Bein' Dead Ain't No Excuse Page 5

  Holy crap. Another delay. My first inclination was to outright refuse the youngster’s request. However, I checked my response. Manners may be slipping a bit in today’s society, but make no mistake about it, they still matter here in Dixie. If I failed to help the little tyke find her lost mother, the grapevine would explode with my atrocious behavior in a matter of hours. And that just wouldn’t do with the competition opening a salon across the street from Dixieland. The Golden Rule reigns supreme, and the old guard kept tabs on those who failed to practice it to their satisfaction.

  Such are the perplexity of Southern manners.

  With a tip of my head, I acknowledged the old dragons frowning at me, and in my sweetest voice, assured the little girl that I would assist her in locating her parent as soon as I received, and paid for my order.

  Mrs. Shacklefort, the haughtiest dragon of all, seemed pleased with my answer. Yippee!

  I collected the donuts, and the little girl’s hand, and went in search of the lost mother. After several minutes of combing the isles, we collided with the frantic woman over in the produce section. From the lecture little Abby received, I assumed she was a habitual offender and was in for a sound spanking when she got home. I accepted the grateful parent’s praises and made my escape.

  Then, curse the fates, I ran into Diane Downey on Isle 9.

  Choking back a few choice cuss words at my incredibly bad luck, I skidded to a stop and faced the old dragon with a plastic smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Downey.”

  “Good morning, Jolene.” Her eyebrows lifted with what I would call a bitchy disdain, and she spoke in a slow Southern drawl, “I heard what happened to Annie Mae yesterday morning at the salon. The Good Book says we reap what we sow, and thankfully, the good Lord has seen fit to hand out a just punishment for her mean treatment of me.”

  Seeing how I knew Diane hadn’t forgiven Mama for launching out on her own and publishing a cookbook, and selling well I might add, I clamped down on my immediate response of her hypocrisy. You see, Diane Downey didn’t practice what she preached. Ellie Malone, a former nail tech, had once accused her of being one of them good Christian bitches who looked down on the rest of us poor, lost sinners. In Diane’s estimation, the golden rule of reciprocity didn’t apply to her. She could stick it to you, but you couldn’t stick it back.

  “I see you have nothing to say about it,” she continued in her squeaky voice. Her lip curled in a snarl, and I stepped back a step to put a little much-needed distance between us. “I’m petitioning the Church Ladies Auxiliary to investigate Annie Mae’s atrocious behavior, past and present, and have her removed from the organization. I find myself questioning her Christian ethics.”

  Okay, the bitch was crossing the line, and I clutched the donut box closer to my chest so I wouldn’t give into temptation and cream her with an assortment of gooey chocolate, sprinkled-covered donuts. Just as I opened my mouth to give the old dragon a piece of my mind, my psychic radar zapped me with an urgent jolt of electricity.

  Diane let out a screech of jubilant exaltation, “Oh, look, it’s Lilith Lacewell!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Isn’t she an angel? A beautiful angel from Heaven?”

  My grip tightened on the box, and I looked over my shoulder at the woman innocently pushing a grocery cart toward us. My heated gaze fastened on the redhead—me being the only one who could see the alligator scales beneath her bewitching disguise. Scarlett had referred to her as the Queen of Hell. The name fit. With hair of fire, I could almost smell the stink of sulfur when the woman drew to a stop beside us.

  Mrs. Downey was beside herself with enthusiasm for Whiskey Creek’s newest citizen. Her face beamed a sunny welcome. “Good morning, Miss Lacewell. As the newest member of the city council, let me be the first to welcome you to Whiskey Creek. We’re so looking forward to the opening of your beauty shop, Shear Indulgence.”

  “Salon,” Lilith corrected in a soft, cultured voice. “I prefer beauty salon. Beauty shop sounds so, um, Southern, don’t you agree, Jolene?”

  I snickered at Diane’s temporary loss of words until those smiling amethyst eyes settled on me. Goosebumps erupted all over my body, and I caught a whiff of her foul breath. Sheesh. The woman needed a breath mint.

  Not in the mood for a public confrontation, I lifted the box of donuts. “I really need to scoot if you ladies don’t mind. I have an employee meeting in ten.” For Diane’s benefit, I gave a quick nod to Lilith. “Thanks again for your part in saving Mama from what could’ve been a horrible fatal accident, Miss Lacewell. My family and I appreciate your quick thinking.”

