by Debby Mayne
“I’m at the hospital. They’re tryin’ to save her right now.”
“I’ll be right there.” I holler for Bonnie Sue to come down.
She appears at the top of the stairs, takes one look at my face, and gasps. “What happened?”
“I don’t know yet. That was Randy callin’ from the hospital. Somethin’ awful has happened to your grandma.” I turn and start toward the kitchen before I remember my pocketbook is upstairs in my room. “Bonnie Sue, fetch my pocketbook and bring it down here, will ya?”
She doesn’t waste another minute before doing as I say, but when she hands me my bag, she tips her head. “What about supper?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Fix it yourself, Miss Smarty-Pants. I’m leavin’ now.” And then I turn and make good on my word.
As I back out of the driveway, I punch Randy’s number on my cell phone, but he doesn’t answer. All kinds of scenarios play out in my mind, and by the time I get to the hospital parking lot, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m about to be an orphan. Daddy passed away two years ago, and I’m still convinced his retired ROTC wife is responsible, but I have no proof. It’s just that whenever I was with them, somethin’ didn’t seem right. And she didn’t even cry a single tear at his funeral.
I park as close as I can to the emergency room entrance. Randy is standin’ outside under the awning waitin’ for me, his eyes rimmed in red, his skin looking all gaunt and sickly.
“Where’s Mama?”
He points his thumb over his shoulder. “She had a heart attack, Laura. A real bad one.”
I might not know much about medicine, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a heart attack that wasn’t bad. “Will she be okay?”
“I don’t know . . . wasn’t sure at first, but now . . . ” He slowly shakes his head. “We was just sittin’ there watchin’ our shows on TV, and she started shakin’ and sweatin’ all over. I thought she was laughin’ ’til I took a good look at her face. Laura, it was the scariest thing I ever seen.”
I hold up my hand to stop him and save myself from hearing the gory details of Mama’s heart attack. “Let’s go inside and see about her, okay?”
He nods. With shaky motions, I put my arm around his scrawny shoulders and lead him back inside. Somewhere along the way, Randy “Save-a-Lot” Elmore has become frail. But now, as I see how much he cares about Mama, he also seems like more of a man.
The lady at the desk sees us and holds up a finger. “The doctor was looking for you, Mr. Elmore. Let me get one of the nurses to come get you. Is that your daughter?”
Randy starts to shake his head, but I speak up. “Yes, I’m the daughter.”
Minutes later, Randy and I are following the nurse down the hall and into a small room with a desk and not much else. “Have a seat. The doctor will be right with you.”
“I thought we were gonna see Mama.”
Randy looks at me with sad eyes. “You haven’t never watched those doctor shows on TV, have ya?”
Before I have a chance to answer, a middle-aged man with a tired look in his eyes enters the room and closes the door. The air suddenly seems very still, making my pulse beat faster.
“Mrs. Elmore is a very lucky woman. She suffered a massive heart attack that could have killed her if you hadn’t acted quickly.”
Randy squirms a bit until he’s sitting up a little straighter, while I look at him with more respect than I’ve ever felt for him before. “I don’t wanna lose my wife. Me and her’s soul mates.”
“Is she . . . ” I glance at Randy, then turn to face the doctor. “Will she make it?”
“We’ve got her stabilized, but it’s still too early to tell.” He goes on to tell us about some procedures he needs to perform while Randy and I sit and listen. The more the doctor talks, the more worried I get. Finally, the doctor ends his talk with, “If you don’t have any more questions, I need to get back in there and prep for surgery.”
“Do what you gotta do, Doc,” Randy says. “Just make sure I get my wife back.”
“I’ll do what I can.” The doctor stands to leave but pauses at the door. “You can wait here until you’re ready to go back to the waiting room.”
After he leaves, I turn to Randy. “Thank you so much, Randy.”
He gives me a puzzled look. “For what?”
“For being there for Mama.”
“I love your mama. I know me and you ain’t always been on the best of terms, but I’d do anything for the woman who turned my life around and made it worth livin’.”
