by Debby Mayne
That sounds good to me. “Maybe she’ll stick around long enough for me to get to know her. What do you think about the three of us going out for dinner after work?”
“Great idea. Want me to ask her, or would you rather do it yourself?”
I stand up and back toward the door. “Let me talk to her.”
Blair is on the phone, taking notes when I walk out to the reception area. She glances up at me, smiles, and resumes jotting something down. When she’s finished with the call, she hands me the note. “A new product line from California. Here’s the man’s name and number.”
I stuff the paper into my briefcase and sit in the chair beside her desk. “How would you like to go to dinner with Mandy and me after work?”
Instead of answering immediately, she scrunches up her forehead and rubs her chin. “How long will it take?”
“Oh, do you have to be someplace? We can make it another time if tonight’s not convenient.”
“My little sister is in the hospital, and I promised my mother I’d go sit with her so she can go help out at the church.”
“Your little sister is in the hospital?” Why don’t I know this? I wish Mandy had filled me in a little more.
“Yes.” She glances at Mandy who has appeared at the door with a questioning look. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”
Okay, so Mandy didn’t know either. “Don’t worry about that being a burden.” I feel a lump form in my throat. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Blair slowly shakes her head and lowers her gaze to her desk before I see the first tear splat on the blotter. “She’s having some complications from chemotherapy, so they’re keeping her in the hospital for observation.”
“Oh, Blair, why didn’t you say something?” Mandy doesn’t hesitate to close the gap and put her arm around her assistant.
“On my last job, I was told to keep my personal life out of the business.” She glances up with misty eyes, and her chin quivers.
“That’s totally not us.” Mandy looks to me for reassurance.
“Mandy’s right. We care about the people who work for the Cut ’n Curl, and we want to help wherever and whenever we can.”
That’s all it takes for the dam to break. Blair starts boo-hooing, and Mandy excuses herself to get tissues.
“Look, Blair, if you need to take care of your sister, we understand. Just please don’t bottle up your worries, because we might be able to do something.”
Blair looks me in the eye. “What can y’all do?”
I take a deep breath and decide to share my faith. “We can pray. I’m very good at that.”
A slight grin forms on her lips. “That’s another thing I wasn’t sure I could talk about. My family has always gone to church, but my last boss . . . ” She sniffles as she takes the tissue Mandy hands her. “Well, he told me to leave my religion at home and concentrate on the job when I’m at work.”
“You didn’t get fired for your faith, did you?” I narrow my eyes.
“Oh, no, I didn’t get fired. I walked out when he told me I had to work overtime on a night when he knew I was supposed to sing in church.”
Mandy and I exchange a look before I lean toward Blair and whisper, “If you have to leave early for church, we understand. This business is for people and about people, and most of us here are believers. And we don’t always have to agree about everything, so if you have a difference of opinion, don’t be afraid to state it. Just remember, though, that you might wind up with a spirited discussion as a result.”
“You can say that again,” Mandy added.
“So is there anything we can do besides pray?” I ask.
“Well . . . ” Blair looks at Mandy then at me. “My mama is a big fan of yours, and she’d really enjoy meeting you. Can she come here sometime . . . I mean . . . I’ll tell her she can’t stay long.”
“That’s fine, but I have an even better idea. Why don’t we go pick up some food and bring dinner to your mother and sister in the hospital?”
Mandy makes a face. “I’m not so sure I want to be around sick people.”
I level her with one of my mock-stern looks. “Afraid you might learn something?”
Blair laughs. “The kids in the section where my sister is would love to see some new faces.”
“That settles it.” I point to the phone. “Call your sister’s favorite restaurant and place an order. I like just about anything, so I’ll have whatever she wants.”
Mandy sighs. “Okay, I guess I’ll go too.”
It takes Blair about ten minutes to find out what her mother and sister want and to call the order in to the Thai restaurant near the hospital. I tell them to go on ahead, and I’ll pick up the food.
Joy fills my heart. Maybe taking the focus off my career goals for a change is just what I need.
