Bless Her Heart

by Debby Mayne

  I’d really like to call down for room service, but after all Tim has done for me, I can’t very well turn him down. “I’d love—.”

  My cell phone rings, interrupting me. It’s Mandy.

  “Hey, Priscilla.” She lets out a loud squeal. “You did it! I am so happy for you I could spit!”

  “I did what?”

  “Oh, the people from TVNS just called and said they wanted to see you first thing in the morning. They love the product, and they want to discuss packaging.”

  I can tell she’s jumping around in her seat, and the mental image makes me laugh. “Are you sure? They said they needed to discuss it at length.”

  “Positive. Mr. Waddell said after the miracle you worked during that meetin’, they’d be foolish not to choose your products.” She giggles. “Ms. Prissy Big Hair? How did you come up with that?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “It just came to me while I was presenting. So what do I need to do now?”

  Tim stands silently as I jot down the information. After I hang up with Mandy, he grins and opens his arms wide. “I knew you had ’em as soon as you opened your mouth.”

  “Thank you so much for believing in me, Tim.” Tears spring to my eyes. “Why don’t you hang out in the lobby while I go up to my room and get ready for dinner? It won’t take me long.”

  “I have to run an errand, but I’ll be right back. How long do you need?”

  “Half hour?”

  He nods. “That’s fine. Call my cell phone when you’re almost ready, and I’ll be down here waitin’ for you.”

  I go up to my room and call my parents. When Mother answers, I ask her to get Dad on the extension. “Hey, honey, we’re really sorry about . . . well, you know, all that talk about wantin’ you to follow our dreams, and . . . ”

  “Mother, don’t worry about it. I understand. You only want what’s best for me.”

  “Suzanne, I think our daughter has something to tell us. She called us, remember?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, honey.”

  “Mother,” I pause. “Dad, I just heard that TVNS wants me to bring my new product, Ms. Prissy Big Hair, to their network. I’ll be on air, selling this line to thousands, maybe even millions of women.”

  Silence falls over the line before Dad clears his throat. “Ms. Prissy Big Hair?”

  “What in the world is that?” Mother asks. “Have you lost your mind?”

  A laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Absolutely, and I’m gonna have a blast showing millions of women how to increase the volume of their hair.”

  Mother and Dad let out a collective sigh. “I suppose we should have expected something like this,” Mother says. “At any rate, Priscilla, we’re proud of you, no matter what career path you take. You’ve always had a mind of your own, even when you were a newborn. Did I ever tell you about—?”

  “Mother, I have to run. Tim is picking me up in a few minutes, and we’re going to dinner.”

  After I hang up with my parents, I call Sheila. “Yes, I know, I heard. Mandy just called with the news.”

  We talk about the name of the product, and unlike my parents, Sheila says she and Chester think the name Ms. Prissy Big Hair is brilliant. I hear Chester whooping in the background.

  I don’t have much time to get ready after we hang up, so I just freshen my makeup, fluff my hair, and swap my blazer for a sparkly sweater. Then I call Tim.

  “I’ll be waitin’,” he says.

  As I ride down in the elevator, I feel as though I’m hovering a few inches off the floor. We get to the lobby, and the door opens. There stands Tim, beaming from ear to ear, holding a bouquet of flowers toward me. The woman behind me whispers loudly to the man beside her. “I think he’s about to propose.” That makes me giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” Tim asks.

  I take the flowers and kiss him on the cheek. “I’m the happiest girl in New York.”

  Tim extends his elbow, and I place my hand in the crook of his arm. “And you’ll be the most successful girl in New York very soon. So where would you like to go for dinner?”

  I let go of his arm, hand him the bouquet, and lift my hands over my head, palms up. “Somewhere really high in the sky!”

  Tim laughs. “Looks like you’re already there, Priscilla.”

  I give him a huge hug and back away, leaving him standing there with a dopey look on his face. “And I’ll stay up there in the clouds until the next class reunion, when there’s no doubt someone will yank me right back down.”