Knowing Randy as I do, that’s about the sweetest thing he could have said. I place my hand on his arm. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”
He frowns at me and shakes his head. “I can’t go thinkin’ about food at a time like this, Laura. But if you’re hungry, I understand. Why don’t you go on down to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat?”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll stay with you.”
“They have a snack machine in the waiting room.”
“I’ll just get something there then.”
Four packs of overpriced peanut butter crackers later, I’m sittin’ next to Randy, listening to stories about the things he and Mama like to do together—fish, dance, go antiquing, take long drives, and eat out.
“When do you have time to work?”
“You should know better than that, Laura. I was sittin’ right there next to your mama last year when she told you I done retired.”
“Oh.” I fidget with the hem of my shirt as I think about all that’s been goin’ on in my life, and how I’m always so anxious to get off the phone when Mama calls. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I forgot.”
He offers a slight grin of understanding and pats my arm. “That’s all right, Laura. I understand. You got your hands full with Pete bein’ on the sauce and actin’ like one of the kids.”
“Pete’s been sober for a while now,” I say with satisfaction. “He’s goin’ to AA.” I make a silent vow to stay in better touch with Mama and Randy. They shoulda known Pete wasn’t drinkin’ anymore.
Randy lifts his eyebrows. “Good for him. I told your mama I thought there was a good man in there somewhere.”
I wonder if that’s when Mama started backing off on her rants about how I shouldn’t put up with Pete’s shenanigans. For a while I got daily calls from her tellin’ me I deserve better than that. When she stopped, I was too relieved to find out why I stopped hearing from her. Randy keeps moving up the ladder to my heart.
He points to my pocketbook. “Speakin’ of Pete, why don’t you give him a call and let him know what’s goin’ on? I’m sure him and the kids is worried sick about you.”
3
Tim Puckett
I get to the door of Priscilla’s Jackson corporate office and pause. When Uncle Hugh, who owns the company I work for, made me regional sales manager, he said he wanted me to continue calling on Priscilla’s salons, since they now represent near ’bout half his business and we have a good rapport.
Only problem is I don’t feel like facin’ Mandy after the last time we went out. Me and her was steppin’ out on a regular basis, and she started thinkin’ we was more than just really good friends. I near ’bout fell over when she came right out and proposed. I know it’s wrong, but when I first asked Mandy out on a date, I was hopin’ to make Priscilla jealous. No way did I think Mandy would get all hung up on me and start stalkin’ me the way she did. No matter where I went after hours, if I was in Jackson, I could pretty much count on runnin’ into her. And I have no idea how she can type so fast on her itty-bitty phone keyboard. She can send more text messages in a minute than I can read, and that’s exactly what she did on our dates.
After taking a deep breath, I turn the handle and shove the door open. The receptionist—can’t remember what her name is, but there’s no point since the Cut ’n Curl’s corporate office front desk seems to have a revolvin’ door—smiles at me. “Mandy’s busy, but I’m sure she’
ll wanna see you.”
“No, that’s okay. I just came to pick up the order.”
The girl squirms around, opening and closing drawers, pretending to look for something, before slamming the top drawer shut. “Sorry, but I think Vanessa has it down in the salon. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll call her to come up.”
“That’s not necessary. I can go down there myself.” I pause at the door. “Tell Mandy I said hey and I’m sorry I missed her.”
I’m barely inside the salon when I hear a breathless Mandy behind me. “Hey, Tim.”
I turn around in time to see her straightening her blouse. A trickle of sweat makes its way down her forehead, but she’s givin’ me her desperate smile. I wish I’d insisted on havin’ her e-mail the order in instead of agreein’ to stop by to pick it up.
Just like a superhero come to save the day, Vanessa appears from around the corner. “Hey, Tim. What can I do for you?”
“Get on back to your station, Vanessa,” Mandy orders. “I can talk to Tim.”