I arrive in the hospital parking lot with two bags filled with containers of food. Blair and Mandy meet me by the entrance and offer to help.
“I need to warn you that most of the kids in Haley’s unit are bald from the chemo treatments.”
An idea flickers in my mind, but I don’t say anything just yet. We walk inside and go up in the elevator to the children’s unit. The second we step out, we’re greeted by a sweet-looking woman about my mother’s age and the cutest little bald-headed girl I think I’ve ever seen.
Blair’s mother gives her daughter a hug and turns to me. “So this is your boss lady?”
“Mama, I’d like you to meet Priscilla and Mandy, who manages the Cut ’n Curl office.”
I see stars in Blair’s mother’s eyes as she shakes my hand. “Please call me Irma. It’s so nice to meet you, Priscilla.” She turns to Mandy and pats her arm. “You too, Mandy.”
“Mandy is Blair’s immediate supervisor since I travel so much. In fact, she’s the one who hired her.”
“Thank you so much for giving my girl a chance. She hasn’t had it easy, with all we have to deal with.”
Blair’s little sister stares up at me, her smile warming me all over. I lean over and grin right back at her.
“You are so cute!”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and looks down at the floor. Her mother puts her hands on Haley’s shoulders. “My baby’s always been shy around people she doesn’t know.”
I nod. “Haley, I hear you like Thai food.” When she nods, I wink. “So do I, so I brought some for supper. Do you think we should share?”
She giggles and nods. Irma’s chin quivers as she sees us interacting.
As we eat, I’m pleased that Haley grows more comfortable, and she actually asks questions. “Do you like being on TV?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “But sometimes I like not being on TV too.”
Haley turns to Mandy. “Are you famous like Miss Priscilla?”
Mandy shakes her head. “No, I’m not the least bit famous, and I don’t wanna be either.”
“How about you, Haley?” I ask. “Would you like to be famous?”
She adamantly nods. “When my hair grows back, I wanna be famous and be on TV, just like you.”
Her innocence touches my heart in a way I’ve never experienced before. After we finish eating, I pull Irma to the side. “How would you feel about Haley getting a wig from one of my customers?” I explain how every now and then, one of the Cut ’n Curl customers wants to donate hair to the Locks of Love organization.
Irma’s eyes light up. “She would absolutely love that!”
My heart practically explodes with gladness as I realize I’ve found something that I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of. I want to help these children feel better about themselves, and my business is in the ideal position to help.
19
Laura
You know I don’t much like that boy Renee’s hangin’ all over.” Pete gently brushes past me to get a glass from the cupboard. He turns on the faucet, fills the glass, downs the water, and fills it up again. Ever s
ince he gave up alcohol, he started drinkin’ enough water to drown a fish. “Can’t you make him go away?”
I level him with one of my looks. “I’ve talked to her about their . . . affection, and she says they’re not into hidin’ their love.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Pete sips his second glass of water and scowls. “Kids have been hidin’ their affection since the beginnin’ of time, and that’s the way it should stay. Parents shouldn’t hafta see their young’uns gettin’ groped.”
“Why don’t you talk to her?”
He shrugs, still frowning. “What’s the point? Anything I tell these kids goes in one ear and out the other.”
“If I tell her, it won’t even make it to her ears. I think there’s some sort of mama-censor monster that protects our young’uns from hearin’ our advice.” I sigh. “I’d like to tell that boy to get lost, but I’m afraid the one we’d lose is Renee.” I look at my husband. “I wish someone woulda told us this might happen.”
Pete actually cracks a smile as he sets down his water glass. “C’mere, Miss Pudge.”
“Don’t call me that. I want credit for those twenty pounds I lost.”
“Okay, Skinny Lady, I wanna hold you.”
I take a step toward the only man I’ve ever loved—the one I’ve been through thick and thin with, and I’m talkin’ so thin I wasn’t even sure it was there sometimes. As I snuggle into his arms, I feel our heartbeats hammerin’ away in a familiar rhythm that lets me know we’re meant to be together forever. Pete tips my face up toward his and leans down to kiss me.
