by Debby Mayne
Chester’s eyes widen, a childlike grin replaces his frown, and he lifts his hands straight up. “Priscilla, you are a genius, girl! I love that idea.”
Sheila snickers and gives him a sideways glance. “Chester, you are one fickle dude.”
He rolls his eyes at her and smiles at me. “I wouldn’t call me fickle. Open-minded is more like it.”
Sheila glances at the wall clock and darts toward the door. “I’m expectin’ my first appointment any minute. We can talk about this later.”
“Me too.” Chester runs out the door right behind her.
As soon as I’m alone, I wonder if I’ve done the right thing by telling them my initial thoughts because anything can go wrong. My motive was to give them some hope, but if something happens again, they may lose faith in my ideas, and it’ll take even longer to build them back up. I have to laugh at my own worries. It took me every bit of fifteen seconds to reignite their spark, so even if I have to spend a whole minute convincing them my next idea is good I can deal with it.
21
Laura
No, Bubba, you cannot go out with your friends tonight.”
“But, Mama . . . ” He takes time out to sniffle. “It’s Saturday.” My fourteen-year-old stands there looking like he might burst into tears just because I said he wasn’t allowed to hang out with that bunch of hoodlums he thinks are his friends.
“What part of grounded don’t you understand, Bubba?”
“That’s just stupid. We didn’t do nothin’ wrong . . . just TP someone’s yard.”
“The mayor’s yard,” I remind him. “Talk about stupid.”
“I didn’t know.” If he thinks those crocodile tears will break me, that boy has another think coming.
“What’s the problem?” Pete asks as he pulls out a chair and plops down into it. “Got any coffee?”
I pour Pete’s coffee, dump a bunch of nondairy creamer and sugar into it, give it a twirl with the spoon, and hand it to him. “Bubba thinks we should let him hang out with those . . . ” I cut a glance over to my son who has now turned to his daddy for mercy. “Those awful boys.” Please, Pete, I silently beg with my eyes. Back me up on this, just this once.
Pete takes a sip of his coffee, chuckles, and shakes his head, still smiling. “I don’t see what the problem is, Laura. That was just a boyish prank that didn’t hurt nobody.”
Times like this I want to strangle my husband. I feel like I’m raising four underage young’uns and an overgrown, overage toddler.
“Pete . . . ” I stop and see that he’s not even listening to me. Instead, he’s staring at our son.
“Bubba,” Pete says. “Your mama don’t want you hangin’ out with them boys.”
“But they’re my friends.”
Pete nods. “I know they are, and I understand why you’re just dyin’ to hang out with ’em tonight. That’s why I thought I’d offer somethin’ that should make both you and your mama happy.”
Now I’m curious. My husband might be an overgrown young’un, but he does have an interesting way with our offspring.
“If I can get your mama to agree to this, we’ll let you hang out with your friends, but only on one condition.” He continues staring at Bubba, whose face has lit up. “I can come along, just to make sure y’all stay outta trouble.”
Bubba looks horrified. “No, Daddy. That wouldn’t be cool.”
Pete continues grinning as he sips his coffee. “That’s the deal, Bubba. Take it or leave it.”
Bubba scowls down at his toaster pastry but doesn’t say a word. I can tell he’s thinking over his daddy’s offer. After a tense couple of minutes, Bubba shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll just stay home tonight.” He picks up the pastry and gobbles it up in three bites as I stand there in silence, watching my now-brilliant husband looking all smug and pleased with himself.
After Bubba leaves, Pete winks at me. “Ya gotta know what makes a boy tick, sweetie. I gave him a choice, and he’s the one who decided he’d be better off stayin’ home.”
I scramble up some eggs for Pete and toss in some extra cheese for helping me with Bubba. He eats them before they have a chance to get cold—the one thing I can count on from every single solitary member of my family—and gets up when he’s done, leaving his plate on the table—another thing I can count on if I don’t remind them to carry it to the sink. But that’s okay now because I’m still happy about him backing me up with our boy.
“Whatcha gonna do today?” Pete asks.
I shrug. “I thought I’d finish up some of the work for the reunion.”
“Finish up?” He pauses by the door. “You mean you’re almost all done?”
“You know better’n that. I’ve got my list for each day, and today I have to—”
“Look, Laura, I can’t stand around listenin’ to your list. I promised the guys I’d go help mount the engine on Trey’s Camaro.”
Whenever Pete helps the guys with anything, I know there’s drinking involved, and I’m not likely to see him again ’til suppertime. At least I don’t have to deal with feeding lunch to a half dozen half-drunk, starving men this time. A flash of pity for Trey’s wife flashes through me, but it doesn’t stay long when I think about her cleavage-baring tops and shorts that make her legs look longer than they really are.
“Have fun,” I say, knowing it’s pointless to even try to talk him into helping me get through my list.
I’ve barely finished doing the breakfast dishes when the doorbell rings. All the young’uns are home, so one of them should get the door. But then the doorbell rings again.
I wipe my hands on the dishtowel and answer the door, mumbling about how if it wasn’t for me, nothing would get done around here. Celeste, Jimmy, and Tim stand on the other side of the door.
