Pretty Is as Pretty Does

by Debby Mayne

  Trudy

  I keep thinking about how Marlene sees something special in Hank. And every time I see Alan he gets better looking and more desirable. I’m thinking I made a big mistake in telling Alan we should just be friends. Maybe it’s not too late to take another look at him as boyfriend material. When I brought his car back to him, he told me to keep it for another day so he could drive my car to make sure it was fixed right. Of course, I won’t argue about driving a shiny Jag, but I can’t keep it forever either. I’m still a little baffled by the fact that he’s not taking advantage of more opportunities to be with me.

  On Thursday evening after work, I give him a call. “What are you doin’ tomorrow night?”

  “No plans yet,” he says. “Why? Got something in mind?”

  “I might.” I turn and look at the grocery bags I haven’t yet unloaded. “Would you like to come over to my place for supper?”

  “Is rain wet?”

  “What?” That’s a silly question.

  “Never mind that. Of course I’d like to come over for supper. I’ve got something I’d like to tell you. I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Okay, that sounds good,” I tell him. Since I seem to be on an eternal diet, I rarely eat dessert—at least not in front of people anyway. Most of the time I have self-control when it comes to sweets, but when dark chocolate or caramel are involved, it’s hard.

  “What kind of dessert do you like?”

  I start to tell him anything but chocolate or caramel, but I stop myself. Those might be his favorites, and who am I to deny such a darling man those pleasures?

  “Anything you like will be fine.”

  “Good. I’ll surprise you.”

  Ever since I got home from the reunion, I’ve thought about the events and how I would do things differently if I knew then what I know now. First, I’d never starve myself again just to impress Michael, who clearly doesn’t deserve the attention he gets. And second, I would have asked Alan to see if he could cancel his business meeting to join me, regardless of how nerdy he can be. He’s sweeter and way more successful than any of the boys I went to school with. At least I think he’s successful, since he has such a great car. So what if he isn’t super cute and buff like Michael? That stuff doesn’t matter much anymore. What really matters is what you do with your life, and Alan has clearly done well with his.

  I put all the groceries away, feeling pretty smug about how I’ve grown more self-confident after what happened less than a week ago. Sometimes it just takes passing out to know what’s real and what isn’t. What I had with Michael was a case of trying to carry our high school royalty into adulthood, and that simply isn’t possible, unless you meet some brainiac with his sights set on the White House. And even then, from what I can see, it isn’t always lollipops and roses. Being on camera all the time wouldn’t be a problem for me, but to have reporters digging into my past, well . . . That could be embarrassing. I don’t know a single person, except maybe Priscilla Slater, who has a squeaky clean past. And I’m not even sure about her.

  Now that I’ve thought about her, I pull out my to-do list and add that I need to write her a thank-you note. She worked magic on my hair, and she didn’t charge me an arm and a leg. Priscilla is a real nice girl, and she’s made the most with what she has. Until last week, I never saw her as all that attractive, but now she’s actually pretty, in sort of a sharp, big-city way. The only hint of her Southernness is a tad of fluff in her hair that bounces around her shoulders. I kept looking at it before I passed out, trying to figure out how she gets it to do what it does because, back in high school, it was mighty straight and thin . . . and boring.

  After all the groceries are put away, and I get my apartment all tidy and nice for Alan, I go to bed. Tomorrow is a big day at work, and then I aim to impress the man I think I want to date. I’m still not 100-percent certain yet, but if he can hold a decent conversation and show promise that he’ll listen to me about sprucing up his wardrobe, we’ll be a couple before the next big event in Piney Point—my cousin Charlotte’s wedding. She’s all full of herself because she’s marrying the mayor’s son. Just wait ’til she sees Alan in his new chinos and cashmere sweater I’ll talk him into buying. And that’s just for the rehearsal dinner. He’ll be in a suit for the wedding, and no one will have to know he got it with my big executive discount where I work.

