Pretty Is as Pretty Does Read online

  “Ah, reunions. What is it about them that erases the years of maturity and draws us directly back to the past, complete with the hurts, friendships, and crushes we thought we left behind? Such is the stuff of novelist Debby Mayne’s fun journey to Piney Point, Mississippi, where the women get all prettied up but are forced to explore relationships that go far deeper than perfect skin or big hair. I recommend you take a seat at Priscilla’s station and keep your ears open for a juicy story or two.”

  —Trish Perry, author of Tea for Two and Love Finds You on Christmas Morning

  “Pretty Is As Pretty Does is something very different from author Debby Mayne. We haven’t seen this odd and joyous quirkiness in her characters before, and she orchestrates them beautifully. Small-town southerners abound with all the charm, humor, and sweet tea you hope for, with an unexpected twist of sass and heart.”

  —Sandra D. Bricker, award-winning author of laugh-out-loud fiction, including the Emma Rae Creations series starting with Always the Baker, Never the Bride

  “Anyone who has ever attended a high-school reunion—tenth, twenty-fifth, or even fiftieth—will take to this book like the proverbial duck to water. Seriously! We all go to these events thinking we’re the ugly duckling but determined to prove we’re really a graceful swan. Debby Mayne’s quirky, funny, absolutely true-to-life characters will capture your heart and take you right along on their reunion adventures with them. You’ll love every minute of it, chuckle through every page, and hopefully come away with a fresh reminder of why high-school reunions are really much more about the future than the past.”

  —Kathi Macias (www.boldfiction.com), award-winning author of forty books, including her latest releases, Deliver Me From Evil and Special Delivery

  “I absolutely loved Pretty Is as Pretty Does. Reminiscent of my own high-school reunion, I laughed a lot, and I’m sure I recognize some of her characters as people from my high school. Debby Mayne pens stories that bring her readers back for more. Novel Rocket and I give Pretty Is as Pretty Does a resounding recommendation.”

  —Ane Mulligan, Senior Editor, Novel Rocket (www.novelrocket.com)

  “Debby Mayne does a wonderful job of drawing the reader into the lives of the characters from the class of 1993 at Piney Point High School. Great characters with real-life problems.”

  —Margaret Daley, author of Scorned Justice

  “I was thoroughly entranced by this book by Debby Mayne. I’ve loved her books for a long time, but this one had so much in it that hit close to home for me. My daughter is a hairdresser, and Debby’s character hit the mark—her motives for helping women feel better about themselves, her artistry and abilities. And this book has a large cast of unique characters who display almost the whole gamut of human frailties. And the book was full of humor and pathos. I highly recommend it.”

  —Lena Nelson Dooley, award-winning author of Maggie’s Journey, Mary’s Blessing, Catherine’s Pursuit, and Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico

  Other books by Debby Mayne

  Sweet Baklava

  PRETTY IS AS

  PRETTY DOES

  The Class Reunion Series

  Book 1

  Debby Mayne

  Pretty Is as Pretty Does

  Copyright © 2013 by Debby Mayne

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68299-812-0

  Published by Abingdon Press, P.O. Box 801, Nashville, TN 37202

  www.abingdonpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form,

  stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website,

  or transmitted in any form or by any means—digital,

  electronic, scanning, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without

  written permission from the publisher, except for brief

  quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction

  are the creations of the author, and any resemblance

  to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Published in association with the Hartline Literary Agency.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been

  requested

  Scripture quotations are from the Common English Bible. Copyright

  © 2011 by the Common English Bible. All rights reserved. Used by

  permission. www.commonenglishbible.com.

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 / 18 17 16 15 14 13

  To my daughters

  Alison Ingraham and Lauren Carroll—

  two of my favorite women in the entire world.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Barbara Scott for acquiring the Class Reunion series and to editors Ramona Richards and Jamie Chavez for helping make this book the best it can be. I’d also like to thank my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, who works hard to keep me busy. I appreciate good friends and fellow writers Julie Pollitt, Paige Winship Dooly, Sandie Bricker, and Trish Perry for their encouragement and advice.

  God doesn’t look at things like humans do. Humans see only what

  is visible to the eyes, but the LORD sees into the heart.

  1 Samuel 16:7

  1

  Priscilla Slater

  We are thrilled to announce

  Piney Point High School’s

  10-year reunion

  on June 7, 2003, at 7:30 PM

  in Piney Point High’s

  newly renovated gymnasium.

  Attire: Sunday best

  RSVP: Laura Moss 601-555-1515

  PS: There will be a preparty

  at Shenanigan’s in Hattiesburg

  starting at about 5:00 PM.

  Wow. Ten years. As I read my high school reunion invitation a second time, I can’t help smiling. Although I own one of the most successful businesses in my hometown of Piney Point, Mississippi, I’ve lost track of most of the people I graduated with.