“Hey y’all,” I say, not giving a hoot that Celeste and Jimmy look annoyed as all get out. “Wanna come in? I just dumped the last of the mornin’ coffee, but I can fix some more.”
“That would be good.” Celeste takes a step inside, and the men follow. “We’re all done with what you gave us to do. You need to give up some control, Laura. I woulda thought after last time—”
Tim holds up a hand. “Laura, please let us help you. I’m in town for a whole week, so I can run all the errands you need and be your right-hand man . . . that is, if you let me.”
In my book, the best thing Priscilla Slater has going for her is Tim Puckett. Too bad she doesn’t see husband potential in him.
“Okay.” I open my folder and scan the list of things to do this week. I reckon it won’t hurt to delegate a little more from my list.
We spend the next hour discussing and arguing about who should do what. Every now and then Tim plays referee, giving me a break from having to deal with Celeste’s know-it-all attitude that started when she got all prettied up at the Cut ’n Curl five years ago.
“Mama!” The sound of little Jack’s shrieking voice at the top of the stairs goes all through me. “Tell Renee to get out of my room.”
“Mama,” Renee hollers. “I’m not in Jack’s room. He’s in mine!”
“Don’t make me come up there,” I holler right back as I tromp to the bottom of the stairs. “Jack, get out of Renee’s room.”
“She stole my computer.”
“Here’s your stupid computer . . . ” I watch in horror as Renee storms toward the top of the stairs, pulling back the arm that holds Jack’s secondhand laptop he saved his allowance for.
“Don’t you dare throw that,” I yell. “Because if you do, you’re gonna pay for it.”
Renee rolls her eyes, growls, and puts it on the floor. “Here’s your stupid computer. Don’t even think about goin’ back in my room, or I’ll—” She clamps her mouth shut and looks down at me.
“You’ll what?” Jack taunts.
“Jack, pick up your computer and go to your room right this minute.” I point my finger at Renee. “And don’t take anything else without askin’ first.”
When I rejo
in the reunion committee, I notice looks of pity on all their faces. Celeste even tries to be nice. “Looks like you got your hands full, Laura. Why don’t I make the place cards?”
“I was gonna hand-letter ’em.” I can’t give up without at least a hint of an argument.
“I can do that . . . ” She looks at the men before turning back to me. “Not as good as you, of course, but I don’t think no one will much care.”
“Okay, here ya go.” I shove the box of place cards in her direction, trying not to let ’em see me hyperventilating. It’s hard for me to give up so much control, but I know I have to do it, or everything will get all wacky on me again.
After they leave, I go back to the kitchen and pour myself another cup of coffee. Then I sit down at the table and try to organize my thoughts, but too many things remind me of the last reunion, and I feel paralyzed.
When Pete was in the hospital with alcohol poisoning five years ago, we both had to spend time with the counselor, who gave both of us some things to work on. I thought my part was silly, but I was willing to do whatever it took to help Pete get better. He’s not drinking quite as much as he used to, but he still hasn’t given it up. The counselor said even a sip is too much for Pete, considering he’s an alcoholic and all, but as long as he doesn’t drive after drinking or hurt any of us, I can live with a little bit of drinking. After all, like Pete reminds me all the time, he was a drinker before we got married, and I knew that going in. It took a while for him to get his license back, so I had to carry him everywhere he went. Every once in a while, if I was up to my elbows in something, he’d take the car a short distance, being careful to stay off the main roads so as not to let any of Piney Point’s finest see him.
He has his license back, but they’re still watching him like a hawk, and he knows it. That’s why I expect him to call me this afternoon to come get him from Trey’s. One thing is a given: there will be drinking when he and his friends get together.
22
Priscilla
I arrive at the salon first thing Monday morning and find Jackie waiting for me in the reception area. She stands and smiles when I walk in.
“Hey.” I motion for her to sit back down, and I join her. “Any news yet?”
“This is one of those good-news-not-so-good-news things.”
“What’s up?”
“The preliminary report on the fire is that it started when the electricity was turned on. Apparently, some of the . . . ” She shudders. “The rodents had chewed through the wiring.”
“Good thing no one was in the building at the time.” I pause long enough to see that she’s squirming. “So what’s the bad . . . er, not-so-good news?”
“The historical society wants more of an investigation, since it would have cost a small fortune to retrofit the building to almost any business that bought it.”
I feel a headache coming on. “So what are they saying, that I started the fire?”
“No, they’re not saying that at all. They just want to make sure the report is accurate.”
“So what do you recommend we do now?”
She whips some papers from her briefcase and presents them to me. “Submit a fresh contract and let’s try to get them to agree to the same price as soon as possible . . . at least before someone else offers more to purchase the land now that it’s vacant.”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
Jackie tilts her head, smiles, and slowly nods. “Okay, but not too long.”
“How about until tomorrow morning?”
“I’ll be here first thing in the morning. If you decide earlier than that, you know how to get in touch with me.”
I have two morning appointments that should keep me busy and my mind on something besides the new location, but that doesn’t happen once Sheila and Chester start talking about it. Even my clients chime in.
