Mama looked smug. “You don’t know everything, Ms. Smarty Pants. Of course, Marty would turn to her mama to have a talk about children. It’s not like you’re the most maternal woman on the planet.’’
I was still shaking my head about my little sister when Mama hit me with something else to ponder.
“She’ll do fine. It’s not Marty I’m concerned about, honey.’’
I motioned a 4 X 4 hauling a stock trailer to pull out from the feed store parking lot. Tipping his cowboy hat, the driver slowly turned in front of me. My raised eyebrows signaled to Mama to continue.
“It’s Maddie.’’ Mama’s forehead wrinkled with worry.
I knew I had to tread carefully. I didn’t let my face reveal a thing. “How so?’’
“For starters, she’s lost weight.’’
“Isn’t that all you ever nagged her to do? Now she has, and it’s a problem?’’
Mama folded her arms over her chest. “Something is not right. I know my girls. I just hope whatever’s wrong won’t ruin Kenny’s birthday. Maddie has worked so hard to plan that celebration for him.’’
A speeding driver in a red luxury SUV zoomed past us with inches to spare. He veered so close to a sod truck in the oncoming lane I could see the truck driver’s eyes widen. His lips formed the F-word. The SUV cut back into my lane. He darted into the car length I’d left between my Jeep and the stock trailer so as not to tailgate and spook the cattle.
Mama stuck her head out the window and screamed, “Watch your manners, buster!’’
“Newcomer asshole,’’ I muttered.
“Language, Mace.’’
Mama was momentarily distracted from the Maddie issue by the prospect of the wild driver in the SUV killing someone, like us. I didn’t mention that a ruined party barely registered on Maddie’s problem-o-meter right now.
In the distance, the salon’s sign beckoned. A huge pair of mechanical purple scissors snipped at the air. The SUV pulled out to pass again, terrifying a white-haired couple in a Buick, and earning a one-fingered salute from the cattle-hauling cowboy.
I prayed we’d make it without the SUV causing a crash. If we did, it’d be the first time I was ever relieved to pull in under those scissors to park at Hair Today Dyed Tomorrow.
thirty
“Oh my goodness! My hair looks a fright.’’
Mama caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored walls of Betty Taylor’s shop. I trailed her into the salon, toting her box filled with aromatherapy candles and Color Me Gorgeous pamphlets.
“Windswept hair is the price you pay for sticking your head out the window to scream at rude drivers, Mama.’’
D’Vora glanced at us. Then she ducked her head and hurried into the stock closet. I was beginning to take her avoidance personally.
“What’s up with her?’’ I asked Betty, as I put down Mama’s supplies.
She shrugged. As she stood back to examine the haircut on the woman in her chair, I realized it was the dark-haired teacher from the scary incident with the kids at Himmarshee Park.
“Elaine, right? How’s the ankle?’’ I asked her.
A smile slowly replaced her look of confusion. “Oh, hi! I didn’t recognize you since I’m not hanging on to your neck and limping.’’ Lifting her leg under the purple drape, she showed off her taped ankle. “Not bad. Still swollen. I won’t be running around after the kids for a while.’’
The bells at the front door jangled. An older woman entered. Another customer waited to pay at the cash register .
“D’Vora, get out here! I’m busier than a short-tailed cow in fly season.’’ When Betty yelled, the young stylist came running.
Nodding a quick hello at Mama and me, D’Vora rang up the departing customer, and then settled the new one in a chair at the shampoo sink. I took a seat. Since I had to work over the weekend, I had the day off from the park. There was no better place in town than Hair Today to catch up on gossip, both useful and not.
I introduced Elaine to Mama. Exactly as I predicted, she offered the teacher some advice: “Honey, your hair is so pretty. You ought to let it grow out.’’
“Welcome to my world, Elaine. My mother’s not one to hold back on helpful beauty tips. Helpful tips of any sort, actually.’’
The teacher’s dark eyes sparkled. She seemed more amused than offended. “I’ll give it some thought, Rosalee.’’
I filled everyone in on how the mayor had nearly run down Elaine’s school class.
“I’ve done some checking up on that man. People say he bought the election. I didn’t like him before. Everything I’ve heard since makes me like him even less,’’ Elaine said.
“Join the club,’’ I said. “He’s bringing in some developers to build a big subdivision right next to Himmarshee Park; maybe even pave over the park itself.’’
“Our nature park?’’ Betty turned Elaine’s head back to the mirror. “Can he do that?’’
“This is Florida,’’ I said. “Anything’s for sale if the price is right. I made an appointment for this afternoon to talk to him about it. Mama’s coming along for moral support. Right, Mama?’’
She fluffed her hair. “It’s more like I’m coming along to charm the mayor. We all know which of us loses her temper and who smoothes things over.’’
“I can certainly understand losing your temper about the prospect of ruining that lovely park.’’ Elaine said. “When my family visited from Canada, that’s the first place I took them.’’
“See if you can find out anything from the mayor about that poor girl’s murder,’’ Betty said. “The sooner we know what happened, the safer I’ll feel.’’
I noticed D’Vora hadn’t chimed in on the conversation. Not on the prospect of development, our sleazy mayor, or the murder. She didn’t even ask where Canada was. She concentrated on her shampoo job like she was curing cancer.
“Seriously, Betty … what’s wrong with D’Vora?’’ I whispered.
“Man trouble, I’ll bet.’’ Betty whispered back. “That man of hers fell out of the loser tree and hit every branch coming down.’’
More loudly, she called out, “D’Vora, you’re so quiet you’re scaring the customers. Is that no-account Darryl up to no good again?’’
D’Vora shook her head, kept right on scrubbing at the customer’s hair. Scabs were probably forming on the poor woman’s scalp by now.
Under her breath, Betty caught us up: “She tells me that mo-ron bought brand new custom wheels for his truck, even though they can barely cover the rent. I guess that’s better, though, than him being out there spending money on other women.’’
“Oh, I’ve been there,’’ Mama said. “My girls have been a lot luckier picking out men than I was. Well, it took Mace a while, but she’s got a keeper now.’’
Betty sighed. “That Carlos is sure gorgeous! Such thick, dark hair. And skin that looks like buttered rum. You’re a lucky girl, Mace.’’
“They all three are,’’ Mama said. “Marty and Maddie got a couple of princes, too.’’
A troubled look flitted across D’Vora’s face. She finally joined in, abruptly changing the subject to the charms of the golf pro. “I saw him at Gladys,’ speaking of men. He’s one tasty-looking hunk.”
“I don’t get the attraction of golf,’’ Elaine said. “Hitting a little ball all day? Bor-Ing!’’
“Golf may be God’s dullest gift to the world of sports, but D’Vora’s right about the pro,’’ I told her. “This guy will make you want to find the sweet spot.’’
Mama slapped my hand.
“Ouch! I meant on a golf club, Mama. That’s where you’re supposed to hit the ball.’’
She narrowed her eyes at me. “That boy’s forbidden fruit, Mace. You’re almost a married woman. You’re spoken for.’’
“‘Spoken for?’ What am I, a heifer at the Himmarshee Livestock Auction?’’
Elaine smiled.
“You know what I mean,’’ Mama said. “Once you’re engaged, you cannot waltz around flirting with anything in pants.’’
“Since when have I done that?’’
Betty butted in, nipping our squabble in the bud. “Speaking of flirting, I saw Sal’s man-crazy cousin C’ndee at the Booze ’n’ Breeze drive-thru. She told me about some of that Italian food she’s serving for Kenny’s party. I can’t pronounce it, but it sure sounded good. Who’s that Jersey sparkplug seeing these days?’’