  Oh yes, I have our futures planned out. It might seem presumptuous at this point in our relationship, but I’ve always been one who likes to project into the future. I’ve always thought that if you don’t daydream big, you can’t expect much to happen. Alan and I will be one of the most amazing couples, and he’ll have me to thank for pulling him out of his nerdiness and giving him some good old-fashioned Southern gentleman polish—and that never goes out of style.

  I wake up and lay everything out for tonight. The chicken is marinating in a special sauce that the butcher swears is delicious and will have any man eating out of my hands, and the table is set for a romantic dinner for two. I even downloaded some of my favorite love songs, just in case I need help with the mood. Mama once told me that the more of a man’s senses a girl can tickle, the better her chances are of getting him to do whatever she wants. And I have a list of wants a mile long.

  All day I think about tonight. Who’d a thought I’d be going to all this much trouble for someone like Alan Maxwell? If we’d known each other in high school, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t have been mean to him. I was never mean to anyone. He simply wouldn’t have been on my radar, except around exam time when I relied on people like him to explain some of the hard stuff. I cringe as I think about how many opportunities to get to know some nice people were wasted. Then I shake those thoughts from my head. There’s no point in worrying about the past because I can’t change it. But I’ve learned quite a bit about what’s really important.

  Now that I think about it, passing out is one of the best things that ever happened to me, but I know it upset folks. Priscilla was worried sick. She just doesn’t understand what I’ve had to go through all my life to be me.

  I’m still not happy being between a size six and a size eight, but I’ll take my time getting to my goal. After tonight. That chicken marinade smells delicious, and I’m not about to deny myself at least a few tastes.

  The music I’ve put together is a mix of soft rock, classic rock, indie, country, and classical. Since I’m not sure what Alan likes, I figure that’s the safest thing to do.

  “What are you smiling about?” my boss asks as she comes up from behind me with a roller rack loaded with new dresses. “I’ve been watching you all morning, and you seem to be in mighty good spirits.”

  “I’m always in good spirits,” I say, still grinning.

  “This is different.” She gives me a long look. “This isn’t your pageant smile.”

  I sigh. “Things have changed. I’m content now. I’ve learned some stuff about myself . . . and others.”

  “Man, I wish I could’ve been at that class reunion to see what happened. You haven’t been the same since you’ve been back.” She positions the rack against the wall and turns back to me. “I like the new you.”

  “So do I,” I tell her as I point to the dresses. “Thanks for bringing those.”

  “You’ve been swamped. I thought you could use the help.”

  The rest of the afternoon goes by fairly quickly. Customers seem to respond well to my new attitude. I’ve never had trouble getting along with people, but now I feel like I understand them better.

  After work, I go straight home and take a shower to get ready for Alan. He shows up five minutes early—something Michael would never do.

  “What’s that?” I point to the bakery box in his hands.

  “Chocolate cake with caramel icing.”

  There’s no way I’m skipping dessert tonight. “Come on in. Supper will be ready soon.”

  He leans against the kitchen counter and talks to
me as I cook. “Funny, I never imagined you being the domestic type.”

  Mama once told me that even if I don’t eat, I need to know how to cook, or I’d never be able to hold onto a good man. I wish I’d taken her advice, but it’s never too late. “I love to cook,” I say. I’ll need to take a cooking class or two, but that’s fine if it gets me where I need to be. Michael obviously isn’t that good man who needed holding onto, but I’m hoping Alan is.

  I light the candles, turn on the music, and we sit down to a meal that looks as delicious as it smells. He looks around the room then settles his attention on me. I smile and sigh as I think about how romantic this is. There’s no doubt in my mind it’s working if his expression is any indication.

  “Um . . . Trudy, there’s something I probably need to tell you . . . but I’m not sure . . .”

  He looks mighty uncomfortable. “Just say it.” I lift my iced tea glass and smile. “You can tell me anything.”

