Bless Her Heart

by Debby Mayne

  Chester slowly shakes his head. “I don’t know. That name don’t make me wanna pick up my phone and place an order for it.”

  “You two are silly.” Sheila lifts the section of her client’s hair that she’d dropped and starts whacking away with her shears. “What does a name really matter?”

  Chester waves his comb in the air. “Oh, it matters, honey. The name is everything.”

  “Then think about your customer. Who do you think would wanna buy it?”

  Her client lifts a finger. “I will. How much is it gonna cost?”

  “Seriously?” I lean over, get a good look at the woman’s face, and see that I’m talking to Trudy’s mother. “Hey, Mrs. Shallowford. I didn’t recognize you.”

  “That’s ’cause I went red.” She pats her half-cut hair. “Do you like it?”

  I lean back and study the overall effect. “Yes, I actually do. So you’d consider buying something from TVNS if it promised to add volume to your hair?”

  “Of course. After I hit the menopause, my hair started thinnin’ out.”

  Sheila nods. “I told her not to brush her hair so much, but she still insists on doin’ that hundred strokes thing every night.”

  “I’ve done that all my life. My mama always told me it made your hair shiny.” She flinches as Sheila turns her head to get to a section on the other side.

  “With all the color we put on your hair, it’s brittle and damaged. Brushing it causes it to snap like a bunch of little twigs.”

  “Do you mind if I take a look?” I step up and inspect her hair before either of them has a chance to respond. “How about we get her started on the hair volumizing system right now?”

  Sheila gives me a curious look. “Do we still have some?”

  I nod, cup my hand, and whisper, “Not packaged yet. It’s just my special conditioning shampoo, leave-in conditioner, root builder, and gizmo that lifts the hair at the crown. Once I’m sure what I’m gonna call it, I’ll get new packaging.”

  “I’ll be glad to work it into your hair,” Sheila says.

  “How much is it?” Mrs. Shallowford says.

  I lean over. “How much would you be willing to pay for it?”

  She says a sum that’s way too high, so she’s happy when I give her an amount that is much more affordable. Chester’s customer asks if she should try it too. Chester nods his agreement and gives me a thumbs-up sign in the mirror.

  “Hey Priscilla!”

  The sound of Jackie’s voice coming toward me grabs my attention. I motion for her to follow me as I head to the back room. Once we’re in there, she squeals.

  “What?”

  She puts down her briefcase, puts her hands on my shoulders, and looks me in the eye as she nearly jumps out of her fancy suit. “I just heard from the sellers. They want to hurry up and make this deal, so they’ve decided to go back to your original offer.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  Jackie chuckles. “Do you know who has owned that place for the past six years?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been away so long I have no idea.”

  “Remember Mrs. McArthur?”

  “Are you talking about the business teacher who retired right after I graduated?” I sink down in the chair at the table. “I thought the sellers were—”

  Jackie interrupts me. “It’s been in her husband’s family for forty years. Until today, she was letting her son handle the transaction, but when she found out that you’re about to make a deal on TVNS, she got all excited and said she can’t risk losing this deal just for a little extra money.”

  I cringe at the mention of TVNS, knowing I shouldn’t be surprised that word is out. “But why?”

  Jackie shrugs. “She loves shopping on TVNS. Says she gets the best deals when they have their ‘Today Only’ sales.”

  “I still don’t understand why that makes any difference.”

  “Wait ’til you hear what her new terms are. Once you’re on TVNS, she says all she wants is a chance to meet her favorite show host, and she’ll be happy for the rest of her life.”

  “What if I don’t get on TVNS?”

  Jackie shrugs. “I told her it’s not a done deal yet, but she said she’s willin’ to take that chance if you’ll agree to the terms.”

  This is such a strange request I don’t know what to say. “Let me get a better feel for things when I go up there this week, and I’ll let you know.”

  “Sounds fair. I’ll tell her you’ll get back with her by . . . ” She turns her hands palms up. “When will you know?”

