Welcome to Last Chance (Last Chance #1)(16)
Author: Hope Ramsay

The little old lady smiled at Jane, and her apple cheeks plumped up. “So,” she said in a girlish voice, “I understand you arrived a few nights ago on the nine-thirty bus from Atlanta, right before Hurricane Jane hit.”

Jane dropped her gaze to Mrs. Hanks’s nails. “Yes, ma’am.”

She immediately felt the collective gazes of every one of the women in the shop directed at her. She had a feeling they all knew she’d spent the night with Clayton P. at the no-tell motel. It was a mystery, really, why they had decided not to run her out of town on a rail.

Although, she had to admit, Mrs. Bray had not been very friendly to her. But the others all seemed quite interested—too interested, really—in her background.

Mrs. Polk took that moment to pop her head from beneath the dryer and said, “Miriam, I heard Bill Ellis had dinner last night with Jenny Carpenter. Can you imagine? That woman must be ten years older than he is, and she’s a Methodist. A Methodist? Please tell me that she’s not the one for him.”

Lillian snorted. “Don’t you worry about Bill. He’s only being lured by her apple turnovers. You know how Jenny wins the pie-baking competition every year at the Watermelon Festival.”

“That may be, but you know what they say about the path to a man’s heart. I like Jenny well enough, but she’s too old for Bill. He needs a young wife who can give him children. And certainly not a Methodist. Isn’t that right, Miz Miriam?”

Miriam’s cherubic smile never wavered. “Well, I’m pretty sure Bill’s going to end up with a woman who can cook.”

“You can’t be serious.” This from Lillian. “Not a Methodist, Miriam.”

The old lady shrugged. “Lillian, it’s not my place to question the Lord’s plan. The fact is, Bill Ellis is a man who enjoys a piece of pie from time to time. It’s one of his more endearing qualities.”

Jane tried hard not to laugh at this. Gossip came with beauty shop territory, like unwanted advances came with waiting tables at the Shrimp Shack.

Last night, Jane had nothing in her cupboard, a limited wardrobe, and no electricity. Now, thanks to Ruby Rhodes, she had groceries and a box of hand-me-down clothes from Stone’s late wife. The power company had restored the electricity, allowing her to start her new job. And, by the end of the day, Jane would have some spending money. Ruby had already promised to pay her on a daily basis for the first week while she got herself settled.

The Universe was providing the things Jane had tried so hard to manifest. Of course, Ruby Rhodes seemed to be the author of most of this largesse. And that said a lot about Ruby. Jane could get to like the woman, even if she was a member of the God squad.

Jane finished Mrs. Hanks’s manicure just about the time Ruby finished Mrs. Bray’s set. Mrs. Bray went under the dryers, Mrs. Hanks had the dye washed off her hair and moved to Ruby’s workstation, and Miriam Randall eased herself into the chair across from Jane.

Jane took the old lady’s hand in hers. Miz Miriam had surprisingly warm hands for one so old. Her joints were misshapen with arthritis, but even so, her nails bore the evidence of a professional manicure.

She set Miriam’s right hand to soaking and began removing the polish and exfoliating and moisturizing her left.

“So,” the old lady said in a near whisper. “I hear you come from West Virginia.”

Boy, the news did travel fast, didn’t it? “Yes, ma’am. Originally. I’ve been living in Florida the last seven years or so.”

“And what brings you to Last Chance?”

Well, there was no real answer to this, was there? She was tempted to tell Miriam that it was none of her business. But that wouldn’t stop the old lady from being nosy. “Just traveling around, seeing the South.” It was a bald-faced lie, and her cheeks flamed the minute the words left her mouth.

Miriam Randall said nothing in response, but the slight tension in her hands was enough for Jane to know Miriam hadn’t bought her line. Jane worked in silence for a while, pushing back Miriam’s cuticles.

“You know, sugar,” the old woman said, leaning in and speaking in an even quieter voice, “I reckon sometimes it’s hard to stay on the right road when you’re traveling around. I mean, the road signs can be so confusing at times.”

Jane hesitated. What was the old woman talking about? She looked up into those anachronistic eyeglasses. Miriam’s dark brown eyes blinked and a little knowing smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. The customer was always right, wasn’t she?

“I mean,” Miriam continued. “Sometimes it’s just easy to get lost and end up on a road with a lot of potholes and detours.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is.”

“I reckon Last Chance looks a lot like one of those detours, doesn’t it?”

Jane stopped filing and returned her gaze to the old lady. The woman had a real smile on her lips now, and her apple cheeks had dimpled right up. A girlish glint shone in her eyes as well, like she was up to mischief and enjoying every moment of it.

“It’s all right, sugar, you don’t have to lie,” Miriam continued. “I know very well Last Chance isn’t exactly a destination spot for young folks.”

“No, ma’am, it isn’t. But sometimes the Universe takes us places for reasons of its own. It’s up to us to make the best of what’s handed to us.”