  Alan’s chest rises with a deep breath, and his cheeks puff as he blows it out. Finally, he looks me directly in the eye. “I’ve been seeing my old girlfriend from college, and we’ve decided to get back together.” He reaches for my hand and gives me a pitying look. “I didn’t think anything like this would ever happen between you and me . . .” He glances down then looks back up at me. “I’m sorry if this is ruining your plans.”

  My heart nearly stops as his words sink in. He couldn’t have said anything that would have surprised me more. “But I thought—”

  “I’m sorry . . . It’s just that, well, I figured you were out of my league.” He stops and gives me an apologetic grin. “Lydia is more like me. She works in IT for another large company, and we speak the same language.”

  I put down my glass and close my eyes for just a few seconds then look back up at him and smile. “I totally understand, Alan. You’re a great guy, and I hope you and Lydia are happy.” Now that the words are out, I feel better than ever. “I really do.”

  “Good. I hope you and I can be friends. Maybe you can meet Lydia sometime. She’s not exactly a beauty queen like you, but she’s cute in her own way.”

  “I’m sure she’s beautiful,” I tell him. “And so are you.”

  I get up and turn the lights up then sit back down so we can finish our meal. After we eat, we get our dessert and carry it into the living room, where we sit—him in a chair and me on the sofa.

  “I had to bring your car back to the shop a couple of times,” he says, “but I think everything is fixed, and it’s safe to drive.”

  “Thank you so much for your help, Alan. How much do I owe you?”

  “Not a dime. It makes me feel good to help someone who needs me.”

  Those words are more powerful than he’ll ever know. “Let me get the keys to your Jag.”

  39

  Priscilla

  Mother asks me to hang around over the weekend and go to church with her and Dad. On Saturday we go shopping, and I use the opportunity to make a few more suggestions for her wardrobe. She loves the coral sweater set I brought her from Jackson, even though Dad teases her about it being too dignified for the Classy Lassies. We buy a scarf that will be perfect for it, and she can also use it when she wears her navy suit for a pop of color. I talk to her about the fine art of mixing things up, and to my delight, she listens attentively.

  I expect her to bring up my date with Maurice, but she doesn’t. Finally, I tell her I made a mistake by even thinking there was a chance of something happening. She smiles and asks me how I like a pair of earrings she holds up. This is one of those times I appreciate her avoidance skills.

  When we come home with several shopping bags, Dad just shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and I think that’s a good sign. Mother winks at me, and I get a rush, thinking about how much I’ve longed for that closeness with her.

  Sunday after church, we have a nice lunch in Hattiesburg then drive out to visit Dad’s brother in Columbia. We have a pleasant weekend, but I’m itching to get back to work.

  All the way back to Jackson Monday morning, I refocus my thoughts on what I have to look forward to rather than the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve been smart in business but not so much with my social life. The fact that I didn’t see through Maurice’s fake attraction tells me I need work in that area. But not now. His actions also reminded me of my plan to expand, and now just might be the right time.

  Mandy doesn’t do things the way I would, but she does seem to have a knack for running an office. Her decorating skills show she needs to develop her sense of business style, but now that I think about it, what does it matter? The Cut ’n Curl office rarely has visitors, and those who do choose to come up don’t really care how the office is decorated.

  It’s time to take the next step toward my ultimate plan. I’ll need to help Mandy work on her people skills and remind her every so often that she’s the office manager, not in charge of the salons. The only person she’s responsible for is Becca, and they seem to have an excellent relationship. Becca has already let me know she’s interested in a permanent position, which I’m fine with.

  By the time I arrive at the office, I’ve also made my decision to start looking for my next several locations. The packed parking lot brings a wave of satisfaction and confirms that I’m doing the right thing.

  Becca greets me when I walk into the office. “Here’s a stack of messages when you’re ready for them.” She lifts the phone, punches in a number, and says, “Priscilla is back.”

  My office door swings open, and Mandy grins at me. “Welcome back, Priscilla. I guess you want your office now.” She glances over at Becca, who looks sad through her smile.