  Knowing the people I went to high school with, this is going to be one crazy event—that is, if everyone attends. I’m not surprised Laura added a preparty to the invitation. Her husband has never attended any social event before prepartying his face off—even in high school. Pete Moss graduated with the distinct honor of high school lush, and as far as I know, he continues to hold that honor, which is ironic since I don’t remember ever seeing Laura touching a drop of anything stronger than her mama’s two-day-old sweet tea.

  Poor Laura.

  I pin the invitation to the bulletin board beside the fridge. And for extra measure, I jot the date on my calendar. In pencil, just in case . . . well, in case something comes up.

  As I kick off my killer high-heels, I wonder if Maurice will be there. I sigh as I remember the guy who, in my mind, almost became my boyfriend. I used to stand in front of my bedroom mirror, practicing “looks.” I think back and realize things weren’t as they seemed, but I still wonder if he’ll see me differently now that I’ve made something of myself. Not that I’m trying to impress anyone.

  And I sure haven’t impressed my parents. Quite the opposite. Still, I’ve taken a small-town beauty shop and turned it into a fabulous business—one of the most successful in Piney Point. And I’m not ready to stop there. I already have three shops—the original, which used to be called Dolly’s Cut ’n Curl, one in Hattiesburg that formerly held the title Goldy’s Locks, and the salon where my current office is located in Jackson. In honor of the first, they are all called Prissy’s Cut ’n Curl, although I’m seriously considering changing the name to something a little trendier since I’m planning to expand. I mean, really, can you imagine anyone in New York City telling her friends she gets her hair done at th
e Cut ’n Curl? Besides, I hate being called Prissy.

  I’ll never forget Mother’s reaction when she found out I’d dropped out of my first semester of college and enrolled at the Pretty and Proud School of Cosmetology. You’d have thought I announced I wanted to pledge Phi Mu or something. No offense to anyone in Phi Mu. It’s just that Mother was a Chi Omega, and that makes me a legacy, which carries even more clout than being Miss Piney Point, something I never was. Mother would have had a fit if I’d even suggested entering a beauty contest. So when I met some of the Chi Omegas at Ole Miss, I was surprised by how many of them were beauty queens—something Mother never mentioned. Makes me wonder what happened to her between her Chi O heydays and now.

  My parents are academics and proud of it. Mother is a professor of English, and Dad is head of the history department at the Piney Point Community College, but you’d think they had tenure at an Ivy League school the way they carry on.

  I missed lunch today and my stomach’s grumbling. But when the noise turns to hissing, I relent and pull a Lean Cuisine from the freezer. I know how to cook, but it seems pointless to do that for one. I also know that one Lean Cuisine isn’t enough, so while it heats in the microwave, I grab a bag of salad and dump the contents into a bowl. Then I chop a tomato, grab a few olives, and pour a tablespoon of ranch dressing on top. I step back and study the salad before I squirt another tablespoon or two. The salad’s full of fiber and the Lean Cuisine is low-fat, so I figure that balances out the extra calories.

  Just as I’m about to sit down and enjoy dinner, the phone rings. It has to be Mother, I think. She’s the only one who ever calls my house phone. I hesitate, but my daughterly duties overcome me. What if she needs something? I’d never be able to live with the guilt if I didn’t answer an important call from the woman who gave birth to me after twenty hours of labor—or so she tells folks when they ask why I’m an only child.

  “Did you get your invitation yet?” she asks without letting me finish my hello. “Are you planning on going?”

  Leave it to Mother to know about the reunion before me. “Yes . . . well, probably.”

  “There’s really no point, Priscilla. After all, it’s all about showing off all your accomplishments, and it’s not like you’ve made all that much of your life.”

  I bite my tongue, as I always have. I want to let Mother know how I really feel, but talking back has never gotten me anywhere with her, so I somehow manage to keep my yap shut. She takes that as encouragement to keep going.

  “That silly-frilly little job of yours will get old one of these days, and then what will you do?”

  “Mother, you know it’s more than a job to me.”

  She laughs. “All you do is decorate the outside of women—”

  “Some of our clients are men,” I remind her.

  “Okay, so you work on the outer appearance of women . . . and men. How does that really make any difference in the world? You could have been so much more than that, Priscilla. Your father and I—”

  “My business makes a huge difference in a lot of people’s lives. Our clients feel better about themselves, and I keep a couple dozen people employed so they can feed their families.”

  “Well, there is that.” Mother pauses as she reloads. “At any rate, why would you even want to go?”

  “Because I want to?” I can’t help the fact that I’m starting to sound like an adolescent.

  “That’s a shock. Your father and I were wondering why you haven’t shown your face in town in the past year. Then it dawned on me that you didn’t want folks to see you wearing braces. I’m surprised you even have a salon left. You know what the mice do when the cat’s away.”

  “I hire people I can trust,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

  “So are you going to the reunion or not?”

  “Like I said, I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want your old classmates to see you in braces? After all, since you’re so into appearances, I would think—”

  “I’m getting them off soon, so that’s not an issue.” I suspect she’s annoyed that I got braces for cosmetic reasons. I begged Mother to let me have braces when I was a kid, but after the dentist assured her it wasn’t necessary for good dental care, she told me I was just being shallow. Throughout high school, I smiled with my mouth closed so people wouldn’t notice my overlapping front teeth.

