Читать книгу The Man She Married - Ann Defee - Страница 12

When Monday finally rolled around Maizie couldn’t wait for her workday to start. She needed some info and there was no better place to get it than her shop. The right guy for the jealousy gig was out there, all she had to do was find him.

Maizie fluffed her hair, put on her best Miss Georgia third runner-up smile and prepared to greet her customers. Jeannine Crabtree was scheduled for a makeover. The crazy old bat expected a miracle. Too bad miracles were in short supply.

The good news, if there was any, was that Jeannine was related to at least a quarter of the people in town. So if the perfect guy was around, she’d know about him. The only question was whether she’d share.

“Maizie? Are you here?” PJ called as she opened the front door. Hmm, that girl could charm anyone—even Jeannine Crabtree. She could interrogate the old witch without her even realizing what was happening.

“I’m here.” Maizie threw a smock over her dress. “I’ll be out in just a sec.”

“I stopped in at the bakery on my way to work. I brought beignets.” PJ displayed a white sack that had a slight smudge of grease on the bottom. “They’re hot.”

Maizie groaned. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman. You know I’m trying to lose a couple of pounds.”

“Fiddlesticks, you look fantastic. I wish I had a little more, um…” PJ made a bouncy motion with her hands in front of her chest. “Cleavage,” she finished with a giggle.

Maizie grabbed the bag, retrieved one of the New Orleans doughnuts and took a big bite. “Oh my God, this is better than sex.” She almost purred in ecstasy. “I think I’ll give you a raise.”

PJ arched one eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, not really. But if you do Jeannine Crabtree’s makeover I’ll be eternally grateful.”

Village legend had it that you could walk into Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir looking like Cinderella’s ugly step-sister and walk out as Carmen Electra. Maizie claimed it was all in the magic of a mascara wand. Whatever it was, women of all ages had turned into believers—even the crabby Ms. Crabtree.

PJ snorted. “I’ll just bet you would. That woman’s as mean as a junkyard dog. If I can stay out of her way, I do.” She graced Maizie with her best insincere smile. “Sorry, my schedule is completely booked.”

She didn’t look a bit contrite. “Oh, all right.” Maizie was a smart girl. She knew when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

“I almost forgot,” PJ said as she prepared the cash register for the day. “I saw Liza at the post office this morning. She wants to meet you for lunch. You’re supposed to call her at work.”

“Thanks.” Maizie picked up the cordless phone and punched in her twin’s number.

“Liza Hender…Maynard speaking.”

“Forget your name?”

“Up yours.”

“That’s not very lawyerly. You should try to be more professional.” Maizie broke into giggles. She was the elder by a mere ten minutes but had embraced the role of big sister.

“Seriously, PJ said you want to do lunch. Where and when?”

“Hold on a second.” Liza must have put her hand over the receiver because the voices were in the backyard muffled. Several seconds later she came back on the line. “Okay, that’s taken care of. Don’t you hate Monday morning crises?”

“Yep,” Maizie said as she rummaged through her makeup kit. Multitasking was her specialty and spiffing up old lady Crabtree was going to require every trick she knew.

“Zack said there’s a new barbecue place out near the highway. Do you want to try it?”

Maizie laughed. Today was the first day of her new diet and she’d already gorged herself on a deep-fried doughnut and now she was booked for some down-home barbecue. She could almost feel the fat cells multiplying on her derriere.

“Sure, why not? How about one o’clock? The noon rush should be over by then.”

“I’ll see you there,” Liza said, and then almost as an afterthought she continued. “You might want to change into something old. I hear the food’s pretty greasy.”

Wonderful—big globs of grease, too. Just what she needed. On that cheerful note, the bell over the door heralded Ms. Crabtree’s entrance.

“Okay. I’ve gotta go. See you soon.” It was time to paste on a smile, pull out the white-glove manners and get on with life.

“Jeannine, how are you doin’? I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” Maizie snapped a plastic cape open with a flourish. “Let’s get you seated.” She led her customer to a chair at the back of the boutique. “And make you beautiful.”

Maizie could’ve sworn she’d heard PJ giggle, but when she looked over, her friend wore a benign smile.

Jeannine’s face, on the other hand, was set in a perpetual scowl. Maybe there was something to the old wives’ tale about frowning.

“Tell you what, Ms. Crabtree.” Maizie smoothed some of the tension out of the older woman’s forehead. “I’m going to give you a complimentary refresher mask. It’ll make your skin as soft as a baby’s bottom.” And if she believed that, fish were going to start walking on their hind legs. Maizie slathered pink gel over her client’s face, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. In this case, she had to trust the placebo effect to get the job done.

“You relax while the mask dries. Don’t talk or it’ll crack.” Maizie patted Jeannine’s shoulder before strolling up front.

The only other customer was a woman with a baby in a pram. Maizie recognized her from the country club as one of Magnolia Bluff’s newest transplants from Atlanta. She was petite, tan, blond, beautiful and stylishly dressed. Yep, this young matron had the potential to become a good customer—very good, indeed.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” One of the reasons Miss Scarlett’s was so successful was the friendly atmosphere and personal service. “I’m Maizie Walker. I own the Boudoir.”

