The Sisters Café

by Carolyn Brown

  There was no way in hell Agnes was going to a wedding with her roots showing. Violet would definitely be invited, since she was the head she-coon of Grayson County and the president of the Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society. Wild horses couldn’t keep her away from a social function, and if her roots were showing, it might hinder a vote. Ethan had lost the election, but it hadn’t slowed her down one bit. She was already talking about the next one.

  Agnes made an appointment with Ella to get her hair done and dyed. And to help Kayla out, she made arrangements for Marty, Cathy, Trixie, and Darla Jean to accompany her and have their nails done. It was not because she liked any of them, but poor Kayla needed money so she could get her full-fledged cosmetology license. Besides, since it was the night before the big wedding, if Violet was at the beauty shop, Agnes would need her spiritual adviser and her bodyguards. Two manicures was a small price to pay for that kind of protection.

  Ella and Kayla were looking at magazines when all five women traipsed in together. Ella, a tall thin woman with blond hair, laid her book to the side and went straight to the washing sink.

  The beauty shop wasn’t as big as Miss Clawdy’s pantry. Right inside the door to the left was Kayla’s nail salon station. Four folding chairs were lined up to the right. Between the chairs and two hair dryers, magazines were scattered on an old coffee table that Ella brought from her house. Behind Kayla’s nail desk, two beautician stations were situated. Across the back wall, two shampoo sinks were set up.

  “Who’s first?” Kayla asked.

  “Me,” Trixie said. “I want the French manicure.”

  The other three pulled chairs up around her and were picking out their fingernail polish from a wide assortment when the door opened and Violet breezed in. She went straight to the back, picked a floral duster off the rack, and put it on over her bright blue pantsuit.

  “Ella, I’ll need the complete workup today. Trim, wash, touch-up, and of course comb-out. Oh… my… God! What are you doing here?” she gasped when Agnes sat up.

  “Uh-oh!” Trixie said.

  When Agnes sat up, she and Violet were barely three feet from each other.

  “I’ll get Agnes’s touch-up started. While it’s setting, I’ll get yours washed,” Ella said.

  Violet backed up slowly and sunk down into a drier chair.

  “If they get into it, you get Aunt Agnes and I’ll corral Violet,” Cathy whispered to Marty.

  Marty nodded. “Darla Jean, you will help me, and Trixie, you help with Violet,” Marty said out of the corner of her mouth.

  Agnes Flynn had worn her shoulder-length hair ratted and styled up on her head in the same style for fifty years. It had been red from the day of her birth and had never thinned with age like some women’s had. She’d sworn when it started going gray that she’d come into the world a redhead and be damned if she wasn’t leaving the world the same way, so she’d started getting it dyed.

  Violet ignored everyone and looked at a magazine while Agnes got her “touch-up.” Then Ella motioned her back to the chair right opposite Agnes. She removed the pins from Violet’s hair, brushed all the rats out, and nodded toward the shampoo chair.

  “So how is Ethan?” Ella asked.

  “Just great. This was really just our trial run, you know. We didn’t expect to really win but next time, it will definitely be his year,” Violet said. “And he’s got a new lady friend. She seems nice, but she’s headstrong. I think that’s what happens when a woman reaches forty and still isn’t married. They get set in their ways. That’s why God intended that women get married young so that they are willing to do what their husband thinks is best.”

  “I don’t know,” Ella said. “Young girls this day and age aren’t mature enough to handle a house, kids, and a job, and it takes two incomes this day and age for a couple to get by. So is Ethan serious about her?”

  Violet whispered, “I’m afraid he is and she is two years older than my Ethan and she has gray hair! And she wears it down to her shoulders.”

  Ella rinsed the soap from Violet’s hair. “I’m seeing more of that. Women today don’t keep up with the old standard that gray hair should be worn up or cut off.”

  “It’s a shame,” Violet said. “But what is a mother to do? She is a political science professor and she’s mature. She wouldn’t ever be flighty and break it off with him over a…”

  Agnes cleared her throat loudly.

