by Debby Mayne
“Tim, you have such a logical mind, but this is different. So tell me what’s going on with your uncle.”
Once again, he laughs, snorting this time. “He just wants to go fishin’, and I’m the most convenient person to bring up here, since I’m not tied down with a wife and kids.” I detect a note of sadness in his voice. He clears his throat. “Back to this Beth Fay woman. When she came up to us in that restaurant, I didn’t get that sick feelin’ in my gut like I did when I met Maurice. I mean, I don’t think she’s out to hurt you. She’s just tryin’ to make it in this world, and she saw an opportunity.”
“I hope she’s not so opportunistic that she’d try to hurt me.”
“I don’t think she’d try to hurt you. Besides, you already know what she’s capable of doing, so you can watch her like a hawk. You might even wanna offer her a bonus for some extra publicity. She’s already told you she needs the extra money, and that’ll be cheaper than hirin’ a real publicist.”
“Thanks, Tim. I’ll call the woman back and see if she’s agreeable to going through a temp agency.”
“Tell her Brad said hey.”
I place a call to my favorite temp agency to ask how to proceed. In the past, when Mandy and I have needed temp workers, we’ve called the agency, and they’ve found the candidates. This is the first time I’ve sent people to them.
After they explain all the steps, I take a deep breath and punch in Beth Fay’s number. She seems shocked that I bothered to call back. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Slater. I don’t know what I was thinking. That’s really not like me, and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you—”
“Before you get too carried away apologizing, hear me out.”
I explain that I want to hire her through a temp agency to see how things go. Every once in a while, she asks a question, like if there’s a chance she’ll be hired permanently or if there will be benefits because the ones through the temp agency aren’t as good as the ones we have here. I tell her I can’t make any promises.
“So you want me to just pick up and move without anything solid?”
I wonder if I’ve just made a huge mistake offering her this job. “You don’t have to move, Beth Fay. I’ll need you to travel, starting with a week here in my Jackson office. I’ll cover all your expenses while you’re here.”
“In that case, I might consider it.”
Odd comment coming from this woman. “I want you to spend some time learning about the company before we proceed, so it’s pretty important. My assistant, Mandy, will work with you.”
Beth Fay asks a few questions, and then there’s silence. It’s time to pop the question. “Well, are you interested in moving forward?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she blurts, “Yes. When can I start?”
I give her the step-by-step instructions from the temp agency. “After you get everything squared away with them, they’ll call me, and we’ll proceed from there.”
About thirty seconds after we hang up, Mandy appears at my door grinning. “So you’re hiring the stalker, huh?”
“Looks like I am. I hope I’m not taking on a problem.”
“What’s the worst that can happen? You’re bringing a stalker onboard so you can keep an eye on her, and in the meantime, you’ll get some work out of her.”
“That’s pretty much what Tim said. Did you remember what you wanted to discuss with me?”
“Yes, but this might not be a good time.”
I fold my arms and lean against her desk. “Spit it out, Mandy.”
“Well, you know how much you’ve been gone and all, leaving me with all this work. It’s not that I don’t like my job or anything, but—”
“Would you like a raise?” I look her in the eye.
Her lips twitch, and she nods. “Yes.”
“Okay, you’ve got it.”
A look of surprise flashes across her face, and she starts to jump up. I know she’s coming in for a hug, but I’m really not in the mood, so I take a step back and smile. “I’ll make sure it’s in your next paycheck.”
She sits back down in her chair, still smiling. “Thanks, Priscilla. You don’t know how much—”
I hold up my hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
At the end of the day, I hear back from the temp agency letting me know they’ve got Beth Fay Swanson on their payroll, and they’re assigning her to me. And she’s starting the following Monday.
11
Tim
Priscilla not only looks hot but is also the sweetest woman I ever had the pleasure of bein’ around. Who else do I know would hire someone who took her picture and sold it to some scandal rag? I understand why Beth Fay done what she did—desperation makes folks do all kinds of things—but most people in Priscilla’s position woulda threatened a lawsuit, turned, and run. Priscilla don’t just look at what a person does. She gets right to the heart of things.
