Bless Her Heart

by Debby Mayne

  “So true,” he says. “I’ll work on that. By the time we move to the ice factory, people will come to me begging me to do whatever I want, and they’ll leave happier than ever.”

  Sheila stops, shears in midair over Mrs. Hatcher’s head. “Dream on, big boy, dream on.”

  Mrs. Hatcher cackles. “All depends on what you want to do. If you tell me you can make me look twenty years younger, I’d say go for it.”

  “I don’t know how you can possibly look twenty years younger, Mrs. Hatcher,” Chester says. “What are you now? Twenty-nine?”

  “I better keep an eye on you, Chester, or you’ll wind up stealin’ all my customers away.”

  Mrs. Hatcher makes eye contact with Sheila in the mirror, smiling with her whole face. “You know I’d never leave you, Sheila. I started coming to you when you were fresh out of beauty school. How long’s that been? fifteen, twenty years?”

  Sheila frowns. “I don’t think it’s been anywhere near that long.”

  I just happen to know it’s been much longer than that, but I don’t say anything. After I finish cleaning my station, I head to the back and get my tote. I walk past Chester, and he does a double take.

  “Where’d you get that bag? It’s gorgeous! I think that’s the one I saw in last month’s Elle.”

  “It was a gift, and thank you. I like it too.” Rather than wait for more comments or questions, I leave the salon. Even though I’ve bucked my upbringing and wear designer labels, I’m still uncomfortable calling attention to them.

  As soon as I walk into the house, Mother confronts me. “So you’re buying the old ice factory? What are you thinking, Priscilla? Have you lost your mind?”

  19

  Celeste

  On my way to the Cut ’n Curl on Wednesday, I pass the old ice factory and laugh. Priscilla has always been one of those weirdo, studious types, but in the past she had more common sense than most. Now she’s done gone and put an offer on a building no one in their right mind would even step foot in, let alone go for a beauty treatment.

  Reality hits as I ponder the idea of finding another beauty shop, and I feel my perfectly tweezed eyebrows drawing together. Weird as Priscilla is, she knows her stuff when it comes to beauty.

  I park my car and walk into the salon and see Priscilla standing at the front desk looking all full of herself. If I didn’t depend on her to make me pretty I’d want to rip her face off. Back in high school I didn’t like much of anyone, especially the girls who thought they were either too pretty or too smart to hang out with me. Not that I went to all that much trouble to make friends, ’cause I didn’t. Why would anyone wanna be friends with a loser? I shudder and try to shake off that old feeling that keeps rising inside me.

  “Hi there, Celeste,” she says, grinning like she means it. “Ready for your facial?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I try to act all normal, like this is something I’ve been doing all my life. In reality, I’m still trying to get used to looking good, and being in the place where it all started makes me all squirmy inside. It’s like they’re on to my secret, and they know I’m a fake. Which I am. I mean, think about it. I walk in being the town ugly duckling and walk out looking like this. No fooling anyone here.

  We sit down across from each other at the little table in the private room at the back for what she calls the consultation. I don’t wanna talk about it. I just want to git ’er done.

  She looks me over and jots down some notes. “Looks like you’ve kept everything up, Celeste. Good job.” She puts down her pen and leans back in her chair. “There’s only one thing you need to be careful of, and it’s pretty common.”

  “What’s that?” I just know she’s about to tell me in the nicest way she knows how that I’m back to being ugly.

  “Before I say anything, I want you to know you look fabulous. It’s just that . . . well, you’re overplucking your eyebrows.” She smiles. “A lot of women do that. They figure if a little plucking makes them look polished then more plucking is even better.”

  “I like ’em this way.” Why is she still grinning at me like that? I know she’s not stupid, but she sure looks like the town fool, sitting there with that smile on her face, even though she knows I’m not gonna change my mind.

  “Tell you what, Celeste. Let me show you what I mean.” She picks up a makeup pencil. “I’ll fill in one of your brows just a teeny bit, and we’ll look at the difference between the two of them. That way you don’t have to make a commitment. If you don’t like it, all you’ve done is confirmed it.”

  Leave it to Priscilla to find a way to get what she wants. I try to bob my head, but I haven’t quite mastered the technique yet. I’ll have to watch more reality TV. “That’s fine.”

  She leans toward me and brushes the pencil across my eyebrow a bunch of times, in tiny strokes. When she’s done, she’s back to smiling. “There we go. Take a look and see for yourself.”

  I pick up the handheld mirror and look at myself every which-a-way—my whole face all at once, the left side covered, and then the right side covered. Well color me shocked. The girl’s right again.

  By the time I’m ready to leave, I’m missing the top layer of the skin on my face, I have a new-and-improved mascara that makes my eyelashes all flirty and blinky, my lips are moistened with color that won’t rub off even when me and Jimmy smooch, and I have eyebrows that frame all this beautifulness. And I’ve booked my next appointment for a hair consultation and cut. I don’t know how Priscilla does it. I’m happy for how I look, but I still don’t like her much.

  Mama has already paid, so all I have to do is leave a tip, which Priscilla says isn’t necessary, but I do. After all, a girl’s got to have pride if she has nothing else.

