Count Your Blessings Read online

  Copyright © 2013 by Sharon Sala

  Cover and internal design © 2015 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Dawn Adams

  Cover image © Jamie Grill/Getty Images

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Originally published as Color Me Bad by Sourcebooks Landmark, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc., in 2013.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  A sneak peek from I’ll Stand By You

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  At one time or another in your lifetime, a fresh start is always a good idea. Like starting over with a new box of crayons and a blank sheet of paper, or realizing the spot on the dress you intended to wear isn’t coming out after all and you go back to the closet for that second choice.

  If you take it with the intent the universe expects, it’s a gift. Just because it doesn’t come with wrapping paper and ribbons doesn’t mean it won’t be the best gift you ever received.

  This book is dedicated to new beginnings and the people brave enough to take the chance and make them.

  Chapter 1

  Ruby Dye showed up in Blessings, Georgia, twelve years earlier with nothing to her name but her divorce papers and a cosmetology license. She had just enough money from her divorce settlement to set up a beauty shop she called The Curl Up and Dye, with very little left over. It was a simple plan. If she didn’t cut enough hair, she wouldn’t eat. But as it turned out, she had arrived in Blessings to provide a service that had been missing. Before the first week was out, she was booked solid. Considering it was the first good thing that had happened to her in a long time, she was grateful.

  She made it a practice to change her hair color and style on a biyearly basis as a means of advertising her own skill, and last night had been the night for another change. She’d gone home with shoulder-length brown hair and auburn highlights. This morning her hair was chin length and red. Audacious Red was the color on the box, and she considered it a good measure of her attitude. She came in the back door, unloaded the box of doughnuts fresh from the bakery, and started coffee.

  Vesta and Vera Conklin, her fortysomething identical twin stylists would be here soon, and neither one of them was fit for conversation until they’d had something sweet and a cup of coffee in their bellies. Ruby loved the both of them, but they were the most opinionated women she’d ever met, and their confrontational attitude was probably why neither one of them was married.

  At thirty-two, Mabel Jean Doolittle was the youngest employee. She did manicures and pedicures at The Curl Up and Dye and, when they were extra busy, helped out on shampoo duty, as well.

  She was a feisty little blond with a scar on her forehead from going headfirst into the windshield of her boyfriend’s car when she was only sixteen. It was a daily reminder to never make stupid-ass choices in men again.

  Ruby was proud of what she’d accomplished. The one thing she hadn’t expected was for the shop to become the local confessional, which it had. Eventually, every secret in town came out at The Curl Up and Dye.

  She was running the dust mop over the black and white tiles when the back door opened. Vesta and Vera entered, both wearing pink smocks and the same pissy scowl on their faces.

  “Morning, girls. Coffee is hot. Doughnuts are fresh. Help yourselves,” Ruby said.

  “Morning, Sister,” they echoed, then stopped. “Nice hair color,” they added, and headed for the break room.

  Ruby smiled as she headed for the register to count out the money for the till. Nearly everyone in town called her “Sister,” and she liked it. It made her feel like she was part of a great big family. Once the money was in the drawer, she moved to the front door. She was just about to turn the Closed sign to Open when she saw Alma Button pull up in front of the shop.

  The fact that it was August 15 and Alma was driving the family van made Ruby wince. It must be time for back-to-school haircuts for Alma’s six boys. When she saw the side door open and boys spilling out like puppies turned loose in a barn full of chickens, she took a deep breath and yelled out, “Girls, grab your scissors! Here comes Alma and her boys.”

  The twins stepped out of the break room. On a scale of one to ten, their tolerance for children was a three, and judging from their expressions, that had just plummeted to a one.

  Vera was muttering beneath her breath as she brushed powdered-sugar crumbs off her smock.

  Vesta frantically stirred a second packet of sugar into her coffee.

  Ruby turned the sign to Open and unlocked the door.

  “Morning, Alma. Y’all are here early.”

  She smiled at the boys trailing in behind their mother.

  From the looks on their faces, they were no happier to be here than Ruby and her girls were to see them coming.

  “Morning, Ruby,” Alma echoed, and gave the boys a warning look. “You know Joe down at the barber shop is still in the hospital from his hip replacement, and I didn’t want to have to drive all the way to Savannah with six boys just to get their haircuts. I figured if we came early we could avail ourselves of your ‘walk-ins welcome’ offer.”

  Ruby pointed to the three open stylist chairs. “Yes, I heard about Joe. They say he’ll be out of the hospital in another couple of weeks but won’t open back up for a while yet.”

  “That’s what I heard, too,” Alma said.

  Ruby pointed at the chairs. “Okay, boys, who’s first? Three of you grab yourselves a seat and we’ll get this over. My goodness, you all have grown. Looks like no more booster seats for the Button boys, right?”