  “No, I don’t think so,” I say. I motion for them to join me in the reception area. I pull Becca’s chair from around the desk and gesture for her to have a seat. “I’ve been thinking.”

  Their eyes widen as I tell them my plans to put Mandy in charge of the office to give me the freedom to grow the business. Mandy looks like she’s ready to pop with joy, and Becca’s smile appears much more real.

  “So does this mean I can be a permanent employee of the Cut ’n Curl?” Becca asks.

  “Yes, if you want to be.” I turn to Mandy. “So what do you think about being the official office manager?”

  Her eyebrows shoot straight upward. “That sounds perfect! When will I start?”

  I chuckle. “You already have. I’m impressed that you managed to step up to the task while I was gone. Remember, you’ll be managing the office, but I’m still in charge of anything to do with the salons and personnel.” I nod toward Becca. “Except Becca, who will report directly to you.”

  “What’s my title?” Becca slinks back a little and blushes. “I guess I don’t have to have a title.”

  “What would you like it to be?” I really don’t care what she calls herself.

  She shrugs and offers a sheepish smile. “Can I be assistant office manager?”

  “Sounds good.” I stand. “This week, I’ll work from home since we don’t have enough room for all of us to do our jobs here. I’d like both of you to make a list of what you’ve been doing so I can create job descriptions.”

  Mandy looks ready to jump out of her skin she’s so happy. “Can I go call my mama now? She’ll be so proud of me.”

  “Go ahead.” After she leaves, I turn my attention to Becca. “We’ll get to know each other better over the next week or so.” I extend my hand. “Welcome to Cut ’n Curl.”

  “My mama will be proud of me too,” she says as she pumps my hand. “She’s been worried about me working so many temp jobs.”

  “While you’re telling her about your permanent job, don’t forget to let her know you’ll get health insurance and vacation time.”

  “Can I call her now?”

  “Go right ahead.” I lift the messages from her desk. “I’ll take care of these while y’all talk to your mothers.”

  As soon as I reach the door, it opens, and I see Tim standing there. “We
ll, hello, stranger,” he says. “How’s Piney Point been since I left?”

  I shrug. “Let’s go have some breakfast, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Becca hands Tim a stack of papers. “Here’s our order. We’re out of a lot of stuff.”

  “Thanks.” He gestures for me to lead the way. “I can’t wait to hear about . . . what’s his name.”

  “Maurice?” I flip my hand from the wrist. “He’s old news.”

  “Really?” Tim’s eyes light up. “That’s good to hear.”

  During breakfast, I tell him all about how Maurice was using my lingering teenage feelings toward him to try to get me to help him and his uncle expand their tractor business. Tim’s expression shows growing hope, and he makes all the right sounds of annoyance over Maurice’s sneaky ways, even though I know he’s pleased as punch.

  “It’s good you found out before it was too late,” he says.

  “I know. It worries me that I’ve harbored those feelings for so long. It’s not even like he encouraged me when we were teenagers.”

  “Some things are just hard to explain.” He plays with his coffee spoon for a few seconds before looking me directly in the eye. “Would you like to go somewhere nice tonight?”

  “Yes, I’d love to,” I say. Being with Tim is such a pleasure after what I experienced with Maurice. Tim is sweet, interesting, and doesn’t have an ounce of deceit.

  He glances at his watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to make a bunch more sales calls today.”

  “We’ve been here an hour,” I say as I stand and grab the check before Tim has a chance to get it. “Breakfast is on me.”

  Tim pauses before nodding. “Thank you, Priscilla.”

  He takes me to the Cut ’n Curl parking lot, and I get into my car without going up to the office. I don’t want to interrupt the celebration I’m fairly certain is going on up there. Mandy and Becca have worked hard, and they deserve a little time to enjoy their surprise promotions.

  My townhouse smells like a combination of new carpet and furniture cleaner. I’m happy to be in my own space, without having to worry about bothering anyone else. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve experienced more emotional and psychological growth than any other whole year of my life. Sometimes it seems the most painful experiences wind up being the best lessons.