Vanessa lifts one eyebrow and looks at me without budging. Ever since Vanessa took over when Rosemary transferred to one of the Raleigh Cut ’n Curls, there’s been a power play between Vanessa and Mandy. Priscilla has always said that Vanessa is in charge at the salon, and Mandy is the business manager, so I feel justified in speakin’ up.
“Sorry, Mandy, but I really need to talk to Vanessa.”
She folds her arms and pouts. “Then why did you come up to the office in the first place?”
“Because that’s what I’ve always done.” I make a mental note to change my habit that started when Priscilla only had three salons, and all orders came through her. Now that she’s turned the company into a major chain, and each salon is thriving, she has the managers ordering for their individual salons. Maybe if I park in the customer parking lot and slip into the salon real nice and quiet, I’ll be able to avoid runnin’ into Mandy.
“Mandy, honey, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than stand down here”—Vanessa walks over to the door, opens it, and turns to face Mandy—“but I appreciate you tryin’ to help.”
I look everywhere but at Mandy. This whole situation is embarrassin’, but I can’t buckle, or I’ll never be able to get away from her.
Once Mandy’s gone, Vanessa turns to me. “What can I do for ya, sweetie?”
Vanessa’s one of them women who calls everyone sweetie or darlin’, so I don’t feel uncomfortable in the least. “I’m here for your order.”
“Let me get it. Want somethin’ cold to drink?”
“What kind a sody pop you got?”
She spouts off a variety of drink flavors, and just when I think she’s done, she mentions my favorite. Cream soda. I smile, and she gives me the thumbs up. “Priscilla told me to always make sure I have cream soda ’cause that’s what you like.”
“Priscilla said that?” I feel warm all the way to my toes just hearin’ that Priscilla thinks enough of me to make sure they keep cream soda in their break-room fridge.
“Yup. And she also said you like peanut-butter crackers but not the orange ones.” She pauses. “Want me to bring you a pack of them too?”
“Sounds good.” I feel like royalty now.
Vanessa comes back with a can of cream soda, a pack of peanut butter malt crackers, and an order as thick as any I ever seen. “We’re out of a lot of stuff,” she says. “Every time Priscilla has a show on TVNS, business picks up like wildfire.”
“I bet folks is hopin’ to catch a glimpse of her,” I say as I pop the top on the can.
“I s’pect you’re right.” Vanessa glances over her shoulder and turns back to me. “I best be gettin’ back to my client’s color job, or her hair might wind up lookin’ like she stuck her finger in a light socket.”
I head out to my car with a briefcase full of an order that’ll bring in enough money to feed a small village, peanut butter cracker crumbs on my lapel, and a half can of sody pop. All the way home, I think about where I am in life and how I got here.
The other salesmen who work for my uncle all wish they could have one client like Priscilla, but I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Some folks call me lucky, but I’m inclined to agree with Priscilla—the Lord had a reason for bringin’ us into each other’s lives. What we disagree on is why. She says she’d never do business with a pushy salesman she can’t trust, and I have the right sales style for her. I think maybe the Lord wants us together as more than hair salon owner and beauty product salesman. Sometimes I think me and her’s on the same page, but then somethin’ happens, like her old boyfriend Maurice showin’ up or some other such thing, and I realize we’re not even lookin’ at the same book.
Years ago, both Mama and Uncle Hugh thought Priscilla might come to her senses, so I should just hang in there. But lately, they’ve been tellin’ me to move on and look for a girl who appreciates what a fine husband I’d make. Mama wants grandbabies. Uncle Hugh just wants me to be happy. I’m not closed to meetin’ some girl and settlin’ down, but only ’cause I haven’t found one yet who makes me tingle all the way to my toenails like Priscilla Slater does.
Shortly after I fax the order to Uncle Hugh’s office, my phone rings. “Good job on the order, Tim.”
“I didn’t do nothin’. Just picked up the order, that’s all. It was already filled out when I got there.”
His voice booms as he laughs. I can picture him leanin’ and tiltin’ his chair on the back two legs, with Aunt Tammy fussin’ and fumin’, sayin’ he’s gonna break the chair and then his hip. “Tim, you and I both know that it took years to establish a relationship with Priscilla, so you did do more than just pick up the order, only not today. And that leads me to the reason for my call. How’d you like to move up to the Big Apple?”