  “Soon I hope. They want me to present my products to all the execs on Thursday. I’m up against two other strong contenders, and they can only choose one more new product line.”

  Jackie claps her hands and squeals again. “If anyone can do it, you can. And I can’t wait to see you on TV.”

  “Tell you what. Let Mrs. McArthur know that if I get on TVNS, I’ll take her with me on one of my trips.”

  “She’ll be over-the-moon happy about that.” Jackie pulls a stack of papers from her briefcase. “Why don’t you go ahead and sign this so I can get the ball rolling.”

  I do as she asks. After she leaves, I say good-bye to all my Piney Point employees.

  Chester waves. “Break a leg, Priscilla.”

  39

  Tim

  So good to see you, Tim.” Aunt Tammy gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re lookin’ a tad tired.”

  Priscilla’s reunion wore me out, but I don’t reckon it’s necessary to go on about that. As it is, Uncle Hugh and Aunt Tammy think I’ve wasted too much time trying to get Priscilla to fall in love with me. I admit they’re probably right. I spent the first three years I knew the woman trying to show her why she needed me. But after her last reunion, I knew the spark just plain wasn’t there for her. You might wonder why I went back to her fifteenth reunion, and I get it. I’m one of those guys who likes to feel needed, and, boy howdy, do those folks need me—especially Laura Moss. If it weren’t for me, I don’t know what they’d do. I suspect if I don’t have a wife in five years, you’re likely to find me at Priscilla’s twenty-year reunion, doing the same thing I done for the other two.

  Aunt Tammy leads the way to the room they let me stay in when I’m in New York City. Uncle Hugh’s been wanting to buy a house on Long Island, but Aunt Tammy don’t wanna sell their place in Mississippi. Besides, she puts up a good argument, saying what’s the point in living in New York if you can’t be close to everything? So they rent this big ol’ house on Staten Island. “I can walk anywhere I need to go,” Aunt Tammy brags, “and when I wanna go to Manhattan, all I have to do is hop on the ferry.”

  Daddy and Uncle Hugh was born and raised in Pearl, a suburb of Jackson, which is as close to big-city livin’ as you’re gonna get in Mississippi. Aunt Tammy comes from Ellisville, a country town where folks often forget to lock their doors at night. Needless to say, moving to New York was rather traumatic for her.

  “You got fresh sheets, Tim. Jerry should be home in about an hour, so why don’t you put your things away and come on into the kitchen and keep me company while I cook supper?”

  I find comfort in Aunt Tammy’s relaxing voice and slow manner of speaking, but I often wonder how she manages to get around in the craziness of the big city. After putting my bags in the guest room, I head into the kitchen.

  “Have a seat.” She points to a chair. “I was just getting the spoon rolls ready for the oven. Want some tea?”

  “Sounds good.” No one makes sweet tea better’n Aunt Tammy . . . not even my own mama.

  “So tell me all about why you’re here.” She sets the tea down on the table before sitting down in the chair next to me. “I hear Priscilla Slater is about to go national.”

  I fill Aunt Tammy in on what’s going on with Priscilla, trying my hardest to downplay how excited I am for her. No point in acting like I think there’s any hope for me and Priscilla in the romance department.


  Aunt Tammy goes back and forth between the stove and the table as we catch up on each other’s lives. When Uncle Hugh arrives, he comes at me with his arms open wide. He’s still a southern boy deep down, but I can see the city’s effects on his face. He’s not quite so easy to read these days.

  “I can’t believe I sold her the rights on that product line.” Uncle Hugh shakes his head. “But at least she’s doin’ somethin’ with it, and she’s still buying it from me.”

  Years ago, after Uncle Hugh failed to place a new line of products in the salons, he decided to discontinue it. At the same time, Priscilla was looking for something that would be exclusive to her shops, so she made Uncle Hugh an offer he couldn’t turn down. Another thing I love about her is she never tried to cut him out of the deal, even though at the time he probably would’ve been okay with that. Now women all over the southeast go to the Cut ’n Curl to purchase the products, even if they get their hair done somewhere else. Uncle Hugh keeps saying that Priscilla Slater is a powerhouse in beauty, and she’s a marketing genius.