  On my way out the door, I pass Chester’s area, and he winks. “Lookin’ good, girl.”

  I sling my bag over my shoulder and keep walking. It bugs me when I don’t know why someone’s complimenting me—if he’s trying to keep me coming back or if he really means it. Either way, it makes me uncomfortable. I mean, all my life I’ve been homely, so of course I don’t take to all this attention like a natural-born pretty girl.

  Sheila is standing at the front desk writing in her appointment book. She looks up at me and blinks. “You keep lookin’ better and better all the time, Celeste. I’m glad you’ve found your natural beauty.”

  My lips twitch, and I grin back at her. I don’t mean to; it just happens. Something about Sheila makes her seem real.

  I switched schedules with one of the second-shift nursing assistants at the nursing home, so I have to go get ready for work. As much as I hated going back to a regular job after my last private-duty patient died, I’ve discovered it’s sorta fun to have coworkers. They crack jokes, and even when I don’t think they’re funny, I laugh because it makes me feel like I’m part of something—a feeling I’ve always wanted but never had until I got done over. And most of these folks didn’t know me back in the days when I was downright uglier’n a mud fence. All they see is the beautiful new me.

  20

  Priscilla

  We’ll need to have the electricity turned back on,” Jackie informs me during our discussion about having an inspection of the old ice factory. “I’ll see if the sellers will foot the bill, but be prepared if they won’t.”

  “Tell you what,” I say. “Don’t even bother asking them. I’ll pay.”

  “It still has to be in their name.”

  “That’s fine. Just tell them to let me know when the bill comes in, and I’ll cover the cost.”

  “You’re too easy, Priscilla.” I hear the smile in her voice, which makes me happy. Real estate in Mississippi has been hit hard, and Piney Point has practically tanked. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jackie’s scrambling to make half the money she used to make when the economy was better.

  “What else do I need to do?”

  “Just sit tight until we get the inspection done. Do you want to have your design guy come in thi
s week, or do you wanna wait for the inspection?”

  It doesn’t take long to make that decision. My design guy just happens to be one of the best remodelers in the state, and he’s super busy. “I’ll wait. No point in wasting his time if the inspection doesn’t check out.”

  “Good thinkin’. The place has been sittin’ vacant so long there’s no tellin’ what might be wrong with it.”

  “Let’s just hope there’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  “I been in this business long enough to know that near ’bout everything can be fixed if you’re willin’ to cough up the money.”

  I laugh. “That’s how it is with almost everything, including my business.”

  “Yeah, you got that right. I’ve seen Celeste since you worked your magic on her.”

  Not one to ever trash talk my clients, regardless of how I feel about them, I change the subject. “With the reunion coming up next week, I might be out of pocket between now and then, so don’t feel like you have to rush anything.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll get the electricity turned on and order the inspection. Unless there’s a problem, I won’t need you for anything until it’s time to make a decision.”

  “Perfect. Thanks, Jackie.”

  “No problem.”

  Each day that leads up to the reunion is busier than the one before. I know I’ll be slammed next week, so I’m trying to give Mother the attention she seems to need.

  “If I wind up moving the Cut ’n Curl to the ice factory, there’ll be plenty of room for administrative offices,” I tell her during dinner on Thursday. “That way I can be closer if you need me.”

  “No, that’s silly. Besides, I don’t think that’ll happen because once you get your people in there they’ll tell you how ridiculous you’re being, thinking you can go in there and make that old ramshackle of a building into something you’d want your name on.”

  As I look at Mother, I wonder if she’s talking about her own pride and having her friends wonder about her daughter being in that old building. Although she openly shuns anything to do with external beauty, she’s still an intellectual snob.

  “I know you don’t like that place, Mother, but think of it this way. It’s a historical building, and we’re going to recycle as much as we can.”

  She frowns and hesitates a moment before nodding. “Yes, there is that. But you have to admit the place is quite an eyesore.”

  “Right now it is, but try to envision it.” I lift a hand and slowly wave it through the air. “The rustic building against the backdrop of a manicured lawn and a nicely paved driveway with fresh lines painted for parking. The canopied entrance welcomes visitors who walk into a full-service salon where they’ll get pampered and primped. They’ll tell all their friends about it, and before long, we’ll be known as the people who take the old and ugly, and make it new and pretty.”

  Being an English professor, mother loves symbolism. I see her eyes start to sparkle as she finally gets it. “As much as I hate to admit this, you might actually have something, Priscilla.”

  To drive my point home even more, I add, “Remember when you told me that wearing clothes from a thrift store was actually doing a service by keeping it from the landfill? Think of what I’m doing in the same way.”

  “You’re really stretching this a bit too far, Priscilla. Stop while you’re ahead.”

  I laugh and get up to clean the kitchen. “Why don’t you go finish up your summer schedule planning, while I do the dishes?”

  Since Teresa is due to come in the morning, I wipe down the appliances. Mother doesn’t want anyone, including our cleaning lady, to think she’s dirty or messy. In fact, I think since she’s had Teresa coming to the house, she does more housework than she did before.