“If you know you need to expand, and that’s the only place available, why wait?” my second client says.
Chester nods so hard Sheila teases him and says if he keeps it up his head might fall off. “We know that’s where we need to be. I even dreamed about it last night, and you know what happens when I dream about stuff.”
“Yeah,” Sheila says, cutting her gaze over to me. “It means you’re gonna drive us crazy with every last detail.”
Chester places his knuckles on his hip, bobs his head and pouts his lips. “It means, my friend, that we’re supposed to be there. That place is perfect for the Cut ’n Curl, and you know it.”
I take another snip of my client’s hair as she starts her spiel about why I need to sign the contract. “I’ve always wanted to get pampered at a day spa, and when I heard your plans, I talked to my bridge group, and they were talkin’ about havin’ a spa day every month.”
This conversation the three of us had a few days ago wasn’t a cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die secret discussion, but I would have preferred they didn’t discuss it with clients. Oh well, too late for that now that my client’s bridge group knows.
By noon, I know what I need to do. I call Jackie, and she doesn’t hesitate to drop everything to bring the contract for me to sign.
“You’ll be so happy you did this,” she says as she drops the paperwork into her briefcase on her way out the door.
I sure hope she’s right. My head is still spinning at the speed of my decision. I’ve always been one to act fairly quickly, but never without considerable thought and prayer, which reminds me. I bow my head and pray that the Lord will guide me through whatever He has in mind for me, in spite of my lack of attention to Him.
“Honey, I’ve been prayin’ for you all along,” Sheila says when I open my eyes. “I know you think you’re alone in all this, but trust me when I tell you we’ll stick by you no matter what.”
My eyes mist as I nod. “Thank you, Sheila. It’s nice to know you’re right there with me.”
“It isn’t easy bein’ you.” She gives me a hug. “Folks might think just because you’re a successful businesswoman you don’t have any doubts, but I know better.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“No, not really. If I didn’t understand human nature you’d have me fooled, but no one is always one hundred percent self-assured.”
“Thank you, Sheila.” We lock gazes, and I feel the love flowing between us. She’s one of my favorite people in the entire world. She’s not old enough to be like a mother to me, so I guess I can say she’s like an older sister I never had.
Once my afternoon appointments start, the rest of the day goes by quickly. I walk through the door of my parents’ house—or more appropriately these days, Mother’s house—only to be confronted by the woman who has never approved of my business. “So you’re actually going through with it, I hear.”
I close my eyes for a moment to catch my breath and to prevent an outburst I’ll later regret. “If you’re talking about purchasing the ice factory property, yes, I do have a contract on it.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why are you doing this? I can understand some of your other decisions. You’ve always been the rebellious daughter, but this is beyond any of your other pranks.”
Now I can’t let it go. “Prank? You think this is a prank? Mother, I’ve done quite well, and it’s because I know what I’m doing.” Some of my earlier doubt creeps up on me, but I quash it.
“You do realize that if you’re in over your head, and I think you are this time, your father and I aren’t in a position to bail you out.”
That does it. I can’t let her continue talking to me like this. “Mother, I love you, and that’ll never change, but one thing I need to remind you is that I’ve never asked you to bail me out of anything.” I speak with a firmer voice than I’ve ever used with my parents, and for a moment, fear flows through me.
She blinks, but my comment doesn’t prevent her from continuing. “This is a huge mistake, Priscilla.”
“Maybe so, but it’ll be my mistake.”
“I think this is a very bad business decision.” Mother obviously doesn’t know when to stop. “Even your father agrees with me on this.”
Laughter escapes my throat. “How can you and Dad talk about my business when you can’t even fix your own marriage?”
A flash of anger darts from her eyes. “Our marriage is none of your business, Priscilla.”
“Oh, but I disagree. You and Dad are my family. Y’all are all the family I know, thanks to the fact that both of you have tried so hard to keep me from getting to know most of my relatives. Y’all even limited the amount of time I could spend with my own grandmother.”
Mother’s chin quivers as she sinks into the chair behind her. “I only wanted what was best for you. Your father and I always wanted you to have a good education so you wouldn’t wind up in a bad way.”
I close the distance between us and kneel down by her side. “You and Dad did a good job of showing me that it’s possible to follow my dreams as long as I work hard. That’s what y’all did, and that’s what I’ve done.”
“But . . . ” Mother looks at me with tears in her eyes.
I can’t let her say something she’ll regret, so I squeeze her hand and speak before she has a chance to finish her thought. “But we have different dreams. You and Dad shared the dream of getting advanced degrees and teaching college, and y’all both accomplished that. My dream is to have a successful business that will continue to grow as long as I’m able to make it happen. I love what I do, just like you and Dad love what y’all do.”
Mother swallows hard and blinks. “We used to, but I’m not so sure anymore.” She pats my hand as her expression softens. “You’ve had a long day, sweetie. Why don’t we have some supper and watch a little TV?”
I can’t remember the last time I watched TV, and I don’t really want to now, but I don’t want to let the opportunity to spend more time with Mother slip by. She’s obviously down, and if it’s something that’ll make her happy, I’ll do it.