  Violet mumbled the rest of the sentence.

  Ella squeezed the water from Violet’s hair with a towel and said, “There you go. Now let’s go over to the chair and I’ll get those roots done. While you let them soak, I’ll get Agnes rolled and under the hood.

  Agnes could see every move in the mirror without actually looking right at Violet. That would be downright rude, and besides, the girls wouldn’t want to mess up their fingernails pulling them apart like they did at the football field.

  Didn’t Violet know that stovepipe black hair and the ratted flip look had gone out with the hippies? She’d moved forward with her dress style, but her hair still looked like shit.

  Agnes looked at her own hair in the mirror and made an instant decision. She was sick of wrapping it in toilet paper and putting that net over it every night. Sometimes her head itched between beauty shop appointments and she’d like to be able to shampoo it in the shower like the girls did theirs.

  “I want it cut today,” Agnes said.

  “It is due for a trim.” Ella finished with Violet and nodded toward the rinsing station.

  Agnes sat down and leaned her head back into the sink. Ella grabbed the sprayer and rinsed until the water ran clear and then draped a towel over her wet hair. “Okay, let’s go trim a couple of inches off and roll it up.”

  “No, I don’t want a trim. I want a full-fledged cut. I want it to look like that. No more rollers, just a couple of twists of the curling iron and a shot of hair spray.” Agnes pointed to a poster hanging above the mirror. The woman in the picture wore her hair cut in a stylish neckline with enough on top to fluff up a bit. Surely to hell it couldn’t be too hard to take care of that hair-do, and if it was she’d take her curling iron across the street and make one of the girls help her.

  “You sure about this, Agnes?”

  “Yes, I am. Cut it off!”

  “Aunt Agnes!” Cathy said. “Think about it. You’ve worn your hair ratted ever since I’ve known you.”

  “Yes, I have. But some of us can change with the times.”

  “Are you talking to or about me?” Violet said.

  “Of course I am. You look like shit with that hippie style. I don’t want to look like you so I’m getting my hair cut off short, and besides, I’m tired of messing with this ratted hair. Last week I killed a spider right above my head on the wall. What if that damned thing dropped down into my hair and built a nest? Why, it could kill me dead, and I’m not dying until after you do, so I know which way you go. So off it goes and if I don’t like it, it’s only hair, and it’ll grow back by next summer.”

  Ella picked up the scissors. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you sure, Agnes?”

  “If you don’t start cuttin’ pretty soon, I’ll go home and take the electric knife to it,” Agnes said.

  Ella made the first cut.

  Marty and Cathy held their breath.

  She cut some more.

  “I’m going to like it,” Trixie said. “It’ll take twenty years off you, Agnes. And it’ll be so much easier to fix.”

  Violet glared at the red hair falling on the floor. “You have lost your mind.”

  Marty cocked her head to one side. “Trixie is right. If you need someone to curl it and pick it out for you, I’ll do it.”

  “I’ll hold you to it, and if you are off shackin’ up whatever next sexy cowboy you chase down, then Darla Jean can do it. Trixie, you ain’t about to get
near me with a hot curling iron,” Agnes said.

  “Ah, come on, Agnes. If I miss and put a burn on your neck, all the girls at your Sunday school will think you got a hickey and they’ll be jealous,” Trixie teased.

  “I swear, Agnes, you do look younger. How does it feel?” Ella said.

  “No pins. No rats. Feels light and breezy. I wish to hell I’d done it years ago. Don’t be looking at me like that, Violet. You could never pull it off. Your hair is too thin and your face is too round. Accept it. You look twenty years older than I do. Just be careful about spiders getting close to you.”

  Violet had her mouth open to answer when the door burst open and Anna Ruth’s bawling preceded her into the room. Her hair was in little pink sponge rollers and she didn’t have a smidgen of makeup on her face.

  “Oh, Cathy, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s horrible. Just horrible. We can’t have the wedding.” She threw herself in a dryer chair and covered her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “What now? Did my church burn down?” Darla Jean asked.