  “You’re such a glutton for punishment for goin’, but I totally get it.”

  “I know you do, and that’s why you’ll probably be there too.”

  Tim shrugs and takes my hand. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

  Discussion Questions

  1. After the events surrounding the ten-year reunion, why do you think Priscilla wanted to go back for the fifteenth? Would you have gone if you were in her shoes?

  2. Why do you think Tim continues to have hope for a relationship with Priscilla?

  3. Do you think there’s hope for Laura and Pete’s marriage? What advice would you give them?

  4. Have you ever known a woman like Celeste, who goes from being dowdy to attractive after a makeover? Did anything change besides her appearance?

  5. Do you think Trudy is changing? If so, is it for the good? What do you think Trudy is looking for in life? Will she find it?

  6. How is Priscilla’s relationship with her mother changing? Do you think she’ll ever win her mother’s full approval?

  7. Why do you think it’s so important for Laura to go to Pete’s cousin’s wedding? How does this tie in to other aspects of her life?

  8. What are your thoughts about Celeste and Jimmy’s relationship?

  9. How do you see Priscilla’s office manager, Mandy, developing? Would you put confidence in an assistant who has made the mistakes she has? Why do you think Priscilla has kept her?

  10. Piney Point is a small town. Do you think it can support the new salon and day spa? Would you go there to get pampered?

  11. Do you relate to any of the characters in this series? If so, who and why?

  12. Laura’s life is a whirlwind of chaos, so why does she constantly nitpick grammar with her kids and husband?

  If you enjoyed Bless Her Heart, you will love all three books in Debby Mayne’s Class Reunion series: Pretty Is as Pretty Does, Bless Her Heart, and Tickled Pink. Here’s a bonus chapter from the final book of the series, Tickled Pink.

  1

  Priscilla Slater

  Laura and Pete Moss are happy to announce

  Piney Point High School’s

  Twenty-year Reunion

  on June 15, 2013, at 7:00 PM

  in the brand-new Piney Point Community Center

  Multipurpose Room.

  Attire: Casual

  RSVP: Laura or Pete Moss 601-555-1515

  Note: There will be no preparty.

  As I hold onto the twenty-year reunion invitation I picked up before leaving Jackson, I look out over the Atlantic Ocean and reflect on the last two high school reunions. Things sure have changed for me in the five years that have passed. I not only have managed to become a household name among TV retail shoppers who desire to have the coveted southern-woman big hair but also own townhomes and condos in several places along the path of my chain of hair salons. I’ve put so much work into attaining my ultimate dream I sometimes forget to thank the Lord for all He’s blessed me with. So I close my eyes and send up a quick prayer of gratitude before backing away from the view and heading toward the kitchen where my microwaved dinner is almost done. I might have hit my business success goal, but some things haven’t changed—one of them being my lack of time to cook meals. Besides, what’s the point? It’ll take me an hour to cook a meal that I can eat in ten minutes, and then I’m left with a mess to clean up.

  As soon as the microwave dings, I grab a potholder and pull out the plastic tray with steam risin
g from the corner where I’ve vented the cellophane. I place it on the counter, lean over it, and inhale, trying to imagine it being a nutritious, home-cooked meal. But that’s impossible because all I smell is preservative-laced gravy. Maybe I should go back to my old nightly salad-from-a-bag.

  Ten minutes later, the plastic tray is empty, and I’m left with a hollow feeling in my stomach and emptiness in my heart. You’d think that with all I’ve acquired over the past thirteen years I’d be on top of the world, kicking up my feet, celebrating my immense success. But I’m not. Most nights I sit in one of my townhouses or a hotel room, alone with my paperwork or one of my guilty-pleasure reality shows on TV. Or both.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful that I’ve managed to accomplish so much. But there are times when certain aspects of a simple life in my hometown of Piney Point, Mississippi, appeals to me. Then I come to my senses.