  Mother lets out one of her long-suffering sighs. “Okay, well, if you do decide to go, give us plenty of notice so we can clear our schedule for your visit. Your father and I have social obligations, since he’s the head of his department.”

  “Yes, I know.” Ever since Dad’s promotion, Mother likes to remind me of his position. And it’s been at least three years. “Whatever I decide, there’s no need to clear your schedule.”

  “You know you’re always welcome to stay here at the house,” she adds.

  I wish I really did feel welcome. “Thank you, Mother.” But I’ve learned to live with the tension.

  “And don’t forget to bring your church clothes. We’re not like your church in the city. We still show our respect by dressing nicely.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  I hear Dad calling out to her, so I’m relieved when she tells me she needs to run. After I hang up, I lean against the wall and slide to the floor. Talking to my mother is exhausting.

  On my way to the office the next morning, Mother’s voice rings through my head. “Someday you’ll thank me for this,” she’d said when she dropped me off on the steps of my dorm at Ole Miss, her alma mater. She reminded me it’s always good to start out away from home to get a taste of being on my own but with a safety net—as if I was arguing about where I was going to college. The real argument happened when I dropped out.

  See, ever since I entered my teenage years, I dreamed of doing something with clothes and hair and eventually turn it into my own business. I never minded studying in high school if it meant making my parents happy, but college wasn’t the path that would lead me to where I wanted the rest of my life to go. Just do it, right? Some of the most successful young entrepreneurs either skipped or dropped out of college. Look at Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg.

  I pull into the parking lot of my Jackson shop and open the car door. And pause. I sit there and stare at the two-story, redbrick building with an upscale salon on the ground level and my office upstairs. This is the first salon I built from the ground up, and I’m mighty proud of its success in the two short years since I’ve been there. The Jackson newspaper did a story on me once and claimed I’m lucky in business. I might not have finished my first semester of college, but I’m a logical thinker and planner. I did a year-long study and determined this location had the most potential for growth. The old mansions in the neighborhood are being bought for a song, divided up and renovated into apartments, and sold for a fortune. Then there’s all the twenty-something, fresh-out-of-college hipsters moving into those apartments. My success isn’t luck—it’s knowing what I want and being willing to work hard for it.

  Finally, I get out of the car, grab my briefcase, and head up the side staircase to my office. Before I open the door, I know Tim is here by the fresh scent of Abercrombie and Fitch’s latest cologne for men.

  “Looky what the cat drug in.”

  “What are you doing here so early?” I toss my briefcase into the tiny office behind my assistant, Mandy, who is too busy opening mail and acting like she’s minding her own business for me to think she’s not getting a kick out of my annoyance. “Any messages?”

  “Just got here, Prissy. You got a ton of mail from yesterday.”

  “I need to talk to the mailman. It’s just not right for all our mail to get here after we leave.”

  “I know, right?” Mandy cuts a glance over at Tim then rolls her eyes toward me.

  “So are you here for my order?” I ask Tim. He’s still in one of the three chairs across from Mandy’s desk.

  Tim is a sales rep for his uncle’s beauty supply
company, and he covers most of the center of the state. If he gave all his customers the attention he gives me, he’d never have time to sleep. Even Mandy has noticed.

  “I thought I’d take you to breakfast.”

  I fold my arms and arch an eyebrow as I study him. “What’s the occasion?”

  He shrugs. “I dunno. I thought maybe we could talk about your reunion.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I shriek. “You know about the reunion?”

  “Um . . .” He glances over at Mandy who shrugs and busies herself with some paperwork that’s been sitting on her desk for a week. Finally, he turns to me and meets my gaze with challenge. “Yeah. I talked to Sheila last week when I stopped by your salon in Piney Point.”

  Sheila’s the hairdresser I put in charge of the Piney Point salon when I left to open the Jackson office. “Why did you stop by there? I do all my ordering here.”

  If Tim doesn’t stop shrugging so much, his shoulders will get stuck. “Old time’s sake, and all that.” He stands. “So if you don’t have a date, I’m available.”

  Tim has a crush on me. We dated for a while, but after he started getting serious, I resisted all his advances. I have a business to run, and I don’t have time for romantic distractions. Besides, the chemistry isn’t there for me. “It’s almost two months away. I have no idea what I’m doing that night.”

  He follows me into my office. “At least think about it. We’ve been friends for a long time, and you can totally be yourself with me.” He holds both hands out to his sides and makes one of his goofy faces. “My mama taught me good manners, so I won’t embarrass you. I know which fork to use for the salad, and I even have my own tux.”

  I can’t help laughing. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Yeah, you start with the outside silverware and work your way toward the plate.”

  “No, Tim,” I say slowly. “I’m talking about the tux. You seriously own one?”

  He nods.

  “But why?” I leave out the part about how he has always fancied himself a redneck, and even if he hadn’t come out and said that, I would’ve known the instant he told me he owns every single book Lewis Grizzard and Jeff Foxworthy ever wrote.