It’s early Monday mornin’, and I’m flyin’ back down to Mississippi to talk to my landlord about cuttin’ my lease short. I doubt he’ll do that, but it’s worth a try. Uncle Hugh is so eager to get down to Vancleave so he can relax that he wants me trained to take over the company within a week or two after Priscilla’s reunion. Uncle Hugh and Aunt Tammy said I could stay in their house that they aren’t willin’ to give up just yet. I never had a whole, big ol’ honkin’ house to myself before, so I’ll prob’ly enjoy it for a while, ’til the newness wears off.
At least Uncle Hugh’s not askin’ me not to go to the reunion, ’cause that would be a deal-breaker. I’m not about to let my favorite girl down, even if she’s not as smitten as I am. Or was. I’ve been tryin’ to move on and set my sights on someone else since Priscilla has made it very clear we’re not meant to be together. She never led me on, but until her high school crush Maurice came up to her and got her head spinnin’ with empty promises, I had hoped she might eventually see me as husband —or at least boyfriend—material. When I seen how fast she took off after him, I knew that was just false hope.
I’m not a bad-lookin’ guy, and I’m real clean on account of I hafta be for my job in the beauty business. Last thing I do every mornin’ before I head out the door is check to make sure my fingernails is clean. And I don’t have a lack of women in my path ’cause that’s mostly who I talk to when I try to sell ’em products from Uncle Hugh’s company. Priscilla tells me I’m successful ’cause I have that little-boy charm so many girls think is attractive. I think it’s the self-made dimple in my left cheek. That happened when I fell on Mama’s rake. The doctor made stitches that he said would be nearly invisible, except when I smile. And I smile a lot ’cause it shows my dimple, and a salesman’s gotta do whatever it takes to get results.
After my plane lands, I call Priscilla to let her know I’m back in town. I’d like to see how she and that Beth Fay woman are gettin’ along. The very thought of the gall it took to hit Priscilla up for a job after what she done, sellin’ that story to the tabloid, is so far beyond anything I ever seen; I know she’s perfect to work for Priscilla. I just hope this don’t give other folks ideas. I’ll have to talk to Priscilla about that.
She don’t answer her cell phone, so I call the office. Mandy’s latest assistant answers the phone. “Is Priscilla in the office?”
“Hold please.” She clicks the Hold button before I tell her who’s calling. It’s always easy to tell who’s been trained and who’s brand-new in that office ’cause once someone’s been there a while, they learn how to make small talk. Priscilla insists on having a friendly atmosphere.
“Priscilla Slater. May I help you?”
I feel my dimple deepen as I grin. “You sound so professional. So how’s the new girl workin’ out?”
“Oh, hi, Tim. If you’re talking about Beth Fay, she just started, and Mandy’s training her. In fact, I think she answered the phone.”
That explains a lot. “I just got back to Jackson. Mind if I stop by later?”
“Sure, how about lunch? I�
�m treating Mandy and Beth Fay, and I’d love to have you join us.”
“Can’t think of nothin’ I’d like better than to have lunch with three beautiful women.”
Priscilla lets loose with one of her belly laughs that still sends electricity throughout my body. And I’m talkin’ set-the-house-on-fire electric sparks. “You’re such a salesman, Tim.”
“Want me to come by the office or meet y’all somewhere?”
“Hold on a sec.” Priscilla puts me on hold and comes back in half a minute. “How about meeting us at the Natural Blossom?”
“That place don’t serve meat.” I’ve never been there before, but I drove by a coupla times, and between the pink awning and fancy writin’ on the window, I can tell it’s a girl-food place.
“Mandy’s on one of her diets.”
“In that case, sure, I’ll meet you there, but don’t get all bent outta shape if I don’t eat nothin’. They do have sweet tea, don’t they?”
“Um . . . I’m not sure.”