“Ew, gross.” I yank my head around to see our third kid, Bonnie Sue, standin’ at the kitchen door. “Do y’all hafta do that in front of everybody?”
Pete chuckles as he keeps his hold on me. “Last I checked me and your mama was the only ones in the room.”
“Mamas and daddies should never act that way.” She lifts an arm to shield her eyes from the sight of us.
“How do you think you got here, young lady?” Pete glances down at me and winks.
Bonnie Sue grunts. “That’s disgusting.”
“Maybe so,” Pete says, “but have you ever thought about it?”
Our daughter makes the worst face I’ve ever seen as she holds up her hand. “I am so outta here.” She makes a gagging sound as she leaves the kitchen.
Pete turns around to face me, grinnin’ real big. “That’s one way to have our alone time. All we have to do is act romantic, and our young’uns run away so fast you’d think they had a skunk chasin’ ’em.”
We hear Bonnie Sue shoutin’ in the living room about how disgustin’ her sister is bein’ with Wilson. I couldn’t agree with her more.
Pete snorts. “No wonder that Bonnie Sue ain’t been able to hold onto a boyfriend. At least we prob’ly won’t have to worry about her havin’ to get married.”
“That’s no guarantee.”
He lets go of me, picks up his glass of water, and chugs all but the last few sips. “I know that, but that don’t mean I can’t have wishful thinkin’. It’s goin’ all through me to see that boy’s hands on Renee.”
“Me too. But at least we know where they are.”
Pete nods. “Yeah, at least for now we do. I don’t know how long that’ll be the case, though.”
Nothing much has changed from one generation to the next. Little kids look up to their mamas and daddies, then they become preteen monsters. As they pass through their teenage years, hormones rule and misplace their brain cells. I’ve heard that in a few years, they’ll find ’em, and that’s when Pete and I’ll be able to reminisce the good ol’ days that never were.
“So how many folks do you reckon will be at the reunion this year?” Pete dumps the water and pours himself a fresh glass. Ever since he quit drinkin’ he has a thing about his water bein’ fresh.
“More than we had in our class. We’re gettin’ calls from people a year ahead and a year behind us. Seems we throw the best parties, and they wanna be part of the fun.”
Pete looks at me with a half-grin and shakes his head. “It’s not that we have the best parties. They just don’t wanna miss out on bein’ in on the earliest gossip.”
“Yeah, you’re prob’ly right. Some earth-shatterin’ drama always happens at our reunions.”
“One thing you can count on this year, Skinny Lady, is I won’t cause none of that drama. I’m sober, and I plan to stay that way.”
I’m so proud of my husband I could spit, I think as I pick up my dishrag and start wipin’ the countertops. Once upon a time, I had a little fear that if Pete ever stayed on the straight-and-narrow, he’d lose interest in me. When I realized that wouldn’t happen, I’ve been able to enjoy a husband who loves me without the fog.
The phone rings, and since Pete doesn’t appear eager to answer it, I put down my rag and lift the receiver. It’s Didi Holcomb, and she sounds like she has a cold . . . or she’s been cryin’.
“I-I’m calling to cancel my place at the reunion.” She sniffles.
“What’s the matter, Didi? You sick or somethin’?”
“Uh . . . yes, I’m very sick.”
I want to ask more questions, but Didi has one of those personalities that puts people in their places, even when she doesn’t say anything. “Okay, I’ll try and see if I can get you your money back, but I can’t guarantee—”
“Don’t worry about it. I never expect to see any of my money again.”
Whoa. Somethin’ is buggin’ her real bad. I swallow hard before blurting, “Do you need to talk, Didi? You can come over if you want to.”
The sudden silence makes me wish I hadn’t invited her over, but to my surprise, she speaks up. “Yes, I’d love to talk. May I come now?”
“Sure. Come on over.”