  After dinner, the three of us clean the kitchen, and Aunt Tammy excuses herself to go watch her TV shows. Uncle Hugh points to the chair. “Sit down, boy. We need to talk.”

  We start out discussing some of the products we sell, but I know what this is really all about. Finally, he gets to the point.

  “When are you gonna stop chasin’ after that woman?”

  “Uncle Hugh, Priscilla and I are friends. I’m just tryin’ to show my support.” I pause. “Besides, you and Aunt Tammy tell me I don’t get up to New York often enough.”

  “True, but we want you to settle down. Find yourself a good woman who loves everything about you, and your life will be as good as it can get.”

  “I know.” I fiddle with the napkin holder. “I’ll start workin’ on it when I get back to Jackson. In the meantime, I plan to be there for Priscilla to celebrate if she’s successful or listen to her if they turn her down.”

  The shield has faded from Uncle Hugh’s face as he grins. “You’re a good boy, Tim.”

  I go to my room and call Priscilla. “Can you meet me at the coffee shop on the corner at eight?” she asks. “I’m nervous, Tim.”

  “You’ll do just fine.” I’m nervous for her, but I don’t let on. She needs to only hear my good thoughts. “I’ll see you there at eight.”

  After a good night’s sleep and only waking up once to the sound of sirens whizzing by, I follow the smell of bacon all the way to the kitchen. Aunt Tammy points to the coffeepot and instructs me to help myself. Uncle Hugh has already gone to the office, so it’s just the two of us. She sits down with me while I eat.

  “Tell Priscilla I said hi and to break a leg.” She giggles. “That’s supposed to be good luck before a performance.”

  “I’ll tell her.” I carry my plate to the sink. “I don’t wanna be late, so I better run.”

  Not quite an hour later, I walk into the coffee shop and see Priscilla sitting in a booth near the door. She waves and motions me over. The table in front of her is covered with papers, and she has a frantic look in her eyes.

  “Everything will turn out just fine, Priscilla.” I pat her hand.

  She looks into my eyes. “Promise?”

  I hate making promises, but I know she’ll come out a winner, even if the TVNS executives don’t choose her product. I rack my brain trying to find some comforting words, then I remember something important. “Why don’t we say a prayer before you go in?”

  Her eyebrows go up, a grin spreads over her lips, and she slowly nods. “Good idea, Tim. Who would have thought you’d be the one to remind me to pray?”

  After we close our eyes, I start a prayer—awkward but heartfelt—and she finishes. I notice a much more peaceful look on her face after we say our amens.

  “Thank you, Tim. You’re the best.” She stacks up all the papers, clips them together, and drops them into the big ol’ fancy tote Uncle Hugh gave her. “Ready to go?”

  I nod. “Ready as ever.”

  “It’s show time.”

  As soon as we walk into the reception area of TVNS, I see two other groups of people waiting. Priscilla stiffens her back as she leads me to a corner.

  “I wonder if they’re my competitors,” she whispers.

  One of the groups has what looks like a kitchen gadget sitting on the table in front of ’em. A man is mouthing some words and practicing some gestures while a woman keeps interrupting him and giving him more instruction. The other group is doing the opposite—sitting all silent and appearing real nervous.

  “Looks like they just might be. Do you wanna practice what you’re gonna say?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I don’t have a canned presentation. I just have notes, and I want it to come across as natural as possible.”

  “Okay then.” If it were me, I would have had my whole speech wrote out and made cue cards for myself. But Priscilla does things her own way, and it always works for her.

  A woman comes up from the back. “Would the Kitchen Do-All group please follow me?”

  Priscilla’s hands get real still. I want to reach for them and hold onto her, but I don’t. She knows what she needs, and if she wants me to hold her hand, she’ll let me know.

