list right along with Stella’s.”

  “I’ll dye her hair purple and give her a spike hairdo if she does,” Piper declared.

  Carlene slapped a hand over her mouth. “I would love to see that.”

  “I wish you would put her name on the list. It’s lonely at the top,” Stella said.

  Charlotte shook a comb in their direction. “Hey, I heard about Alma Grace’s prayers. Y’all might want to reconsider. I heard that she flat-out put one on Kitty Lovelle last year when she prayed for her.”

  “Yep, that woman can sure do up a prayer right. She asked God to do everything but strike Kitty dead as a roadkill possum.” Carlene grinned.

  “I may ask her to pray for Gene,” Charlotte said.

  “Or for Heather,” Stella said.

  Carlene lowered her voice. “Well, truth is, not even Alma Grace can stand Heather. She’s a self-righteous gold digger, according to my cousin.”

  “Join the club. If she keeps putting down Cadillac and calling it names, she’s not going to have a single friend in town other than her aunt Violet and maybe Annabel,” Stella said.

  “I know she hates you, Stella. What happened?” Carlene asked.

  “She declared war on me when I wouldn’t join every organization she’s invented,” Stella said. “She’s moved in here and thinks she
can change everything about the town, and we love it just the way it is.”

  “You do know the whole town is watching you. I heard that Violet has hired a private detective to tail you so that she’ll know who your boyfriend is before Agnes finds out and he’s been told to bring his reports to the hospital,” Carlene said.

  Stella groaned.

  Carlene laughed. “Maybe we should dye your hair and give you a spike hairdo. The PI wouldn’t recognize you that way.”

  “It’s a thought. Know where I could buy a couple of bozo wigs?” Stella asked.

  Piper worked the lather into Carlene’s curly blonde hair and let her mind wander as the girls talked about ways to avoid detection. Stella’s first appointment of the day arrived and the talk again veered over to Alma Grace’s wedding shower planned for Sunday. Then Charlotte’s client Rosalee, an elderly lady who had moved from a farm into town when her husband died, turned the talk to her garden and canning tomatoes.

  “I’ve got some peppers coming off,” she said, “but they won’t never be as hot as what Claudia Andrews grew up there beside where Clawdy’s is now. That woman had a secret with jalapeños that made them almost as hot as a habanero. I’d just love to know what it was, but she’s passed on and Cathy said that the seeds she saves from them are still hot but she has no idea how her mother and grandmother put the fire in them to begin with.”

  At least they weren’t talking about Gene anymore. Piper would rather hear talk about Rhett—she let his name stick in her head and didn’t try to kick it out. She glanced at her appointment book as she put the finishing touches on Carlene’s hair. She had a fifteen-minute break. That would give her enough time to sneak to the back room and forage for something to eat. There was no way that she would have touched one of Gene’s pancakes that morning and now that the jitters had passed, she was starving.

  “I love it, Piper.” Carlene smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself. I’ll expect to see you at the shower on Sunday?”

  “Of course, but let’s get something straight. This is a wedding shower, not a bridal shower, right?” Piper asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Rosalee raised a hand out from under her cape. “What’s the difference?”

  “A wedding shower is where we take things like sheets, towels, blenders, and food processors. A bridal shower is where we take sexy underbritches and see-through nighties from down at Bless My Bloomers,” Stella said.

  “I’m glad that it’s a wedding shower, since I bought a set of sheets. Do they really take sexy things to showers for brides these days?” Rosalee asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, and they buy a lot of it at Bless My Bloomers,” Carlene said. “What did they bring to your shower when you got married?”

  “Brooms, mops, towels, and sheets. My mama gave me a high-necked flannel gown that buttoned all the way to the top, but she didn’t give it to me right out in public. It was better than something skimpy, let me tell you.”

  “Why?” Stella asked.

  “Honey, a man likes to unwrap pretty presents. It’s your job to rope the present down real tight to give him a challenge. It turns them on a lot more than a scanty-wrapped present, believe me. I’m speaking from experience, so if some of us old dinosaurs bring high-necked nightgowns to your bridal shower, we know what we are doing.”

  “I’m not having a bridal shower,” Stella said.

  Carlene nodded seriously. “But I am, and thank you for that advice.”

  Nancy pushed through the door, threw herself on the sofa, and waved at Rosalee. “How’s your garden? Got any tomatoes left or has the heat done burned them all up?”

  “I’m pampering them, so they’re coming out my ears. Did you know that Violet started a fuss about backyard gardens at the chamber of commerce meeting last week? Someone said it wasn’t in the chamber’s business to worry with the physical beauty of the town, so she said she’d go to the city council meeting next month. She says they’re a terrible blight on the town. Truth is I’m glad that she’s laid up and won’t be at the meeting. I hope she forgets all about it and it don’t come up again,” Rosalee said.

  Nancy shook her head from side to side. “She’s about to cut off her nose to spite her face. Cathy grows her peppers right out beside Clawdy’s and those are what won all those ribbons and what make the festival such a big thing. If she says no one can grow vegetables in their yards, then Cathy won’t be able to grow her peppers.”

