The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop (Cadillac, Texas #3)(59)

“I know she hates you, Stella. What happened?” Carlene asked.

“She declared war on me when I wouldn’t join every organization she’s invented,” Stella said. “She’s moved in here and thinks she can change everything about the town, and we love it just the way it is.”

“You do know the whole town is watching you. I heard that Violet has hired a private detective to tail you so that she’ll know who your boyfriend is before Agnes finds out and he’s been told to bring his reports to the hospital,” Carlene said.

Stella groaned.

Carlene laughed. “Maybe we should dye your hair and give you a spike hairdo. The PI wouldn’t recognize you that way.”

“It’s a thought. Know where I could buy a couple of bozo wigs?” Stella asked.

Piper worked the lather into Carlene’s curly blonde hair and let her mind wander as the girls talked about ways to avoid detection. Stella’s first appointment of the day arrived and the talk again veered over to Alma Grace’s wedding shower planned for Sunday. Then Charlotte’s client Rosalee, an elderly lady who had moved from a farm into town when her husband died, turned the talk to her garden and canning tomatoes.

“I’ve got some peppers coming off,” she said, “but they won’t never be as hot as what Claudia Andrews grew up there beside where Clawdy’s is now. That woman had a secret with jalape?os that made them almost as hot as a habanero. I’d just love to know what it was, but she’s passed on and Cathy said that the seeds she saves from them are still hot but she has no idea how her mother and grandmother put the fire in them to begin with.”

At least they weren’t talking about Gene anymore. Piper would rather hear talk about Rhett—she let his name stick in her head and didn’t try to kick it out. She glanced at her appointment book as she put the finishing touches on Carlene’s hair. She had a fifteen-minute break. That would give her enough time to sneak to the back room and forage for something to eat. There was no way that she would have touched one of Gene’s pancakes that morning and now that the jitters had passed, she was starving.

“I love it, Piper.” Carlene smiled. “You’ve outdone yourself. I’ll expect to see you at the shower on Sunday?”

“Of course, but let’s get something straight. This is a wedding shower, not a bridal shower, right?” Piper asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rosalee raised a hand out from under her cape. “What’s the difference?”

“A wedding shower is where we take things like sheets, towels, blenders, and food processors. A bridal shower is where we take sexy underbritches and see-through nighties from down at Bless My Bloomers,” Stella said.

“I’m glad that it’s a wedding shower, since I bought a set of sheets. Do they really take sexy things to showers for brides these days?” Rosalee asked.

“Yes, ma’am, and they buy a lot of it at Bless My Bloomers,” Carlene said. “What did they bring to your shower when you got married?”

“Brooms, mops, towels, and sheets. My mama gave me a high-necked flannel gown that buttoned all the way to the top, but she didn’t give it to me right out in public. It was better than something skimpy, let me tell you.”

“Why?” Stella asked.

“Honey, a man likes to unwrap pretty presents. It’s your job to rope the present down real tight to give him a challenge. It turns them on a lot more than a scanty-wrapped present, believe me. I’m speaking from experience, so if some of us old dinosaurs bring high-necked nightgowns to your bridal shower, we know what we are doing.”

“I’m not having a bridal shower,” Stella said.

Carlene nodded seriously. “But I am, and thank you for that advice.”

Nancy pushed through the door, threw herself on the sofa, and waved at Rosalee. “How’s your garden? Got any tomatoes left or has the heat done burned them all up?”

“I’m pampering them, so they’re coming out my ears. Did you know that Violet started a fuss about backyard gardens at the chamber of commerce meeting last week? Someone said it wasn’t in the chamber’s business to worry with the physical beauty of the town, so she said she’d go to the city council meeting next month. She says they’re a terrible blight on the town. Truth is I’m glad that she’s laid up and won’t be at the meeting. I hope she forgets all about it and it don’t come up again,” Rosalee said.

Nancy shook her head from side to side. “She’s about to cut off her nose to spite her face. Cathy grows her peppers right out beside Clawdy’s and those are what won all those ribbons and what make the festival such a big thing. If she says no one can grow vegetables in their yards, then Cathy won’t be able to grow her peppers.”

“You might tell her that. I didn’t mind leaving all the work of a full-fledged farm, but I’d sure hate to give up my garden,” Rosalee said.

“I will when I get the chance. Oh, I got news.”

“About?” Rosalee asked.

Nancy sat up straighter. “Beulah called and said that Heather has been working on more rules. But anyway, the big news is that it’s now been written in stone that the women have to wear a dress and the gents—that’s Heather’s words, not mine—have to wear a jacket and a tie. They were going to make it black-tie and the men would have to wear tuxes, but we managed to get that overturned in the last meeting. The one that Heather called this morning put the rules down as gospel.”