The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop (Cadillac, Texas #3)(3)

Stella tried to speak, but words wouldn’t go from brain to mouth. Her face burned. Her hands shook so bad that she laid the scissors down and ran a comb through Trixie’s hair. No way would she trust herself to cut hair until she settled down.

“I’d be pissed if I was you,” Trixie said.

Piper came through the back door into the shop. “Who’s pissed? They can join my club since I’m permanently pissed. Hey, Stella, have you seen the billboard in front of the church? I saw it when I took the boys to day care. Who’s got a pregnant daughter in town?”

Instead of a hairdresser, Piper could have been a plus-size model with her height, sexy curves, and big brown eyes. She pulled off a baseball hat and shook out a thick mane of gorgeous honey-blonde hair that fell into soft curls around her face without a bit of styling. She sat down in her swivel chair, threw one long leg decked out in bright-yellow leggings over the other, and adjusted the collar of a flowing sleeveless blouse printed with huge sunflowers.

Piper looked from Trixie to Stella. “What’s going on? I don’t think it’s ever been this quiet in the shop. The crickets are even quiet.”

“Shhh.” Trixie put a finger over her lips. “She’s about to explode. I can feel it.”

“What happened?” Piper whispered.

Trixie adjusted the cape over her lap. “Nancy put Stella on the prayer list down at the church last night. She’s the daughter who needs a husband.”

“Holy shit! I told you it was a bad idea to come back here. And what happens when we do? Gene divorces me. Charlotte gets all serious about her knitting again. And now you are pregnant. I bet Nancy is ready to do more than shoot you.” Piper finally took a deep breath.

“I am not pregnant!” Stella raised her voice. This could not possibly have happened at a worse time. What in the hell was her mother thinking?

“Then why would Nancy think you need a husband? Not that she and I are in agreement on that issue. God only knows if I’d known then what I know now, I damn sure wouldn’t have married Gene Stephens when I got pregnant with the twins. Hell, no! I would have just raised them by myself and saved myself the misery. Okay, fess up. Why did Nancy do that?”

Trixie answered, “Morning gossip up at Miss Clawdy’s Café says that Nancy wants a grandbaby by Mother’s Day, which means that Stella should have a husband by the first week in August. Evidently she wants a legitimate grandbaby.”

“That’s right before your birthday, Stella,” Piper said.

“Who’s getting a grandbaby by Mother’s Day?” Charlotte called out from the back door.

“Did you drive past the church this morning?” Piper asked.

Charlotte tucked her purse into the cabinet in front of the chair where Stella sat and carried her knitting bag to the sofa. She pulled out a set of circular needles and six inches of pale-yellow baby blanket. “Yes, I did, and what does that sign mean? Who’s pregnant? Who is getting a baby by Mother’s Day? Boone and I’ve decided to wait two years to get pregnant. Mama says that I shouldn’t start a family when I’m past thirty, but if we wait two years then I’ll only be twenty-nine when the baby comes. Now, would somebody please tell me whose daughter needs a husband because she’s pregnant?” Charlotte asked.

“Nancy’s,” Piper said.

Charlotte flipped around, wide-eyed, and slapped a hand over her mouth. “You are pregnant? You didn’t tell us you were dating. Dear Lord, you are as pale as a sheet. Have you had morning sickness yet?”

Stella stood up and started to pace. “Some friends you are. I’ll say it one more time—I’m not pregnant. I can’t believe Mama did this. She’s lived here her whole life and she knows how folks talk. This could ruin our business. You know what small-town gossip can do. We don’t need a scandal like this.”

“Settle down. It’ll blow over in a couple of days,” Piper said.

Stella kept pacing, fighting back the tears welling up behind her eyelids. “The town is barely big enough for two beauty shops as it is, and we’ve just now got things built up and . . .” Her voice got louder with each word. The lump in her throat was bigger than a grapefruit, and no matter how hard she swallowed, it would not go down.

“Slow down, girl,” Trixie said. “Like Piper said, it’ll all blow over by next week. They’ll put something else on the sign and the gossip about you will be old news. You know what they do with yesterday’s newspaper, don’t you? They wrap raw fish in it or put it on the bottom of birdcages.”

“We can always sell out and go back to Dallas,” Piper said.

“Or maybe we could go to Walmart in Sherman. I hear they’re always looking for good help in the beauty shop up there,” Charlotte said.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Stella declared. “And I don’t need a husband and I’m pissed and I could just . . .” She went to the back room; sat down at the table that served as a place to eat, do business, and fold clothing; and put her head on her arms. She wouldn’t cry, not with Trixie there, even if she was a friend. She wouldn’t. She refused to let one tear fall. But it did, and then a river washed down her face, taking mascara and blush with it but none of the pain.

Charlotte and Piper hurried to her side, pulled out chairs, and patted her shoulder, her arm, and her knee.