  I’ve never been one of those girls whose dreams consisted of getting married, having children, and settling for whatever came my way. Instead, I went after whatever I wanted with the focus and tenacity of a shark, until I got it. Then I set my sights on something else. Besides, after experiencing the realization that my parents’ marriage wasn’t what it appeared to be, I know that my image of home is just window dressing that disguises harsh realities. But that doesn’t stop some of the longing for a more normal life, whatever that is.

  It takes me all of thirty seconds to clean my sparkling chrome-and-black kitchen before I pick up the class reunion invitation on my way back to the tone-on-tone white and ivory living room. A smile plays on my lips as a brief image of one of Pete and Laura’s children in one of my homes flits through my mind, and then I grimace. No telling what they’d do to my perfectly ordered life. Thoughts like that should make me happy I don’t have children, but lately . . . well, it’s simply not happening, so what’s the point of wondering what could’ve been. All the “what ifs” in the world won’t change a thing. And besides, this is what I’ve wanted all my adult life, so I order myself to stop with those thoughts and get back to the task at hand. I have less than a week to list and send the features and benefits of my newly updated hair volumizing system that includes everything a girl needs to have the “Ms. Prissy Big Hair” style. The TV Network Shopping channel has me on their regular schedule now, so even that has become so routine I can turn most of the preliminary work over to my long-time assistant Mandy. But I need something relaxing to do right now, so I sit down with my laptop and tap out my list as I half-watch the second-most dysfunctional family I’ve ever seen holler at each other on TV. I wonder if they do that when the cameras aren’t rolling. Too bad the network doesn’t know about Laura and Pete Moss’s family, or they’d likely be filming in Piney Point rather than L.A.

  Five years ago, Bonnie Sue Moss, the third of Laura’s four children, got busted shoplifting a skirt from La Boutique in Hattiesburg. When I offered to go back to the store with her, Laura accepted without a moment’s hesitation, in spite of the fact that she’s never even pretended to like me. On the way to the shop, we stopped off at the post office, where I was stunned by the fact that the preteen girl was embarrassed to be seen with me. However, her tune quickly changed when the manager of the store immediately forgave her because of my slight celebrity status. I’m not sure what lesson Bonnie Sue learned that day, but I’m afraid my plan might have backfired, and she came away with the idea that if someone is famous, she can get away with anything. Now she e-mails and texts me constantly, wanting advice on how to become a superstar. I’ve told her more than once to find her passion, set goals, and work hard. Too bad her passion is for people to be in awe of her existence. In the last text I got from her, she wanted to know whether she should go to L.A. or New York after she graduates and which place would make her more famous. I need to talk to her mother before giving her advice, so I still haven’t gotten back with her.

  The features and benefits of my product line are basically the same, only reworded to prevent sounding redundant. I’m about to click SEND when my phone rings. It’s Laura.

  “I was just thinking about you,” I tell her.

  “Why are you answering your own phone?”

  “Huh?”

  “I thought famous people hired folks to answer their phone.”

  I’ve heard that Laura Moss has grown into her own skin, but from what I can tell, that maturity ends when I’m involved. “So what do you need?”

  “Just wanted to find out if you’re coming to the reunion.”

  “Yes, I’ll be there.”

  “Are you . . . will you be bringing Tim?”

  I suspect that’s the purpose of the call, since my good friend, former ardent admirer, and favorite beauty supply salesman, Tim Puckett, has not only attended the previous class reunions with me but also singlehandedly moved mountains to make sure things ran smoothly. I don’t know what Laura would have done without Tim.

  “I haven’t spoken with him in a few weeks, but I can ask.”

  “Can you let me know what he says?” I detect a hint of desperation in her voice.

  “Why don’t you call him?” I say.

  Laura snickers. “I don’t have the same clout you have. In case you haven’t figured it out, that boy will do anything you want him to.”

