Isle of Palms (37 page)

“Okay, Anna Lutz Abbot, I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Fair warning,” I said, for no reason at all, sounding like a celibate nerd at an auction house.

When his lips touched mine I thought,
Okay, just throw me down right here. I don’t care.
I might never get tired of Arthur’s lips, I said to myself. He smelled right, he tasted right and he felt right. God in heaven, I thought as my heartbeat increased, I’m in trouble now.

We stood in the water’s edge, kissing, stopping to look at each other now and then and then kissing some more. We moved away from the water so we wouldn’t get soaked and continued kissing like teenagers.

“Arthur?”

“Hmmm?”

“I haven’t felt like this in forever,” I said, letting my feelings hang out there to be abused.

“I want to make love to you, Anna.”

My voice squeaked. “I can’t,” I said.

“Why not,” he said, “you got a headache?”

“Worse,” I said, “I got a teenager.”

“Right, we had better get back? You want to go?”

“Not yet,” I said.

Neither one of us moved. I put my hands on his face and traced his jawline with my fingers. I swore to myself that he had the ideal jaw and the perfect chin. He grabbed my wrist and kissed every fingertip and then the center of my palm. The tide washed over our feet and we stepped away again. This time I leaned into his chest with my arms around his waist and he held me close. I could have stood there for a very long time, maybe until sunrise. I felt like I was falling over the edge of the world.

Later, as I tossed myself around the bed, trying not to rouse Emily from her sleep, I told myself the feelings I had for Arthur were just physical. On the other hand, I really liked him. He was adorable, attentive, smart, solvent, had a dumb but lively sense of humor . . . I had a whole list going in my head when suddenly another country was heard from.

“Did you kiss him?”

“Yeah,” I said, “big time.”

“That’s good, Mom. Now, let’s get some sleep, okay?”

Show Time!

DO I need to tell anyone here that I was in the salon at seven-thirty, dressed to kill—okay, maybe to maim—makeup on, drinking my third cup of coffee, and I had already read my horoscope and Liz Smith? Bettina and Brigitte were coming in at eight-thirty, followed by Lucy, Jim, and Emily at nine. I checked the book. Brigitte had appointments all morning, Bettina had appointments all day, and I had a few, scattered over the morning and the afternoon.
Anna’s Cabana
(heaven help me with that idiotic name) was almost open for business.

I looked up when I heard Bettina’s ancient Chevrolet come moaning and chugging into the parking lot, looking for a place to die. It lurched forward, and with each lurch a considerable amount of dark fumes billowed from underneath it. When she threw it into park, it appeared to give out its last gasp. Fanning away the clouds of stench, Bettina was dwarfed by the sheer size of her car. She opened the enormous trunk and pulled out a heavy box. I called out to her as she crossed the empty parking spaces, her back arched from the weight, taking quick steps on her platform sandals.

“Hey! That’s some
vee-hickle
you got there, sugar! You want me to call Father Michaels to give it the Last Rites?”

“Yeah, right? I told Tony, I said, ‘Look, if I get a ticket for causing a health hazard from The Yacht, you can pay it! Not me!’ ” Then she saw the salon entrance. “Holy whopping shit! What the hell happened?”

“My ex-husband got in a mood. Come on in and see. Here, let me help you with that.” The Yacht, indeed. More like the Kon-Tiki.

She went back to get another box. Bettina from Brooklyn had arrived and she was moving in. The one I carried must’ve had a thousand bottles of nail polish in it. I dropped it on the bench by the door. She was right behind me with another box.

“I ordered polish. I guess I forgot to tell you.”

“I owned it so I brought it. What the
hell . . . ?
This place looks like something outta Vegas!”

This made me nervous, to say the least. I was insecure enough as it was. “Do you think it’s too much?”

“Whaddya nuts? It totally rocks! I love it!” She stood there, little skinny chicken that she was, in her black stretch capri pants and black halter, clacking away on her gum. She looked all around and was grinning from ear to ear, commenting on everything. “Would you look at this coffeemaker? All we had at my last salon was a Bunn machine! And this bamboo? Jeez! I’m in the rain forest here! All these ferns? Gorgeous! It’s the hills of Costa Rica!”