  “My pleasure.” The amethyst eyes blazed red as they burned into mine. “I’m always glad to help a soul in trouble.” Her foul breath washed over me with her next words. “Take care of your mother, Jolene. Life is short and unpredictable, and one never knows when your time has run out.”

  Her gaze burned with renewed fire, but I could read between the lines. My time was up. Lilith expected an answer—now. My soul for Mama’s life? I knew my answer, yet still, I hesitated to say it out loud. Eternity is forever, and Hell wasn’t on my destination wish list.

  Suddenly, as if she could read my mind, and answer, Lilith’s red lips parted in a vile smile before turning to Diane as if I didn’t exist—which was perfectly fine with me. How much time I had, I couldn’t guess, so I bolted for the exit with a hasty prayer and my box of donuts.

  Chapter Six

  The Great Pretender

  The cooler autumn temperatures had the morning shoppers out in full force, and the Saturday traffic in downtown slowed my progress, but the stately courthouse square finally came into view. I was glad to see old Colonial Nathanial Taft still keeping an eye out on the town from his lofty position atop his faithful steed. I also noticed the statue needed cleaning and polishing as it had grown green and dull over the years. The sculpture would provide an excellent subject to discuss with the mayor’s wife, who happened to be my first client of the day, and never ceased to stop yapping once her huge butt plopped down on my black leatherette stylist chair.

  I whipped around two streets, and pulled onto Love Avenue and around to the rear of the shop, where I spied Preston’s shiny new BMW parked beside Deena’s green Buick.

  “Can the day get any worse?” I muttered as I zipped into my parking space—my mood turning dark like the chocolate glazed donuts resting on the passenger seat. Geez, I needed a break from the male species. Now might be a good time to dump the nice doctor and practice celibacy for a while. If the itch became too much for me to scratch, I could throw my saddle over him for an occasional ride.

  In the empty kitchen, I placed the donuts on the table. Coffee was dripping so I assumed Deena and Preston must be in her office. They were. And Mama. She cast me a speculative look the instant I strode through the door. I donned a plastic smile and turned to my audience. “Good morning, everyone,” I chirped. “Ready for a busy day?”

  Preston rose from his chair to place an arm around my waist. “I wanted more time with you this morning, but I’m shoving off for a short weekend conference in Savannah.” He pecked me on the cheek. “I’ll check with you later tonight once I check in at The Westin. Sure you can’t come with me? I’ll be back in town Sunday morning.”

  I had a vision of moss-hung oaks and shaded squares and delicate French pastries and let out a heavy sigh. Savannah was one of my favorite travel destinations, and I longed to tag along for some much needed R&R in a luxury five-star hotel. I felt my resolve slipping when the delectable vision morphed into Lilith Lacewell sinking her sharp claws into Mama’s tender flesh.

  That did the trick. No question of my leaving. Besides, I had a packed appointment book and Deena’s last minute wedding plans to consider.

  “No. I’m sorry, Preston.” My frown melted into a smile. “Maybe next time. Deena’s wedding is days away, and I need to be here. I am the Maid of Honor.”

  Preston placed another discreet peck on my cheek, excused himself, and das
hed out the door, leaving me staring into Mama’s troubled gaze.

  “I believe you should’ve taken him up on the invitation, Jolene,” she said in her nicey-nice tone. “We could use a vacation from your schizophrenic claims of my impending death. Humph.”

  That fried my goat.

  I heard the muted sound of the front doorbell jingle. “And I believe you should get out there and do your job, Mommy dearest,” I replied in a good impression of her nicey-nice tone.

  We smiled at one another, but Mama lifted herself up from the chair and made her way out of the office.

  Deena and I exchanged looks. She was the first one to break the silence. “I don’t believe we’re going to make it through this. I never thought I would say this, but having Mama here in the salon is driving me batty. Isn’t there another way to keep an eye on her? I’m ready to fire her.”

  “Yeah, we could tie her to a chair at home and gag her, but Daddy isn’t too keen on the idea, so this is the next best thing. Relax, it’s not forever, just until after your wedding.”