The blonde extended her hand. “I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Paige Butler. I just love your store,” she gushed. “And this town is terrific. We’ve only been here six months, but I feel as if I’ve known people forever.”

Maizie glanced at PJ who was already loaded down with clothes that Paige had pulled off the racks in the few short minutes she’d been there. “If there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”

About that time the baby decided to join the party by letting out a wail.

“This is Ali,” Paige introduced her daughter. She was obviously a proud parent. “She wants me to hold her all the time. My mama says I’m spoiling her but I can’t help myself. I want to eat her up with a spoon.”

Paige’s daughter was a little dumpling. She was dressed all in pink and had a bow tied in her straw-colored hair.

“Do you mind if I pick her up?” Maizie tickled the baby’s chin.

“Be my guest, please.” Paige leaned over to readjust Ali’s frilly dress. “I’ve been fantasizing about having fifteen minutes to myself.”

“Ms. Crabtree’s mask won’t be ready for another ten minutes,” Maizie told Paige, ignoring her client’s grumbling in the background. “You two go on back to the dressing room and take your time.”

“Yes, ma’am. I surely will. Thanks.”

“Hey, Snookums,” Maizie cooed to the baby. “What a little cutie you are.” Ali’s crying stopped almost immediately when Maizie lifted her out of the pram.

When Hannah was a baby Maizie had spent countless hours in an antique rocking chair she’d inherited from her Grammy Nelson. On a whim she’d put that lovely old chair in Miss Scarlett’s. It was a beautiful addition to the décor as well as a perfect place for meditation when time allowed.

Maizie hummed and rocked while “Crabass’s” mask hardened. Baby Ali fell asleep almost immediately. Maizie kissed the top of the baby’s head, breathing in that sweet infant smell. There was nothing quite as innocent as a sleeping angel—awake was a different story. Ten peaceful minutes passed before Maizie admitted she had to do something about her client.

“PJ, Paige,” she whispered, trying to be as quiet. “I need to take care of Ms. Crabtree.”

“About time,” Jeannine muttered.

“We’re finished.” PJ appeared with an armload of clothing. “Paige found lots of stuff,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

The young mom tucked the sleeping baby back into the pram and then pulled out her platinum American Express card. “Miz Walker, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking care of Ali.”

“You’re very welcome. We like to think of ourselves as a full-service operation. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to rinse off my client’s mask.”

“It’s about time!” Mrs. C exclaimed when Maizie rejoined her.

Who could mistake those dulcet tones?

“Your skin’s going to feel so soft that you won’t mind the wait.”

“I doubt that, but get on with it.” The woman’s gravelly voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Here we go.” Maizie dabbed cleanser on Jeannine’s face. Although she’d used her very best product, she couldn’t see a dime’s worth of difference.

“How is that? Doesn’t your skin feel better?” Maizie turned Ms. Crabtree’s chair toward the mirror.

She employed her best shopkeeper’s voice to make certain she didn’t utter anything particularly vile. Fortunately Maizie was saved by the bell—the one on the front door.

“Hey, Paige. How’s it going?” The sound of a man’s voice in Miss Scarlett’s was unusual enough to be remarkable.

“Trip, my goodness, what are you doing here?” Paige sounded more like a lovesick teen than a mom. Or maybe a femme fatale.

When Maizie glanced up to check out what all the fuss was about, she was almost bowled over. Heavens to Betsy. The man talking to Paige could be Pierce Brosnan’s younger brother. Even the vestal virgins would be cheering.

“Maizie, PJ, this is Trip Fitzgerald. He’s the tennis coach at the country club. A bunch of us take lessons from him.”

How interesting. No wonder the gorgeous hunk had tanned legs and broad shoulders. Trip Fitzgerald was exactly what the jealousy Cupid had ordered.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, you’re new in town, too, right?” Maizie walked over to shake the newcomer’s hand.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been here a month. I’m originally from Atlanta.”

“Really. Well, welcome to Magnolia Bluffs. I hope we’ve been hospitable.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better.” His grin was boyish, charming and damned near perfect—an orthodontist’s dream.

“I need to get a birthday present for my mother,” he said, looking around. “Several of my students said you’re the best place in town.”

“We certainly try to be. PJ—”

PJ almost tripped over her own feet racing to his side. “I can help you. What does your mom like? We have all kinds of pretties.”

Before he could answer PJ was setting up a display of gift items that would be daunting for a seasoned shopper.

“Wow. That’s quite a selection,” he said, showcasing that grin again. “You ladies should come for tennis lessons. We have something for everyone. Groups, privates, semiprivates, you name it, we’ve got it. I think you’d really like it. It’s good exercise and a great way to get a tan.”

Maizie’s mind was whirling a mile a minute—which generally landed her in a heap of trouble.

“Tennis lessons sound like exactly what I need.” Were they ever.