  “Maybe God is trying to tell you that you shouldn’t marry Andy,” Trixie said.

  “No, he is not!” The weeping stopped and she shot dirty looks across the beauty shop at Trixie.

  “They get into it, me and Cathy will take Trixie. Darla Jean, you and Marty get a hold of Anna Ruth,” Agnes said loudly.

  “What’s the problem now?” Cathy asked.

  “My cousin was going to be my bridesmaid. She came to rehearsal and to our little private dinner at Aunt Annabel’s. She’s seven months pregnant and on the way home she went into premature la… bor,” she screeched.

  “And?” Trixie asked.

  “I don’t have a bridesmaid and I’ve got to have someone walk down the aisle before me and scatter the rose petals and hold my bouquet and take pictures with me and all that.”

  Cathy sighed.

  Marty shook her head.

  “So you want me to be your bridesmaid?” Cathy asked.

  “Nooo!”

  Cathy heaved a bigger sigh of relief.

  “You are too tall to ever fit into the bridesmaid’s dress. My cousin is my size.”

  “Then why in the hell are you in here carryin’ on like a dyin’ coyote?” Agnes asked.

  “I want Cathy to make Trixie be my bridesmaid. The dress will fit her,” Anna Ruth said.

  Trixie held up both palms. “You are crazy, woman. Andy would run out of the church if he saw me walking up the aisle.”

  “Does he even know you are here?” Agnes asked.

  “Nooo! He kissed me, and we agreed we wouldn’t even talk until we say our vows. I can’t call him or anything, and he doesn’t know.”

  “What color is it?” Marty asked.

  “What?” Anna Ruth asked.

  Marty whistled loudly, and the whole room went silent. “The dress that won’t fit Cathy. Trixie wouldn’t do that job for all the dirt in Texas, so all the whining in the world isn’t going to do a bit of good. Stop carryin’ on and tell me, what color is the dress?”

  “Red satin.”

  “I’ve got a red satin dress that I wore to the Christmas party at the college last year. I’ll do it,” Marty said.

  “Really?” Anna Ruth said.

  Trixie gasped. “You have got to be kiddin’ me. After the way you’ve hated Andy all this time.”

  “Yep, I’ll do it. What time are you going to the church to get dressed?” Marty answered.

  “The wedding is at two. I’ll be there at one.”

  “Then that’s when I’ll arrive,” Marty said. “Go on home and get a good night’s sleep so you’ll look decent for your wedding.”

  “Marty, you are a true friend.”

  “No, I’m not. I just happen to have a red satin dress.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Anna Ruth floated out of the beauty shop like a butterfly, humming the wedding march.

  “Why in the hell did you do that?” Trixie looked at Marty.

  “Can you see Andy’s face when he looks down that aisle and I’m coming at him? It will be absolutely priceless. And she’ll scatter pictures all over their house and I’ll be right there in them. It’s a real Kodak moment, and besides, I was feeling downright left out. She’s got Trixie’s ex-husband. Darla Jean is preaching the ceremony, and Cathy’s cake topper and ice sculpture is part of her wedding. I hadn’t contributed a thing. And remember, I voted for her,” Marty said.

  “And don’t forget she’s got Cathy’s dress that she was going to marry Ethan in,” Agnes piped up. “You voted for that hussy when my name was on the ballot! Dammit, Marty! What were you thinkin’?”

  Cathy’s eyes bugged out. “How did you know about the dress?”

  “Annabel let it slip to Tandy Jones who is helping convert it into a dress fit for a princess—her words, not mine. And Tandy whispered it to me at the Sunday school meeting this morning. Now ain’t that nice?” Agnes winked at Trixie. “Now y’all are getting to help dear little Anna Ruth out. I even get to be part of the whole thing because I got my hair cut so I’ll look better than Violet tomorrow. Now, answer me, Marty. Why’d you do a stupid ass stunt like vote for that woman?”

  “Aunt Agnes, I could tell you why I voted for Anna Ruth, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  “What are you? CIA?” Agnes asked.