“Really?”

“I swear to God, Anna. This is gonna be all over town by tonight! We might make CNN with this joint!
People
magazine! Who knows?” She stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “So. Where do I put my table? I gotta do tips on Mrs. Milligan at nine-thirty. Wait till everyone sees this! Hot shit.”

“Put it in between the chairs on the left, I think.” Her small manicuring table could roll anywhere. “Actually, put it wherever you like the light.”

“There ain’t much light in the rain forest, right? Well, I’ll pull a couple of those bottom hoses around to light my table. The good thing about this table is that I can bring it to the client, you know? You don’t
have
to tell me
why
your
ex-husband
did this. I mean, it’s none of
my
business. I always mind my own business. Learned that lesson in New York, if you know what I mean.”

“My ex-husband is as gay as a goose and he loves to create . . . I don’t know, scenery?”

“He’s
what?”

“Listen, Bettina, here’s what I’m thinking. This salon has gotta have the seal of confession between us girls. We’re gonna be living together, right? We’re all gonna be telling each other everything sooner or later. So, yeah, my ex-husband is gay, but there’s a story that goes with it. . . .”

“I’ll
bet
there is!”

“And, I’ll tell you all about him and me. Eventually. In fact, he’s coming in this morning. You’ll
adore
him. Everyone does.”

“Jeez, my Bobby thinks decorating is the same thing as making a pyramid outta his empty beer cans! Right? Ain’t it the truth?”

Bettina began to laugh and sort of snort like crazy and her whole little body shook when she did. It was the kind of contagious laughter that I had been starving for, but I sure hated to think about her cussing in front of clients. I never did that and I hoped she wouldn’t. I made us two cups of coffee and handed one to her. We clinked the rims and toasted.

“Welcome to Anna’s Cabana,” I said. “My husband and daughter changed the name.”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“I never shit anybody, Bettina, and never say ‘shit’ in front of the clients or you gotta put a dollar in the cussing box.”

“No problem. You ain’t gonna get my money.”

“Good! Mine either!” Well, I thought, I hope that takes care of that! “Yeah, so they changed the name and ordered a new sign. Sign’s supposed to be coming this morning. Then we’ll have two. This one’s neon, no less. We’re gonna have a little confusion over that, but I figured what the heck. They were so excited and full of beans over it and I don’t care too much.”

“I woulda done the same thing. After all, they built you a movie set and everything.”

“Exactly!”

“Shit! I got it! Here’s what we gotta do! We gotta make T-shirts! We can sell ’em! On the front they can read
ANNA’S CABANA
and on the back we can put
FORMERLY KNOWN AS THE PALMS SALON AND SPA FOR ABOUT FIVE MINUTES!
”

“Definitely!”
Definitely not!

Well, I thought, shoot. I’m holding a one-way ticket to Tacky Town and the train’s leaving the station. Too late to get a refund. Maybe everything would all work out fine. I sure hoped so because I had everything I owned—and
didn’t own
—riding on it. I showed her how to use the coffeemaker and then we began arranging our work areas. It was about eight-fifteen when Brigitte arrived.

Brigitte was the total opposite of Bettina and that was probably a good thing. Too many nut bags in my tiny
cabana
would drive me out of my mind. She swung in the door and stood there looking around in astonishment, which I completely expected.

“Okay. Help me here. Am I in the right place?”

“It’s a long story, but yeah, you’re in the right place. Pretty crazy, huh?”

Brigitte was quiet for a few minutes while she thought about her response—a quality I would no doubt come to value, given the velocity of Bettina’s mouth.

“Yeah, but you know what? Every single salon in Charleston looks the same—boor-ing! This place has personality!” She took the cup of coffee I handed her and gave a low whistle at the bamboo walls and waiting area. “I like it; I really do. In fact, I like it a whole lot! It reminds me of a boutique from the seventies or something, but, like, these lights and everything are from
The Jetsons
. You know what I mean? The
real
question is when did you do all of this?”

“My ex-husband is a Whirling Dervish. He got a bunch of friends of his together and they went insane.”