What kinda place don’t have meat or sweet tea? I wonder how they can even stay in business in Mississippi. I mean, this ain’t New York or San Francisco, where folks suffer through cardboard meals and pretend they’re satisfied.
I pile all my paperwork in the corner of my home office and plop a book down on top of it to keep it in place. You’d think with computers bein’ in charge of business, folks wouldn’t waste so much paper. But naw, that’s not the case in the beauty business. I reckon they’re so busy learnin’ new ways to do hair a lot of ’em haven’t gotten past learnin’ how to send e-mail. I’m not talkin ’bout Priscilla, but she leaves all the orderin’ up to her salon managers. Out of the hundred or so salons, only about a dozen of them send their orders online. Maybe one of these days I can change that, but right now I have to psych myself up for hangin’ out with three women at a granola-girl restaurant. I shudder at the mere thought of all that healthy food sittin’ lifelessly on that plate in front of me.
As soon as I swing my car into the parkin’ lot, I spot that woman we seen in New York standin’ by the door of Priscilla’s car, lookin’ like she don’t know what hit her. She glances up, and I can tell the moment she recognizes me by the look of pure panic in her eyes.
Priscilla says somethin’ to Mandy, looks at the stalker, and then turns to face me. She waves and motions for me to park alongside her car.
When I get out, I walk toward the stalker with my hand out, hopin’ to make her relax. But she don’t. She just backs away and looks over her shoulder at Priscilla, who nods.
“Mr. Puckett, I’m so sorry about what happened . . . what I did—”
“Well, you’re a lucky girl,” I say, interrupting her. “You got a job with the best boss in the South outta the deal.”
Priscilla steps between me and the stalker. I remember her a little different, though. Looks like she cut her shoulder-length hair, and now it’s in one of them bobs. “Tim, this is Beth Fay Swanson, and she’ll be working with me over the next few months.”
I reckon it’s time to stop thinkin’ of her as the stalker since I’ll prob’ly have to deal with her. “Nice meetin’ you, Beth Fay.”
Mandy looks amused, and I’m sure she is. She’s always enjoyed drama, and even though there’s no screamin’ or yellin’ goin’ on, there’s plenty of silent drama to keep her entertained.
As soon as we walk into the restaurant, some woman with unnatural lookin’ black hair, a fluffy almost-white top that looks like it’s been dipped in tea, a long skirt that looks too big for her, and some ugly old brown sandals greets us. She’s not wearin’ a drop of makeup, but at least she seems happy if her grin is any indication.
“Follow me.” She turns and walks toward the back of the restaurant, stops, and gestures toward a table. “Will this be okay?”
“Perfect.” Priscilla winks at me as I hold her chair.
I try to get around to hold all the ladies’ chairs, but the stal—um . . . Beth Fay and Mandy are already sittin’ by the time I get to ’em. The black-haired woman remains standing by the table until we’re all in our seats.
“We run a green restaurant, so we don’t have menus. Instead, we have everything noted up there.” She points to a wall with all sorts of things like whole-grain pizza with soy-based toppings and veggie shreds, vegan-rella sandwiches, and sprout salads. And the prices next to ’em? Boy howdy, you’d think they used the finest beef that ever walked based on how much stuff costs.
“Do you have anything good?” I ask.
She smiles down at me like she has practice humoring real meat-eatin’ men before. “It’s all delicious. If you like south-of-the-border flavors, I’d like to recommend our veggie tacos. That’s what most . . . nonvegan people seem to enjoy.”
I don’t see that I have much choice, so I nod. “Sounds good. Bring it on.”
Priscilla says she’ll have the same, and Beth Fay nods her agreement as well. Mandy, who obviously knows the routine here, asks for somethin’ in what sounds like a completely different language.
“And to drink?” Again, the woman’s amused expression is focused on me.
“Sweet tea.” I lean back, fold my arms, and silently dare her to tell me they don’t carry the southern staple.
She nods and turns to the ladies who all give her their drink order. “I’ll have your server bring your drinks right away.”