Miriam chuckled. “Well, amen to that. But I reckon I would say that the Lord works in mysterious ways.”

Jane said nothing to this and went back to filing and listening vaguely to the conversation that Ruby and Thelma were having about a bake sale for the Volunteer Fire Department.

“You know,” Miriam said several moments later, “you shouldn’t just settle.”

“Settle?”

“That’s what I said, sugar. You shouldn’t just try to make the best of a bad situation. That’s settling. The Lord expects more of you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” To Jane’s knowledge the Lord had never expected anything of her. The Lord had been absent from her life, which was just fine with her.

“No, I mean it. You should ask for more.”

“More what?”

“More of everything. You should ask for what you want,” Mrs. Randall said, and for an instant she sounded like one of Jane’s self-help tapes. But that wasn’t possible. Miriam was a church lady. And, in Jane’s experience, church ladies usually didn’t understand the concept of positive affirmations.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane said noncommittally and went back to filing.

“What is it you want, Jane?”

Well, now, that was a zinger of a question. She stopped filing and looked up again. An absolutely avid look had stolen into Mrs. Randall’s stare.

“I want what everyone wants,” she said.

“And what’s that?”

She wanted the bad stuff to take a left turn and leave her life permanently. She wanted a place to hang her hat and call home. She wanted someone there who cared about her.

Oh, yeah, and she wanted to sing. But that was secondary to all the other stuff.

She didn’t say all this aloud, though. Instead she shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual stuff. Health and happiness.” She let go of Miriam’s hand and turned toward the box of nail colors and spoke before Miriam could pursue the conversation. “Now, Mrs. Randall, what color do you want this week?”

“Oh, I don’t care. Red is usually what I get.”

“Well, let’s see, I’ve got ‘Big Apple Red’ and ‘Thrill of Brazil.’ ” She pulled out the two shades.

“Oh, the ‘Thrill of Brazil,’ by all means.” Miriam paused for a moment. “I’ve never been to Brazil, have you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“And that’s my point.”

“What point?”

“You should be looking for the ‘Thrill of Brazil,’ sugar.”

“Now, Miriam, don’t you be telling my new manicurist that she should be taking off for Brazil. She’s only just arrived in Last Chance. Let the girl catch her breath before you have her going on trips to foreign lands.” Ruby looked up into the mirror. Her reflected gaze looked strangely worried, as if she had taken Miriam Randall’s words literally.

“Oh, Ruby. Even Jane knew I was speaking figuratively. Didn’t you, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lillian Bray stuck her head out from under the dryer. “Did Miriam say something important?” There was a surprisingly eager look on Mrs. Bray’s face.

“She just told Jane she should be looking for the thrill of Brazil.”

“Brazil, really? You reckon she’s going to take a trip soon?” Lillian asked, sounding as if Jane’s departure from Last Chance couldn’t come soon enough.

“No,” Miriam said in a flat voice. “I declare, you ladies have no imagination. I was just telling Jane, in figurative terms, that she shouldn’t settle. She should be looking for the whole Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White shebang, right down to the hero on the white charger—you know, like Sir Galahad.”

Jane’s hand moved involuntarily, and her brush grazed Miriam’s cuticle. “Uh, there is no such thing, Mrs. Randall. Now look what you made me do with this foolish talk.” She reached for a cotton ball.

“A knight in shining armor?” echoed Lillian Bray. “My goodness, Miriam, you must be slipping. You would have Bill Ellis married up to Jenny Carpenter, who is a Methodist and too old to bear his children. And now you’re telling Jane she should be looking for a Sir Galahad? Lord only knows what she’ll end up with.” Lillian gave Jane a narrow stare down her long, pinched nose. She raised one eyebrow, and Jane felt momentarily paralyzed.

Yup, Lillian Bray knew all about last Wednesday night at the Peach Blossom Motor Court. That look pretty much summed it up: A girl like her, who would give herself away cheaply like that, had no possible hope of ever being rescued by a pure soul like Sir Galahad.

“Well, that’s true,” Miriam said.

“What’s true?” Lillian asked. “Didn’t you just say that—”

“I know what I said, Lillian,” Miriam rejoined. “I’m not senile. The fact of the matter is that the Lord knows who Jane will end up with. After all, it’s the Lord’s plan.”

Hoo boy. These church ladies were beyond belief. It was time to cut this discussion off at the pass.

“Well, thanks for the vote of support, Mrs. Randall,” Jane said. “But the truth of it is, the whole being-rescued thing is a fairy tale. I’m smart enough to know not to go looking for any kind of hero. I can take care of myself. Now, you need to sit still so I can finish up your nails without making any more mistakes.”

She gave the old lady a friendly but firm stare. Miriam met it with a knowing smile and a mischievous gleam in her dark brown eyes. “I know you can take care of yourself, sugar. The question is whether you can take care of the crazy hero who’s going to come to the rescue, whether you want him to or not.”