“Tell ’em the next time they get bored they can take it out on my house! Man!”

“You can tell him yourself; he’ll be here shortly.”

Brigitte was a total professional. You could tell by the way she dressed. She wore black linen trousers and black leather slides with a starched white linen shirt. Somehow, she wasn’t wrinkled, a miraculous feature given the humidity. Her collar was open and her sleeves were rolled up. Her makeup was natural looking, and her brown bob was shining and moving. This was a woman of some no-nonsense style who could handle anybody—meaning an irate client—with a cool head. I hoped.

At eight-thirty, in rolled the rest of the troops—Emily, Jim, and Lucy.

“Hey! I brought Krispy Kreme doughnuts! Y’all come have one!” Lucy said.

Everybody said hello, everybody had a doughnut, and, inside of thirty minutes, we had our first client in Brigitte’s chair and another at Bettina’s table. Jim, who had clearly established himself as everyone’s darling, hooked up the stereo. Pretty soon Frank Sinatra songs filled the air with nostalgia and romance.

I was combing out Mary Meehan’s freshly washed hair when the door opened wide and who stood in the entry but Miss Mavis.

“I’ve come to make an appointment with Anna for a wash and set,” she said to Lucy. “Does she do pin curls?”

You could tell by the way she held herself she didn’t much like having to deal with Lucy.

“Well, hey, Miss Mavis!” Lucy said. “If you want to maybe read the paper for a few minutes, I’ll bet she could squeeze you in right away.”

“Not today?” Miss Mavis said, and leaned in to hear what Lucy had said repeated.

“I said,
Yes! She can take you in a few minutes! Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll get you a cup of coffee?”

Unfortunately, Lucy’s reply was a little too loud for Miss Mavis.

“You don’t have to shout, young lady, I’m not
deaf,
you know.” Miss Mavis drew herself up in a huff and turned away, taking a seat on the far side of the reception area.

I took a deep breath and rested my hands on the back of the chair for a moment. I had known my client, Mary Meehan, forever.

She giggled a little and said, “Who in the
world
is that woman?”

“She’s my next-door neighbor.” I just shook my head. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

I went up front as fast as I could. Miss Mavis was sitting in a knot, as far away from Lucy as possible. If body language could be used as a weapon, Lucy would have been missing a limb. I sat down beside her. I knew now that when I talked to her I had to be sure she was watching my mouth as I spoke. I took her hands into mine and I said to her what I thought she needed to hear from someone who cared about her sensitivity.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Miss Mavis! What a wonderful surprise! I just need ten minutes, okay?”

“That’s fine,” she said, “and I think I
would
be glad to have that cup of coffee now. Just black.”

Lucy, whose face was tomato red, jumped up to get it. Miss Mavis shot her another blow dart.

“You just stay right there, Lucy. Anna will get it for me, won’t you, dear?”

I already had the pod in the machine and the coffee was beginning to drip. I winked at Lucy, which made her feel somewhat better, and smiled at Miss Mavis.

“How about a doughnut?” I said to her.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” she said, waiting for the slightest encouragement.

“Come
on,”
I said. “They’re still warm.”

“Well, all right. One can’t hurt much. Gotta keep my figure, you know.”

I handed her the coffee and a doughnut on a napkin and went back to Mary, who was deeply engrossed in a cell phone call with her husband.

“Just put Sophie in the house,” she said.

Sophie was her dog, not her daughter.

“Sorry!”
I whispered to her.

I started to blow out her hair and noticed in the reflection of the mirror that Emily was standing around doing nothing. When I was through with Mary, Emily and I were due for a chat. It made me crazy when she did this.
Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,
as Sister Guilt used to say. If there was one thing I truly detested, it was sullen teenagers standing around collecting attitude like metallic filings. She needed to find something to do or else she was going to drive me crazy.

“Emily? Honey? Go get Daddy, okay?”

Jim was in the back unpacking another box of something he had bought to enhance the
Cabana
. He came over with four bottles of hair product.

“This stuff is guaranteed to keep your hair straight like the runway girls,” he said.