  “Seems he takes orders from you quite well, Laura.” I have a hard time keeping the snarkiness from my voice. This woman brings out the worst in me, which is one excellent reason I don’t need to stay on the phone with her any longer than necessary.

  “Just let me know what he says, okay? Oh, and while you’re at it, ask if he can come a week early.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  After I hang up, I have to take a couple of deep breaths to calm down. Ever since I started building my business empire, I’ve managed to stay calm enough to buy and open nearly a hundred hair salons, including a couple that are full-service day spas. I’m one of the regulars on TVNS with a line of products that sell out every single time I’m on air. But one short conversation with Laura sends me into a dither that takes hours to recover from.

  I get up and go to the kitchen for a glass of water, and my phone rings again. This time it’s Tim.

  “Have you gotten your invitation yet?”

  By now I’m used to the fact that Tim gets my class news before me. He’s super connected through my Piney Point salon, which has turned into Prissy’s Cut ’n Curl and Ice Factory Day Spa. After Sheila and Chester confronted me about how we’d outgrown our old location, I made it my mission to find a better place. The historic Ice Factory had potential, so when I had the electricity turned on for the inspection, rodent-chewed wires caused a fire. I wound up paying more for the vacant lot than I would have if the building had been salvageable. But then I saved money on building from scratch rather than renovating to historical society regulations.

  “Priscilla?” His voice has softened to practically a whisper. “Are you still there?”

  “Um, yeah. I got the invitation. So do you want to go with me again? I mean, I can totally understand if you can’t, considering how busy you are with your new position and all.”

  He laughs. “I’ve been regional sales manager for three years, so I can handle it. Besides, I’m due for some time off.”

  “If you don’t mind wasting it on my class reunion, I’d love for you to attend as my guest.”

  “You sure know how to sweet talk a guy, Priscilla. I’d be delighted to escort you to your class reunion. And I’ll get there a week early to help Laura.”

  “Good. That was my next question. I’ll need to call her and let her know.”

  “Tell you what,” he says. “I’ll call her to save the extra step. No point in everything going through you . . . that is, unless you want to be the middleman, er, woman.”

  “No, that’s fine. Please feel free to call her. I’m sure she’ll have plenty for you to do.”

  Again, he laughs. “Yeah, I’d pretty much bet my next paycheck on that.”
He clears his throat. “Not that I’m a bettin’ man or anything. I don’t want you to think—”

  “No, I know what you’re saying. Thanks, Tim.”

  “Just makin’ sure. Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be back in Jackson in a few days. Mind if I stop by and take you to breakfast?”

  “Sounds good.” My phone beeps, letting me know I have another call. “It was great talking to you, Tim. Gotta run.”

  I click over to the next call. It’s my mother, and she doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

  “When are you arriving for your reunion?”

  “I haven’t had much of a chance to think about it, with the TV work and all.”

  I hear a low grunt, reminding me that my mother disapproves of my chosen career, in spite of my success. “You know you’re welcome to stay here, but I’ll need to know when to plan on your arrival.”

  “Probably a week or two, depending on what all Laura needs from me.”

  “You’ll have to give me an exact date, or I can’t guarantee your room will be ready.”

  Rather than ask why I have to worry about my old room being ready since I’m the only person who ever stays in it, I agree to let her know. “If it’s not convenient, I can stay in a hotel. I really don’t mind.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Priscilla. How would it look for me to let my only child stay in a hotel?”

  “I guess it wouldn’t look good.” I pause. “How’s Dad? Have you spoken to him lately?”

  “Don’t go getting the notion that your father and I will ever get back together. Our divorce has been final a good two years, and we’ve been separated for six. There’s—”

  “No, Mother, I don’t have any such notion. I was just asking a simple question.”

  “Are you getting smart with me, Priscilla? Because if you are, I want you to know that even though you’re a big shot on that silly network, you’re still my daughter.”

  My breath is ragged as I slowly inhale. “No, I just wondered if you’ve talked to Dad.”