After the black-haired lady leaves, Mandy starts talkin’. “I’m not only eating vegan these days. I’m into raw foods.”
Mandy is always into somethin’ different, so I don’t even bother askin’ questions, even though I have no idea what she’s talkin’ about. I figure the wind’ll blow in even more change by next time I see her, and it’ll all be for naught.
A younger woman with wavy red hair, blue jeans, and a faded blue T-shirt brings us our drinks. She sets a glass filled with pale greenish-yellow liquid down in front of me. I push it toward her. “I ordered sweet tea.”
“This is sweet tea. It’s the finest organic green tea we can find, and it’s sweetened with agave nectar.” Her smile is almost an exact replica of the black-haired woman’s, and it unnerves me. Why did I agree to come to this crazy place?
I start to say somethin’, but I see Priscilla starin’ at me, so I face her. She winks, letting me know she understands.
Me and Priscilla both start to lift our glasses to take swigs of our drinks, when stalker-lady pipes up. “Ms. Slater, I thought you were a Christian.”
Priscilla sets her glass down on the table and gives Beth Fay a curious look. “I am.”
“Don’t you say the blessing before you start your meals?”
Now don’t that beat all—the stalker callin’ out her boss on blessin’ our meal. I’m not so sure what we got to bless at this place, but Priscilla tightens her lips and nods before closing her eyes. I don’t believe I ever seen no one unnerve my favorite girl before.
12
Priscilla
After work I drive home still in a daze from the day spent with Beth Fay Swanson. She’s not terrible, but she does create tension. Fortunately, she seems to amuse Mandy, so at least I don’t have to worry about upsetting the rest of my staff. Mandy hovers over her like a vulture, making sure she says the right things on the phone and understands our system. I’ve asked Mandy to train her on some of the finer points so she’ll know what to do when we travel together. The mere thought of that sends a shiver of regret down my spine.
I get to my townhouse and head straight to the kitchen, where I down a glass of water and grab a box of melt-in-your-mouth butter crackers. Lunch today was interesting but not very filling, so I’ve been starving all afternoon. No wonder Mandy’s getting so skinny.
Before I have a chance to open my laptop, my cell phone rings. I look at caller ID and see that it’s coming from the office. Lord, please don’t let there be another problem with Beth Fay.
“Hey, Priscilla. That new girl’s a trip, isn’t she?”
I laugh. �
��I guess that’s one way of putting it.”
“She’s actually okay, once you get past her nervousness. I can sorta see myself in her . . . but just a little bit. She’s feeling the same way I did when I first started.”
“But you didn’t sell my story to the tabloids.”
“I thought you might still be thinking about that. Priscilla, you really need to let go of that issue, or you’ll never be able to work with Beth Fay. I think she feels really bad about calling that reporter, but look at it from her perspective.”
“She needed money.” I clear my throat and add, “And she wanted her ten minutes of fame?”
“Oh, trust me, she didn’t even think of fame. Her mortgage was a month overdue, and she has to come up with the money to buy her son’s books for college this fall. People do all kinds of things when they’re desperate, and the opportunity was right there under her nose. I don’t think she would’ve done that under normal conditions.” She clears her throat. “She’s also a committed Christian, which is ramping up her guilt and making her act a little odd at times.”
Since when did Mandy start caring enough about other people to see all this? “You learned all this about her today?”
“Yes, I did, and you would’ve too if you’d spent more time with her.”
Now I’m the one feeling the guilt. “I’ll have to correct that tomorrow.”
“Actually, tomorrow is what I’m calling about. Sheila just called and asked if you could go to the Piney Point salon to approve some construction details on the addition.”
“I’ll be there in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s a problem because the construction company you wanna go with is booked tight. They just had a cancellation, so they were able to work you in this week.”
“Oh.” Piney Point is a solid two-hour drive, and I already have enough to keep me busy before I go for the reunion. “Can’t they fax or e-mail me the plans?”
“She wants you there to talk to the contractor.”