  “I’m six now and tall for my age,” Cooter announced.

  Billy Joe punched his little brother on the arm.

  “Big deal, Cooter. I’m almost eight.”

  “Shut up, the both of you,” Larry muttered. At ten, he considered himself beyond that.

  Ruby heard what sounded like a slight whistle, followed by the scent of an odorous fart. She turned on the ceiling fan and pretended not to notice, but was guessing it was either Jesse or James, the twelve-year-old twins, who were suddenly interested in the display of hair gel.

  “Madre, someone farted!” Cooter yelled.

  Alma glared at her son. “Hush your mouth,” she
hissed. “He’s learning Spanish from Sesame Street,” she added, hoping the use of a second language overrode her other child’s social faux pas.

  Vesta’s nose wrinkled in disapproval, both for the smell and the task ahead.

  Bobby Button, who had been nicknamed Belly before he started first grade, took a seat in Ruby’s chair, refusing to acknowledge the boys he’d come in with. He would turn fifteen in a week and eyed his hair with regret. He’d been growing it all summer and was pissed at having to give it up. When he saw his mother watching him, he glared.

  She glared back. Whether they liked it or not, part of getting her six boys ready for a new year of school meant buzz cuts, and they had Belly’s entrance into second grade to blame. Before his first month in second grade was over, he had been infected with head lice and proceeded to share the infection with everyone else in the family before Alma knew that he had them.

  By the time she had the scourge under control, she’d quit having sex with her husband, claiming it was partly his fault for giving her nothing but boys; burned every piece of bed linen she owned; and shaved the boys bald. Her skin had crawled for months afterward. Although it had never happened again and she finally went back to her wifely duties of submitting to her husband’s sexual advances, she was thoroughly convinced the scourge remained under control because of her due diligence to cleanliness and the removal of most of her sons’ hair.

  The twins climbed up in the other two chairs, somewhat fascinated by the fact that the women who were about to cut their hair were also twins. They looked in the mirror, then at each other, and giggled. Then they looked at the expressions on the hairstylists’ faces and frowned. Obviously, Vera and Vesta were not as amused.

  “The usual?” Vera asked, as she put the cape around a twin.

  “How short?” Vesta asked.

  Alma folded her arms across her bosom. “The usual. Very short.”

  When the clippers began to buzz, Cooter covered his eyes. Billy Joe fell backward onto the floor, pretending he was dead, and Larry was picking his nose.

  It was an auspicious beginning to what would turn out to be an eventful day.

  • • •

  By noon, the foot traffic in the salon was slowing down. Mabel Jean didn’t have another manicure until after 1:00 p.m. and had gone across the street to Granny’s Country Kitchen for lunch. Vesta and Vera were in the back eating lunch they’d brought from home, leaving Ruby up front to finish Patty June Clymer’s weekly hairdo.

  Patty June’s husband, Conrad, was the preacher at the Freewill Baptist Church. Up until the last few weeks, he always had his hair trimmed when he brought Patty for her appointment. But for the past six weeks, Preacher Clymer had been a no-show.

  The first trip Patty June made alone seemed of no consequence to anyone, especially Patty June. The second one she was a little bit miffed but made all kinds of excuses. After that, she hadn’t mentioned his name again.

  But when she arrived alone today, Ruby could almost feel her anger. The little preacher’s wife hadn’t said a word to anyone from the time she walked in the front door. Ruby knew better than to ask what was wrong.

  Then the bell jingled over the door.

  “Hey, Patty, excuse me a sec,” Ruby said, and headed for the front of the shop as a tall, leggy redhead walked in.

  “Bobbette. Long time no see,” Ruby said.

  “Hi, Sister! I haven’t been here in a while. I moved to Chesterville after Daddy died.”

  “Well, I’ll say! I didn’t know that,” Ruby said. “How can I help you?”

  Bobbette batted her fake eyelashes in double time and held out her right hand.

  “Can you believe it? One of my nails has popped off. Makes my finger looked naked. I was wondering if Mabel Jean had time to put on a new one.”

  “That’s acrylic, right?” Ruby asked.

  “Yes. I tried silk wrap once but I didn’t much like them. So can she fix it? I have a hot date and I don’t like to keep my honey waiting, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ooh, so you’ve got yourself a fellow, do you? What’s his name?”

  Bobbette giggled. “I never kiss and tell. So can Mabel Jean work me in?”

  “She’s across the street eating lunch at Granny’s. Why don’t you run over there and ask her?”

  “Thanks, Ruby. See you in a bit.”

  Bobbette Paulson made a quick exit as Ruby went back to Patty June.

  “Sorry for the wait,” Ruby said and picked up the hair dryer, then caught the pissed-off look on Patty June’s face.