  A dreamy look crossed her face. “Mrs. Ryder Matheson. Mrs. Deena Matheson.” She wiggled in her chair. “Oh, Jolene, I’m so excited to get married again. You should dive back in. The water’s just right.”

  I made the sign of the cross. “No, thanks, sis. Been there, done that, and it didn’t work out. This gal is single till death I do part from this earthly realm. And on that final note, I need to get to work. Mrs. Kent is my first client, glory be and help us all.”

  “Hey, before you leave I want to remind you of our appointment Monday morning with Cheryl Winters, my wedding planner, and Sonya Jones, the woman I’ve hired to sing.”

  “I’ve never heard of her. She a member of our church?”

  “No. Cheryl recommended her. This will be our first meeting. That’s why it’s important that you be there.”

  “Are Mama and Billie Jo coming?”

  “What do you think?”

  “They’ll be there, and so will I. What time?”

  “Ten sharp in the church auditorium.”

  “Call and remind me early Monday morning, okay?”

  Deena gave me a thumbs up, and I made my way out of her office and to my station, where I was putting on my apron when the mayor’s wife pushed through the front door and yoo-hooed me from the reception area.

  “Good morning, Amelia,” I said, as she squeezed her considerable bulk into my stylist chair. “How’s things down at city hall?” Duty demanded I ask, so I did. Amelia loved the English language and the sound of her voice speaking the lingo. Which suited me because I prefer the client do all the yakking as I concentrated on my job. Au contraire to popular belief, some of us beauticians aren’t bobble heads, and I am one who basks in the goldenness of silence. However, this morning I had a subject I wished to discuss at length with her—cleaning up the town’s statue.

  Before I could broach the subject, she swiveled in the chair, twisting her plump face upward to meet my gaze. “Rumor has it Annie Mae provoked a fight with Diane. Any truth to it, Jolene? Did your momma call Diane a thief? Rumor has it they exchanged blows and Diane came out on top.”

  Mama popped up just as the last word left Amelia’s mouth. They eyed one another like two feral tom cats, and I could see from the other patron’s gleeful expressions that they too sensed a catfight in the making, and by God, they’d be sure and not miss any of the excitement. Fed up with the continuing drama unfolding, I grabbed Mama’s arm and tried to steer her toward Deena’s office. Red-faced, Mama balked and jerked her arm from my grasp. She pinched me hard on the upper arm. “If you don’t mind, Jolene, I can take care of Amelia’s gossiping tongue in two minutes flat.” She pointed a long finger in Amelia’s face. “You’ve been aiming for a fight with me ever since I beat you out of becoming the next president of the Garden Club. You’re a damned fool, Amelia Kent, if you tangle with me.” She balled her fingers into a tight fist.

  The atmosphere crackled and popped with antagonism and jealousy. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of red hair, and I whipped my head around just as Lilith waltzed across the reception area. Her full lips cracked a satisfied smile as she glided to a stop not far from my station. The smile wasn’t reflected in her cold amethyst gaze.

  “Oh, Mrs. Kent, I’ve been looking for you,” she purred in an exaggerated Southern drawl, her eyes never leaving my face. “I would be ever so grateful for your help in a private matter. My salon isn’t open to the public as of yet so we could talk privately over there. That is if you have the time this morning.

  Amelia tore the cape from her neck and heaved her considerable bulk out of my chair like a rocket blast. “Time? Oh, yes, my dear,” she twittered gaily. “I have time for you now.” She turned a nasty expression on Mama and me. “As God is as my witness, I’ll never step foot in this place again.” She swung away, moving fast toward the front door.

  “Oh dear,” Lilith purred deceptively. “I didn’t mean to steal your client, Jolene. I’m so terribly sorry.” She turned the charm on Mama. “Annie Mae, please tell me I didn’t cross any lines.” She cupped Mama’s hands. “I would never purposely hurt your daughter’s business.”

  Mama bought her horseshit. “Don’t you worry yourself none, my dear,” she said, patting the she-demon’s hand. “I’m ever so grateful to you, Miss Lacewell.”

  “Call me Lilith,” she gushed before Mama could continue. “I feel we’re such good friends and all. Don’t you?”