  “You might tell her that. I didn’t mind leaving all the work of a full-fledged farm, but I’d sure hate to give up my garden,” Rosalee said.

  “I will when I get the chance. Oh, I got news.”

  “About?” Rosalee asked.

  Nancy sat up straighter. “Beulah called and said that Heather has been working on more rules. But anyway, the big news is that it’s now been written in stone that the women have to wear a dress and the gents—that’s Heather’s words, not mine—have to wear a jacket and a tie. They were going to make it black-tie and the men would have to wear tuxes, but we managed to get that overturned in the last meeting. The one that Heather called this morning put the rules down as gospel.”

  Piper stopped at door into the storeroom. “So no overalls for Stella?”

  Rosalee’s laughter filled the whole shop and bounced off the walls like a sugared-up six-year-old who’d just spent the day with her grandparents. “I’ve got a pair of overalls. I think I’ll take them down to Bless My Bloomers and get her to make me a ball gown out of them. She could cut the legs off and sew a skirt tail on them, put all them shiny stones on them like she’s doing Agnes’s overalls, and it would be a fancy dress, right? I hadn’t planned on going, but y’all done got me excited about it. Heather didn’t make a rule about nobody over fifty not being able to go, did she?”

  “Hell, no!” Nancy said. “Just call Carlene and tell her what you want. Maybe you ought to have her stick a label on the bib pocket that says Bless My Bloomers so everyone can see where you got your custom-made ball gown. Kind of like them fancy labels that the hoity-toity folks like to show off.”

  Piper could have kissed Rosalee and Nancy. They’d taken her mind off her troubles and given her something to laugh about.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The temperature gauge on the dash of Nancy’s truck said that it was a hundred and one degrees, but until the air-conditioning kicked in, it felt like six degrees hotter than hell’s furnace. She’d barely cooled down when she parked in front of Violet’s house that Friday afternoon, quickly crossed the well-manicured lawn, and rang the doorbell.

  Two weeks and the whole damn thing would be over. Well, two weeks and a day, since the ball was planned for the last Saturday in the month.

  With eagle eyes, Heather scanned her from toes to head before she stepped aside and said, “Come in, Nancy. You are the last one. We went ahead and started the meeting without you but we’ve only had time to discuss one thing and we’ll fill you in.”

  Nancy felt like a kid on the way to the principal’s office as she followed Heather down the short foyer and into the den. She’d worn her best slacks and ironed her shirt. Maybe the fact that it was sleeveless didn’t set well with Heather, who was dressed in a pink suit with short sleeves, a silk shell under it, and high-heeled shoes. And holy shit, the woman was wearing hose on a hot summer day.

  Heather took her place behind her aunt’s massive desk, shuffled some papers, and motioned for Nancy to sit beside Floy on the sofa. “I was just telling Nancy that we discussed the mode of dress that will be acceptable to the barbecue ball. At our last meeting, we had voted that the gents must wear a coat and tie and the ladies have to wear a dress, and it was in the minutes for old business. Today we’ll talk about new business.”

  “Coat and tie. They’ll suffocate,” Nancy gasped.

  “We have ordered several commercial-size portable refrigerated air conditioners to kee
p things cool.” Heather did a little huff that said she didn’t really appreciate Nancy’s comments.

  “Do all the dresses have to be white?” Nancy asked.

  Annabel looked up from a chair right in front of the desk and frowned at her. “This is not a debutante ball but the first annual Yellow Rose Barbecue Ball. Heather has decided that we will use pastel blue, pink, and yellow for our colors. Yellow for the idea of the roses, blue since the Blue Ribbon Jalapeño Society is helping us out, and pink because it’s the signature color for the marriage ministry. I do believe that you already knew that, Nancy.”

  “I suppose you’re going to change the name of the Angels to the Yellow Rose Prayer Ladies?” Nancy wondered how that thought had gone from her mind to right out in the room for everyone to hear, but once it was out there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  “Of course not. I wish we would have given our ball a name other than the Yellow Rose, but since it is a popular Texas song and since this all started to find a husband for your daughter, it seemed appropriate.” Heather inhaled and let it out slowly. “And to answer your question, the ladies can wear whatever style dress they want in whatever color they wish. Hopefully the Angels will try to find something suitable in yellow. I have chosen a pink dress screen printed with Texas bluebells on the silk. The fabric and pattern is at my seamstress’s place of business even as we speak and”—she paused for effect—“I shall save each of my gowns from all the balls we’ll have through the years so that when my ministry is really big they can be auctioned off to make money for more elaborate balls in the future. I foresee a huge ballroom on the ground floor of a gorgeous hotel in Cadillac within the next ten years.”

  Shit! What had Heather been smoking right before the meeting? They’d be lucky if one or two of the boarded-up buildings on Main Street had new life in them in the next ten years.

  “So the color scheme is now formally decided?” Floy asked.

  Heather put a finger next to her lips. “I think so. No, I know so. And for everyone’s information here, I want to tell you that Aunt Violet is doing very well after her surgery and that any mention of dementia is just gossip. Now that rumor is buried, we will go on. Annabel, will you please be in charge of the petits fours we will serve for dessert at the ball?”