  “No, something even more secret than that, darlin’. Now sit down and let Ella put some curls in the top of your new hairstyle.”

  Kayla giggled. “Your turn, Marty. What color fingernail polish do you want? Fire engine red to go with that dress? I remember it from last Christmas. You brought it in here to match your polish.”

  Marty touched her arm. “That is exactly what I want. Don’t tell anyone about my dress. We want it to be as big a secret as the bride’s new and improved version of my sister’s elegant dress.”

  “Oh, honey, it will sure be that.”

  Ella finished curling the top of Agnes’s hair and then picked it out and sprayed it. “What do you think?”

  “I love it. Reminds me of my hair when me and Bert married. He always did like it short,” Agnes said. “Your turn, Violet. Are you going to the wedding?”

  Violet looked down her nose at Agnes and said, “Anna Ruth is a club member. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, but Ethan won’t be able to attend. He and his lady friend flew to Las Vegas for a long weekend. He’ll be back on Sunday night.”

  While Kayla finished Marty’s nails, Ella rinsed Violet’s hair. She draped a towel over her head and took her back to the chair. “Time to roll it up and set you under the dryer.”

  “No! I want it all cut off like that.” She pointed to the same picture that had taken Agnes’s attention. “Annabel will help me if I have trouble styling it every day.”

  “You can’t cut her hair like mine. I won’t have it,” Agnes said emphatically.

  Darla Jean and Trixie stepped between the two old ladies.

  Ella shrugged and looked at Cathy.

  “Aunt Agnes, she can have her hair cut any way she wants,” Cathy said softly.

  Agnes popped her hands on her hips. “Are you going to dye it red next week too?”

  “I am not! I wouldn’t have that horrible color you were born with for nothing!”

  “Okay, Ella. Cut it all off. If she promises not to dye her hair red then you can cut it like mine. She’ll look like shit but go ahead and let ’er fly,” Agnes said. “Come on, girls. I don’t want to see how bad she’s going to look.”

  Agnes escaped out the door with the four girls while Violet was still gasping. When they were outside, she giggled. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?”

  “Aunt Agnes!”

  Agnes touched her hair. “Don’t know why I didn’t have it cut twenty years ago, and it did go well, Cathy! I got V
iolet to cut her hair. The only reason she wore it like that was one time Bert said it looked very nice. It was all he could think to say when she asked him outright if he liked it. And Marty is going to scare the shit right out of Andy! It was a wonderful evening! Well worth every single dime I spent. Let’s go Clawdy’s and eat ice cream right out of the carton to celebrate.”

  Chapter 27

  The doors of the church opened right into the sanctuary, so Marty, Anna Ruth, and Annabel had to walk outside in the cold from the back door to the front to make their appearance. The cue was that Marty would go around the building when they heard the first notes of “The Sweetest Thing” and take her time getting down the aisle, scattering rose petals from the white satin basket on her arm. She should end her walk on the last note and set her basket on the front pew.

  Marty could not hurry in four-inch spike heels that put her well over six feet tall, and she’d styled her hair as high as she could get it that morning to make herself even taller. It truly was one of those priceless moments when she stepped inside the church and Andy’s smile disappeared. He raised an eyebrow and set his jaws so tightly that she hoped his face was too sore to even kiss Anna Ruth at the end of the ceremony.

  Whispers and tongue-clucking were wasted on her. She knew exactly what effect she’d have on the congregation when she offered to be the bridesmaid. Her long red satin dress had thin diamond straps, hugged her curves like an expensive leather glove, and was slit on one side all the way to her upper thigh. And she did not wear panty hose.

  “Wow!” someone said.

  She didn’t blink but just kept smiling at Andy.

  The song had been planned for the Baptist church where the aisle was much longer than the one in Darla Jean’s church, so she set her basket down when there was still another minute of the song left. She turned around and smiled at the crowd.

  “Is this a joke?” Andy hissed.

  “The cousin went into labor,” Marty whispered. “I’m the replacement. She begged Trixie to do it, but she refused. Count your blessings, Andy.”