The Yellow Rose Beauty Shop (Cadillac, Texas #3)(67)

“Yes, ma’am,” Stella said. “And Mama, thanks for dinner and the bread.”

“You are so welcome. Now I’ve got to go take care of my spy business or Agnes will have my scalp.”



Annabel was sitting at Ruby’s station with permanent rods in her hair when Nancy arrived at the beauty shop. Heather was at Kayla’s nail table and Floy was getting a shampoo.

“You got an appointment this morning?” Ruby asked.

“No, I just came for Kayla to do my nails,” Nancy said.

“They need doing,” Heather said bluntly. “Tacky is always noticeable and there’s nothing tackier than chipped fingernails.”

“Oh, I could argue that point, but not today. So, anything new on the barbecue ball? If we’d been truly smart, we would have made each lady bring her special recipe of barbecue and put out pretty jars for donations for the best one,” Nancy said.

Heather clapped her hands and squealed. “I love that idea. Let’s do it. It’s not too late to announce it and it’ll save us a bunch of money having to pay for the barbecue. Oh, we must do this! Let’s draw up the rules. Each lady has to bring her favorite recipe and a side dish to go with it. We’ll have the food paid for that way. I’ll make cute little boxes for the donations with the ladies’ names on it. It sounds so Victorian, don’t you think?”

It still sounded like a redneck thing to Nancy, but she wasn’t saying a word. She’d never figured she could get Heather to fall for the job Agnes had given her so quickly. Everett wouldn’t have to cook for two days. He could smoke a roast for her and a couple of chickens for Stella and that would do it. Stella could make her ranch potato salad and Nancy would take a bourbon-banana cake for the dessert table. Heather didn’t have to know about the cup of bourbon in the recipe. The baking process did, after all, remove the alcohol.

Kayla picked up the pink fingernail polish and shook it. “You sure you don’t want the gold fingernail this week?”

“Yes, I want you to leave it off,” Heather snapped at Kayla. “Aunt Violet told me when I visited her yesterday that she’s had hers removed and she’s just sure that’s what made her knee go bad. Something in the glue seeped into her blood and ruined her knee, so I won’t be wearing a gold nail anymore until I do some more research on the adhesive. After all, I have lots of work to do if I’m going to turn Cadillac into a cultural city.”

“I heard that it can cause dementia and terrible gastroenteritis.” It came out so slick that Nancy wondered if she’d said the words out loud.

“Oh, my! I really can’t afford that. With Aunt Violet ailing, this town needs me so much.” Heather sighed loudly.

“What do you want me to do with this fingernail?” Kayla asked.

“Put it in a nice little box and I’ll keep it until they invent glue that is guaranteed not to make me sick.”

“So it’s all right to tell folks about the new idea for the barbecue ball? You know that will make it somewhat like the chili cook-off,” Nancy said.

“Oh, yes, tell them. I’m making an executive decision right now. It will save my ministry a lot of money and it will be fun. Who can come up with the best barbecue in town? And I went to that chili cook-off. My beautiful ball will be dignified. It won’t be anything like an outdoor thing with beer and kids running around like a bunch of hoodlums,” she declared.

“Be sure that’s what you want, because once the story gets out, there won’t be any going back. Tickets are still twenty dollars but the ladies have to bring barbecue and a side dish, right?”

“That is what I said.” Heather shot her a dirty look.

“All done,” Kayla said.

“Oh, and each person has to bring their very own barbecue. It can’t be from the Rib Joint and it can’t be made by someone else,” Heather said.

“You mean Everett can’t make Stella’s?”

Heather’s mouth turned up in a wicked grin. “That’s right. She has to make her own or be disqualified. I do hope someone brings pulled chicken, because that is my very favorite.”

“Then you will simply have to save room for Stella’s chicken. Her pulled chicken and her ranch potato salad are her specialties,” Nancy said. “What are you bringing, Heather?”

“Darlin’,” she said sarcastically. “If you will remember, I’m making the punch for the small table.”

Was it really a sin to slap a woman right out in public? And was that considered assault and battery, which was a felony, or would Jack call it disturbing the peace and let her off with a fine?





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

On Friday morning, eight days before the ball, Annabel showed up at the Yellow Rose with a poster in her hands. Not just a little legal-size paper poster someone had generated on the computer, but a full-size glossy one showing something like Tara of Gone with the Wind in the background, stating the event’s time, from six to midnight with dinner (not supper) served promptly at eight following the drawing to unite the couples.

Annabel’s dark hair was laced with streaks of gray and if she didn’t keep a healthy supply of rocks in her pockets, a good, strong Texas wind could have blown her plumb away. She never left home without perfect makeup, hose, and heels and most of the time she wore a cute little suit. That day she was in perfect form, smile pasted on and high heels clicking against the tile floor.