  I awaken the next morning to the sound of loud voices in the house. Before I have a chance to sit up in bed, Mother’s at my door, a look of horror on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I rub my eyes and try to wrap my mind around being up at­—I glance at the clock—six thirty.

  “The ice factory.”

  Teresa is right behind her, hollering, “The whole place is on fire! You should see it. They had to call in the Hattiesburg Fire Department to come help put it out.”

  “Fire?” I hop right out of bed and grab my robe. “The house—?”

  Mother shakes her head, but I see the look of concern on her face. “No, honey, the ice factory.”

  I follow Mother into the living room, where she turns on the television to see if any of the local stations are covering the news. And they are, all from different angles. We flip from one channel to the next to see if there’s anything that can be saved, and it appears that won’t be the case.

  “Well, looks like your salon plans have just gone up in smoke.”

  Disappointment floods every inch of my body. “I better go call Jackie.”

  Mother stops me and looks me in the eye. “I know you’re disappointed, sweetie, but things have a way of working out. I’m sure you’ll find something even nicer.”

  I smile. “I hope so.”

  She moves to the side so I can go to my room and call Jackie in private. Jackie answers before the end of the first ring. “I was just about to call you. This is terrible. I had the electricity turned on right after I told the sellers you were willing to pay. They were eager to get movin’ on the deal.”

  “Now what?”

  “I’m not sure. Let me think about it. In the meantime, I can scout out a few more places, but they’ll likely be out a ways. We’ve already looked at everything downtown.”

  “Don’t worry about it now, Jackie. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “I—” She stops herself before continuing. “I would really like to help you find the perfect place, Priscilla . . . that is, if you still want to move.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Jackie. If . . . I mean when we move, you’ll be the one who handles it.”

  “Thank you, Priscilla. In the meantime, I need to call the sellers and let them know you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I’m sure they’ll know that.”

  “Not necessarily. Some buyers would still go through with a deal, but with changes in the contract, of course.”

  “They would?”

  “Yeah, but generally that happens if the buyer plans to raze the structures and start over.”

  “So would I be able to get it for a little less money?” I ask.

  “Not necessarily . . . at least not if they have time to think about how much time the buyer will save starting from scratch rather than having to retrofit the building to suit their needs.”

  Hmm. A speck of an idea flits through my mind, and I don’t want to waste time, or I might miss out on a fantastic but time-sensitive opportunity. “Why don’t you hold off on talking to the sellers for just a bit? I need to discuss something with my staff.”

  “But the building . . . I mean, there’s nothing left . . . ”

  “I know. Just trust me on this, okay?”

  “Oo-kaaaay,” she says slowly. “Want me to call you later?”

  “Sounds good.”

  After I get ready for work, I head for the door. Mother tilts her head and gives me a curious look. “What’s going on, Priscilla? You look different.” She narrows her eyes. “You look happy.”

  “I have an idea that just might wind up being the best one I’ve ever had.”

  “Uh-oh. I know what it means when you get one of your sil—” She pauses to smile. “One of your ideas.” For once, Mother resists the urge to call what I’m doing a silly frilly business, and I appreciate it.

  All the way to the salon, I hum the tune to “She Works Hard for the Money.” It’s still playing in my head as I walk into the shop. The whole place is buzzing with the news of the ice factory as the early-shift hairdressers talk about what I’ll do next. The commotion doesn’t even stop when I walk in.

  Sheila’s wiping down her station, and Chester’s placing his combs in the dis
infectant solution. Neither of them looks up, even though they both pause momentarily, letting me know they’re aware of my presence.

  “Hey, I have an idea I want to share with both of you,” I say as I stand between them.

  Sheila leans on the counter and looks me in the eye. “You sold us on your last idea, only to have it burn down this mornin’ . . . in case you haven’t heard.”

  “I heard.” I motion for her and Chester to follow me as I walk back toward the private room we’ve been using for facials.

  Chester closes the door behind him and glares at me. “I didn’t like that place, until you got us all excited about addin’ all the extras. Don’t get us worked up again.” He lifts his hands and drops them, slapping his sides, his lips turned downward at the corners, defying his words. “I think it’s a sign that we should just stay put.”

  I frown right back at him. “So you’re saying you think that this incident at the only place we’ve seriously considered should affect the salon’s future?”

  He folds his arms, flattens out his lips, and nods. I turn to Sheila and see her standing there staring at me, wearing an expression I can’t read.

  “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking, but remember it’s just the beginning of my thoughts.” I lower my voice so they’ll have to lean closer to hear what I’m saying. “We need to find out what the fire inspector’s report says first, of course, but if the building isn’t salvageable, I might go ahead and purchase the property to build a brand-new facility. There isn’t any commercial land left that close to town, and it’s really a good location.”

  “A brand-new salon, just like the one you have over in Jackson?” Sheila asks, a light of interest flashing in her eyes.

  “Something like that, only better. How about a brand-new building that is a replica of the old ice factory but with everything brand-new? We can even call it Prissy’s Cut ’n Curl and Ice Factory Day Spa.” I give them a moment to wrap their minds around the idea. “And I’m thinking the two of you—with input from the rest of the staff—can help me work up the plans to make it exactly how we want it.”