“Huh?”
He laughs again. “Tammy and I have been talkin’ about retiring and moving back to Mississippi to our fishing camp cabin in Vancleave.”
“So what would I do in New York?”
“I need someone to take over the business, and I can’t think of a better person for the job than you.”
Now I’m all choked up. When I try to talk, nothin’ comes out but a squeak.
“I realize I sprung that on you mighty fast. Think about it, Tim. Tammy and I aren’t getting any younger, and we’d like to do it in the next few months. You’d have to come up and learn the business beforehand.”
“I’m honored, Uncle Hugh. When do you wanna know my answer?”
“Take your time. Just tell me what you wanna do in the next week or so.”
“The next week?”
“Yeah. Like I said, take your time. You don’t have to give me your answer right now.”
“Is . . . is this a secret?”
“Not exactly a secret, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell everyone you run into.”
“How about—?”
“Your mama knows, and if you wanna talk to Priscilla, I reckon that’ll be okay ’cause she obviously trusts you as much as I do. And I don’t see her gettin’ all mouthy and blabbing to the world of beauty if you tell her it’s not public knowledge yet.”
After I hang up, I’m still numb with shock. I totally didn’t see this one comin’. Uncle Hugh is still pretty young, but I get that he works hard, and he needs to kick back. The most shocking thing is that he trusts me to run the company he’s been buildin’ ever since he and Aunt Tammy first got married.
I call Mama, and she squeals into the phone before I have a chance to open my mouth. “In spite of the fact he comes from bad blood, your uncle is a smart man.”
Uncle Hugh is my daddy’s brother, and I think he hired me to make up for the fact that my own daddy up and took off not long after I was born. Me and Mama moved into Granny’s house, so I was raised by a couple of doting women. That prepared me for bein’ in the beauty business. I understand and appreciate some of the finer points of females.
“So when will you b
e movin’ up to New York?”
“I haven’t made my decision yet.”
“What?” Her voice screeches. “Don’t you go and be an ingrate. Your uncle is offerin’ you the opportunity to make somethin’ of yourself.”
“Mama, I think I’ve already done that. I’m very happy living in Jackson and doin’ what I do.”
“It’s that Priscilla girl, ain’t it?”
“Well . . . ”
“That’s what I was afraid might happen. Now you listen to me, Timothy Jefferson Puckett. Priscilla has her heart and mind set on one thing, and that’s buildin’ her business empire. You’ve sat around long enough, waitin’ for her to fall in love with you and settle down. I’m already thinkin’ that I won’t never be a granny.”
“Mama—”
“Honey, I don’t wanna put pressure on you, but you sure don’t need to look a gift horse in the mouth. Your uncle is presentin’ you with the opportunity to start fresh in a high-power job that will bring you more money than you’ll ever make in Mississippi.”
“It’s not about the money. You know I’m doin’ just fine where I am.”
“That’s one of your problems, Tim, and as much as I hate to say it, I’m afraid you might get that from your daddy. He was always satisfied with things just the way they was. I used to tell him he needed to always reach for the stars and never be satisfied until he grabs one of ’em.”
“You used to say that to Daddy?”
“Yeah, and he always told me to stop naggin’ him about makin’ more money and gettin’ a bigger job.”
I feel like someone done kicked me in the head. This is the first I ever heard this, and I don’t think I like the sound of it. I always thought he up and left for no reason.
“Mama, I need to go now.”
“At least think about Hugh’s offer. Jobs like this don’t come along every day.”
“I know. And they don’t grow on trees neither.”
“Are you gettin’ smart with me, Tim? ’Cause if you are, you’re never too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap.”
After hangin’ up, I feel like someone done slugged me in the gut. Merely the suggestion of soap brings back the taste of the bath bar she used to shove into my mouth and scrape along the edge of my teeth when I said somethin’ she didn’t like.