  “Of course, Lilith,” Mama agreed. “You saved my life. I’m indebted to you, and would love it if you would join my family for Sunday dinner? We usually eat around one.”

  Seeing the grit and determination in Mama’s eyes, I bit back the retort I’d been about to make, and silently prayed for wisdom. The more I objected to Lilith, the more she seemed to ingratiate herself with my family. I had to find a better way to expose her true nature. I crossed my arms and settled my eyes on Lilith.

  Her gaze lit with satisfaction. “Before I go, I would like a short word with you, Jolene. That is if you don’t mind.”

  Mama looked at me expectantly. I nodded for her benefit and led Lilith to the facial room where I knew we’d have complete privacy. I closed the door behind us and turned to face her with my back against the wall.

  “Make it quick. Amelia is waiting for you, remember?” I asked in an even tone, not betraying my revulsion and loathing. I had to play it cool. Outsmart the wily fox and play for additional time.

  Lilith plopped down on the loveseat. “I can read your thoughts.”

  I said nothing, merely lifted a haughty brow. Two can play this game.

  “Which will it be, Jolene?” Her foul breath poured over me. “Your soul or your mother’s life?”

  I waited—scarcely daring to breathe. I had known this moment would arrive, yet had held hope that an answer would come. Finally, I said, “I need more time.”

  “Time’s up.” Lilith shed her disguise, arching her back. “Ah, that’s better.” Leathery wings beat against the walls. “I don’t know how you humans stand being encased in that obnoxious skin.” A hot, sulfur-scented breeze blew against my flushed cheeks. I recoiled against the door, scared shitless, whispering every childhood prayer I could remember.

  “Hell’s not so bad.” The demon rose to its feet, towering above me, and brushed its coarse wings against my face. “You’ll grow used to the heat.” She blew out a stream of fire with her laughter. “Or perhaps it’s Annie Mae’s soul I’ll collect.”

  For a split second, I reconsidered my answer and felt the sting of defeat, then shook my head. No, the decision was made, and I couldn’t make the sacrifice. Not even for Mama.

  ****

  Sunday was a disaster. It began in Sunday school when Lilith waltzed through the door looking like a million bucks and took the empty chair next to mine. Bedazzled by her extraordinary good looks, every guy in our Singles class encircled her. Which left the other women in the class in a snit. All but for
me, of course. I couldn’t have cared less if she captured every single chap in Whiskey Creek. After abandoning Mama to the dark side, I felt lower than a junkyard dog. I’d slept none and had awakened in a black mood, punctuated by a splitting headache and burdened conscience.

  But Lilith didn’t stop there. She cast a spell over the entire congregation, including Pastor Inman. Even Roddy couldn’t peel his eyes off her. And even more surprisingly, Billie Jo failed to notice her husband’s preoccupation. The only male seemingly unaffected by Lilith’s beguiling presence happened to be Ryder, and I believe his immunity sprang from Deena’s tight grip on his arm. If his head swiveled in any direction, her nails bit down hard into his tender flesh. Several times I witnessed him squirming beside her on the pew. My sister's smile never withered.

  I don’t believe a single saint heard one word of the sermon. Every eye remained focused on Lilith and her enchanting smile. What really bugged the hell out of me was the fact that not one glorious saint had enough spiritual insight to see the nasty scaly beast beneath the flawless skin. Not one.

  The whole scene made me sick. After the service, Lilith was besieged by parishioners. Which suited her fine, by the wide, catlike smile plastered across her beaming face. When my parents joined me outside on the lawn, I tried to coax Mama into rescinding her invitation to the beast of the facial room, but nothing doing. Lilith was coming to the farm for our Sunday after preachin’ meal she said in a strong don’t mess with me today kinda voice. And I’d better turn my frown upside down, she added with a haughty lift of her brow.

  Just as I started to express my displeasure of her unwanted advice, Daddy shot me a narrowed look of concern. He shook his head and made a motion of zipping his lips. I took the hint and backed off. But I wasn’t deterred. My mind shifted into high gear, and I came up with another plan. A plan that involved a certain Southern ghost with the charm of a washed-up beauty queen and the bite of a killer bee. I glanced around at the lingering crowd. I could hardly contact the netherworld here on church grounds with so many eyeballs on the prowl. No, I needed to head for the house.