  “Is everything all right?” Ruby asked.

  Patty countered with a question of her own. “Sister, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “How do you feel about fornication?”

  Ruby blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Patty lowered her voice. “How do you feel about people who fornicate with someone other than their spouse?”

  “Oh. You mean cheat? Sleep around? You’re asking me? Girl, that’s why I’m not married. My old man cheated on me for a year and I didn’t know it. Might never have known it if it hadn’t been for our next-door neighbor’s kid. He asked me who the blond lady was who came to my house every Tuesday and Thursday, which happened to be the days I went in to work early. Can you imagine?”

  Patty’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can imagine. What did you do?”

  “I left him, that’s what.”

  “But what did you do to him?”

  Ruby frowned. “Nothing.”

  Patty’s face turned a bright shade of pink.

  Ruby blinked. “Is everything okay?”

  Patty’s mouth pursed tighter than a miser’s fist. “Why, everything is just fine, and thank you for asking.”

  “Okay, sure,” Ruby said. She grabbed the hair dryer and the vent brush and started styling Patty June’s hair.

  A few minutes later the door jingled again. Ruby looked over her shoulder, but it was just Mabel Jean coming back with Bobbette.

  “So, Patty, is the economy affecting the collection plate on Sundays?” Ruby asked.

  Patty didn’t answer. She was staring into the mirror, her gaze locked on the two women sitting at the manicure table behind her. Every time Bobbette tossed her long red hair and laughed at something Mabel Jean said, a nerve twitched at the corner of Patty’s eyes and her lips clenched a little tighter.

  Ruby knew that look. It was pure, unadulterated hate, and that’s when it hit her. What if the reason the preacher had been absent for so long was because he was cheating on Patty? And what if Bobbette Paulson was the hussy he was banging, and Patty June knew it?

  All the hair stood up at the back of Ruby’s neck. If this was so, the fact that they were, by accident, suddenly sitting in the same room was a recipe for disaster. The faster she got these two women separated, the better.

  She turned the dryer up on high and finished off Patty’s hair in record time, grabbing the hair spray and blasting the style into the little brown helmet Patty June preferred. Ruby whisked the cape from around Patty’s shoulders and all but dragged her to the counter to pay.

  “There you go, Patty June! Want me to put you down for the same time next week?”

  Patty laid a twenty on the counter, set her purse down on the floor, and looked Ruby straight in the face.

  “I’m not sure if I’ll be out of jail by then.”

  Before Ruby could react, Patty made a run for the manicure table. Ruby gasped and tried to head her off, but Patty was faster.

  Patty snatched the battery-powered clippers from Vesta’s work station as she passed, then grabbed a hunk of Bobbette’s long red hair and yanked down as hard as she could.

  Bobbette screamed as her head popped back.

  Mabel Jean jumped. The nail form on Bobbette’s finger popped off, and the liquid
acrylic Mabel Jean was using turned over and began running off the table onto Bobbette’s shoe.

  Vesta and Vera flew out of the break room, still holding their salad bowls and their forks, saw what was going on, looked at each other, and then took another bite, chewing faster as they watched what ensued.

  Ruby was reaching for Patty’s arm, but it was all too late.

  The clippers were buzzing on high when Patty made the first swipe through Bobbette’s long red hair, cutting a neat swath from the hairline all the way to the crown. Then she shoved Bobbette’s head forward, smashing her nose against the manicure table, and finished the cut all the way to the nape of her neck, leaving a gap in her hair a good three inches wide.

  Ruby moaned. There was no way that was ever going to pass for a part.

  Bobbette’s top lip was busted; her nose was leaning sideways on her face and bleeding profusely. She was screeching bloody murder when she flew out of the chair to face her attacker. Then she saw who it was and choked down the next screech as Mabel Jean shoved a towel under her nose to catch the blood. Bobbette’s mind was racing, but her speech was seriously impaired by a swollen mouth and broken nose.

  “Uh… well, by lord, Batty Jude, hab you lost your bind?” Bobbette cried.

  “No. Just my husband, and for what it’s worth, you can have the little bastard. He’s not worth beans when it comes to sex, but I suspect you already know that by now. What you don’t know is that the money in our family is mine, not his. So once the Baptist ministry has their weekly meeting and fires his ass for fornicating with a harlot, he’s not only going to be out of a job, he’s going to be broke and homeless… bless his heart.”

  Bobbette was blinking back tears of pain, but her mind was racing. This was definitely not good news.

  “Do you have anything you want to say to me before you call the police?” Patty asked.

  Bobbette tilted her head back and shoved the towel tighter against her nose to stanch the flow. The last thing she wanted was to get the police involved.

  “I’b not calling the bolice,” she mumbled.