As soon as I hang up, I scurry around the kitchen puttin’ things away that we normally leave out. I run out to the livin’ room and tell Renee she needs to pull herself away from Wilson long enough to help me straighten up a bit. She groans and starts to complain, but I give her one of them looks that lets her know I mean business. That doesn’t stop the grumblin’, but she does go into action.
I holler up the stairs to Pete to let him know we’re about to have company, and he’s not to come down unless he’s fully clothed. He hollers back, “Who’d come over here at this hour?”
“It’s just seven-thirty, Pete.”
“My show’ll be on in half an hour.”
I don’t even bother commenting on that. Instead I toss a few stray shoes into the coat closet. I’m about to head back into the kitchen when the doorbell rings. That girl didn’t waste a second gettin’ over here.
When I fling the door open, I’m shocked to see a mess of a woman with ratty hair, no makeup, and a wrinkled T-shirt that came from some bank’s grand opening. I do my best not to let on as I take a step back. “C’mon in, Didi. Do you wanna sit in the livin’ room or in the kitchen?”
She steps inside and looks around. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Once we’re there, I’m not sure what to do next, so I point to the table. “Have a seat, and I’ll put on some coffee.”
“It’s too late for coffee.”
“How about tea or water?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want anything but a few questions answered.”
The way she says that sounds like she’s about to accuse me of something, and I get nervous. I don’t think I’ve done anything to her, but I can be clueless at times. I pour myself a glass of tea and join her at the table. “So what’s on your mind, Didi?”
“You and Priscilla are pretty good friends, aren’t you?”
Didi obviously doesn’t know either Priscilla or me very well if she’s wonderin’ that, and I don’t know what she’s gettin’ at, so I bob my head. “Why do you ask?”
She props her elbow on the table and leans toward me. “What does she have that I don’t?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Didi.”
&nb
sp; “Seems like Priscilla gets everything she wants. She beat me out of valedictorian, she’s a successful businesswoman, and now she’s famous.”
I tilt my head and look at Didi in a way I’ve never seen her. The woman is downright jealous. “It’s not like you’re not accomplished, Didi. Look at you.” I hold my hands out toward her. “You’re a doctor.”
She snorts. “Yeah, a pitiful doctor who doesn’t have the sense to know when she’s being used.”
Now we’re gettin’ to the good stuff. “So is this really about Maurice?”
“It’s about how I always get whatever Priscilla doesn’t want, and I’m getting sick and tired of never being first choice.”
“Are you saying Maurice wants Priscilla?”
Didi closes her eyes and swallows before giving me the most pained look I’ve ever seen. “I have no idea what Maurice wants, and I’m not sure he knows either. But what I do know is that every time things start to look good for us, Priscilla finds a way to jump between us.”
This is makin’ no sense. I just happen to know Priscilla can’t stand Maurice—ever since somethin’ he did after the last reunion. Besides, Priscilla hasn’t even been to town much lately, and I’ve seen him enough to know he’s been here, so how can Priscilla come between Didi and Maurice?
“Are you sure it’s Priscilla and not someone . . . or somethin’ else?”
“Oh, it’s Priscilla, all right. Did you see that magazine article about her and that guy she keeps bringing around?” She reaches for the saltshaker and starts fiddlin’ with it. “It’s like she can’t stand seeing me happy.”
“I could be wrong, Didi, but I don’t think that magazine article has anything to do with tryin’ to keep you from bein’ happy. In fact, from what I’ve heard, she wasn’t even the first to know about it.”
“See? I knew you’d stick up for her. Everyone wants to take her side.” Didi stands up and lifts her hands in the air like she’s givin’ up. “What’s with everyone? Are you all a bunch of puppets that Priscilla Slater can manipulate?” She snorts. “Obviously you are.”
That does it. I’m sick and tired of this woman’s whiny-butt nonsense. I stand up and jab my finger toward her chair. “Sit back down, Didi Holcomb, and listen to me.” The sternness of my own voice surprises even me, and it gives me the energy to keep goin’.