  We sit there waiting for nearly an hour before the Kitchen Do-All folks come out pumping their fists, looking all happy. I hold my breath to keep from saying anything. Priscilla smiles at the woman who gives her a possum-eatin’ grin.

  Priscilla is up next. “Want me in there with you?” I ask. She wasn’t sure where I should be when we discussed it earlier.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. That’s what I’m here for.” My heart sings as I hop up and follow her down the long hall and into the boardroom, where about a dozen folks are sittin’ around a big conference table.

  As we take our places, I survey the people to try to get an idea of what we’re facing. All the women are looking at Priscilla’s bag, and I can tell they know the brand. They’re smiling, but based on their expressions, I suspect they’d love to rough her up a bit. Uncle Hugh’s generosity is nice, but it sure can backfire at times like this. The men are looking at her pretty face then at me, probably wondering what I’m doin’ there.

  A woman stands up at the other end of the table and introduces Priscilla. “Next on the slate is Priscilla Slater. She has a packaged system designed to add volume to hair.” Without even cracking a smile, she turns to Priscilla. “So what is the name of your product, Ms. Slater?”

  Priscilla swallows hard, and I feel something drop in the pit of my stomach. Last I heard, she didn’t have a name picked out yet.

  “Big Hair,” she says softly before clearing her throat. “I’m calling my hair-volumizing system Ms. Prissy Big Hair.”

  A few of the people around the table laugh, and I want to hop up and smack ’em. Didn’t their mama’s ever tell ’em it ain’t polite to laugh in people’s faces?

  Instead of acting insulted, Priscilla surprises me and laughs along with ’em. “This is exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” she says. “The beauty industry is a seriously lucrative business, but we can still have fun with it. My goal is to show women how to enjoy celebrating their beauty as they make the most with what they have.”

  From that moment on, I can tell that Priscilla has the entire group where she wants them. They hang on her every word, and she works ’em like puppets.

  40

  Priscilla

  Adrenaline has flowed so fast and hard that the second we step out of the meeting room I’m limp as a rag. Tim is right there beside me as always, grinning like a proud parent.

  He leans over and whispers, “You did great, Priscilla. I don’t know how you did it, but you had them folks mesmerized.”

  “I did?” I flash back to the moment when I had to come up with a name for the system. I’d been toying with several ideas, and what I blurted surprised even me. The instant Ms. Prissy Big Hai
r tumbled out of my mouth, I knew there was no going back.

  “Yeah, you did. What I can’t believe is how you jumped right up and did that woman’s hair. You didn’t look nervous.”

  “Oh, but I was.”

  Tim laughs. “I thought that executive woman would have a coronary when the man beside her asked if you’d be able to do somethin’ with her hair.”

  “I know. Did you see how his hair is thinning? I thought about asking him if he’d like me to work on his hair too.”

  “Good thing you didn’t.”

  “You’re so right, but the thought distracted me enough to keep my hands from shaking right off my arms.”

  “When you got done with that VP woman, she looked a-MA-zing.”

  Nodding, I agree. “She really did.” I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way she studied her reflection in the handheld mirror I gave her. When she looked back at me, I knew she loved the way she looked.

  “She knew it too.” Tim places his hand in the small of my back. “Now all we can do is wait until they make their decision.”

  I glance at my watch. “We went over the allotted time, and I figure the next presentation will be at least an hour. Then they’ll have to deliberate . . . ” I make a face. “This could take weeks.”

  “I don’t think so.” He smiles down at me. “I think they’ll make their decision very soon.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  Tim shrugs. “We can go have lunch, or if you’re not hungry, we can walk around the city and see the sights.”

  I’m glad Tim is with me. He’s about the only person on earth who truly understands me, and he’s so comfortable to be around—exactly what I need after that presentation.

  As we walk around the city, going from one tourist trap to another, I get momentary giddy feelings that create tingling sensations from my head to the tips of my toes. And every time this happens, Tim smiles, letting me know he’s aware of the tension crackling inside me.

  “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” he asks as he walks me to the elevator of my hotel.