The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop (Cadillac, Texas #3)(41)

A movement on the sidewalk outside caught Stella’s eye and she hopped out of the chair and made a beeline for the back room. Piper and Agnes were arriving at the same time for the third day in a row and there were probably only three maple doughnuts in the box.

“Give me two of those doughnuts,” she told Charlotte.

“One for you and one for Agnes?”

“Both for me. I’m eating one and hiding one in my station drawer.”

The phone rang as Stella was stashing one of her doughnuts.

“Good mornin’, Yellow Rose Beauty Shop,” she said.

“Stella, is Aunt Agnes down there again this morning?” Cathy asked.

“Yes. She and Piper are coming in the door right now,” Stella answered.

“I’m just checking on her. She usually eats breakfast here and she’s been spending a lot of time at your shop and . . .”

“She’s fine, Cathy.”

“You sure?”

“I’m going to grow up and be just like her. She entertains us, believe me. Do I owe you something for letting us have her?” Stella dropped her voice to keep Agnes from hearing.

“Oh, no, but if I owe you anything, just send the check or we can take it out in trade.” Cathy laughed. “She’s happy as a piglet in a fresh wallow right now with all this prayer meeting stuff going on. It’s put a brand-new spring in her step.”

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re all booked solid today. This is the day of the Fourth of July festivities at the football field so I don’t have a spare minute, but I could call you if I have a cancellation,” Stella said.

“I understand. I’ll call back later.” Cathy laughed.

“Y’all all goin’ to the football field tonight?” Agnes asked.

Charlotte and Stella nodded.

“There’s doughnuts and sandwich makings in the back room,” Piper said.

“I’ll take time for a doughnut if there’s a maple one or a chocolate one but then I’ve got some preliminary work to do before we go to the fireworks show tonight.”

“Agnes, you aren’t making fudge, are you?” Stella asked.

“Not this year. Violet’s on to me, and besides, that was last year’s excitement. I can’t expect to wring anything more out of that trick. But I heard that she was coming and she’s walking with a cane. I told that old bitch she’d wear out before I did. If I wind up in jail, y’all bring me a chocolate cake.” Agnes grinned.

“No shotguns, either,” Charlotte yelled.

“Well, hell, y’all ain’t no more fun than the girls at Clawdy’s.”



Nancy had barely settled into the chair for Ruby to blow-dry and style her hair when Agnes pushed the door open. The noise level went from a low buzz to dead silence and every woman in the place—those under the hair dryers, the lady getting her nails done, and the four around the table waiting for their turns—looked from Agnes to Violet, who was waiting for her turn to have her hair done. Heather looked up from the table she shared with Violet and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Good mornin’, everyone. Y’all gettin’ beautified for the fireworks show tonight?” Agnes pulled up the extra chair beside Kayla’s fingernail station and slumped down, kicked off her flip-flops, and rolled up the legs of her overalls. “I want toenails and fingernails both done today.”

“I thought you did your business down at the Yellow Rose,” Heather said.

“They don’t do toenails. I did get my eyebrows waxed last week. They look damn fine, don’t they? Yours are getting pretty wild, Violet. Old women have ugly eyebrows and toenails, so they need to take care of them,” Agnes said.

“Never you mind about my toenails or my eyebrows. If you didn’t wear those god-awful rubber flip-flops all the time, you wouldn’t have to worry about yours, either. Bert Flynn would roll over in his grave to see the way you go out in public,” Violet snapped.

Nancy held her breath. No one, not even Jesus, would say something about Bert to Agnes. Everyone in town knew that in her eyes Bert had a perfect diamond-studded halo and pure white wings that glowed in the dark.

Kayla broke the silence. “Miz Agnes, you go on and get in the pedicure chair and I’ll run some water in the tub for you to soak your feet in. The remote for a chair massage is right there in the pocket.”

With the agility of a twenty-year-old, Agnes crawled up into the chair and stuck her feet in the tub. Kayla started the warm water and added a handful of vanilla-scented bath salts.

The whole shop waited in pregnant silence. There wasn’t room in Agnes’s overalls for her famous shotgun, but there was plenty for a pistol, and Agnes had proven in the past that jail didn’t scare her one bit.

“So have you bought your tickets to the barbecue ball?” Heather asked Agnes.

“You mean we got to pay to go to a glorified barn dance?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kayla answered. “Tickets are twenty dollars each and any member of the Angels keeps a supply ready. You need to bring your dress in so we can match your polish to it, Miz Agnes. If I don’t have your color, I’ll have to order it. I’ve got pink, blue, and yellow on hand, though.”

“Holy shit, Kayla! Pink is all right but blue would look like someone was about to die, and yellow, my God, would look like dead chicken hide got stuck on a woman’s fingernails. You better get in some bright red for me. It’ll go with my overalls.”