Theodora had technically never graduated from beauty school, but she'd opened the Clip n' Curl with the money her daddy had left her when he died, and she'd paid fifty dollars for a beauty license she'd ordered off of the back of a magazine. No one had ever bothered to question if it was legitimate. Theodora could sell snowsuits to Satan.
Tess had to admit, her mother was a beautiful woman. At forty-seven, she could've passed for at least a decade younger. Glamorous was one of the words that came to mind whenever Tess thought of her mother-the other words weren't as nice, but Theodora was still her mother at the end of the day, so Tess tried not to think them.
Her mother had good qualities too, not to mention that not everyone had the personality to grow up in a house with a woman who'd been raised by the Russian Mafiya. Theodora's free spirit didn't do well under strict conditions. And there were moments during Tess's childhood, when she'd needed the hugs and affection that her grandmother didn't easily give, that she'd been able to turn to Theodora and cry or tell her whatever was on her heart. And then most times they'd sneak out for ice cream. More often than not though, after those bonding mother-daughter moments, life would get too heavy for Theodora and she'd take off for a week or two. But she always came back as if she'd never been away.
Tess had never known her father. He'd come to Last Stop for a meeting at the mayor's office. He'd been some kind of big-city attorney according to Theodora, but he could've just as easily been a trucker passing through. No one would ever know the truth, as Theodora preferred to believe her own truths.
He'd stayed a full week once he'd set his sights on Theodora. Of course, he hadn't known she was only sixteen at the time, as Theodora had developed into a bombshell rather early in life, and she made it a habit to lie about her age. She even had a fake ID she used when she and a couple of her girlfriends would drive across the border to the casinos. Between her curves and the fact that Theodora was nothing if not experienced, even at sixteen, he'd fallen hook, line, and sinker for her seduction.
Theodora always said it was the best week of her life. He'd given her a good-bye tickle and headed back to his real life and family, and that was the end of that. The last tickle had resulted in Tess, and she'd always figured her mother never married because she was waiting for Tess's father to waltz back into town one day and pick up things where they'd left off.
And when Tess heard the happiness in Theodora's voice when she retold the story, it was hard not to wish the best for her. She'd been miserable living at home, as Tess had always heard horror stories about her grandfather. He'd been abusive and enjoyed Stoli vodka more than most Russians, and that was saying a lot. Her grandmother had not only been raised in the Russian Mafiya, she'd also married into it.
He'd been dead long before she was born, which Tess was eternally grateful for. Her grandmother loved her and Theodora in her own way, and she'd been able to show it more after her husband's death.
"Your hair looks lovely," Tess said, knowing that's the only thing Theodora wanted to hear. "Sissy did a great job." And Tess wasn't lying. Her mother's hair was a little shorter than it had been and cut in an asymmetrical bob. It was cute and sassy and fit her mother perfectly.
Theodora put her oversized Chanel bag on the counter and pulled out a couple of cases of hair supplies.
"You're white as a sheet, Tess," she said in response. She looked concerned and came over to put the back of her hand to Tess's forehead. "Cool as a cucumber. You need a man in your life. A live one. Men always put the color back into a woman's cheeks."
Tess thought of the kiss Deacon had given her earlier that morning. It had definitely put color in her cheeks and heated her from the inside out. She was almost afraid to imagine what would have happened if he'd actually put his hands on her.
"I've never defined my worth by having a man around to put color in my cheeks." Tess almost rolled her eyes because she sounded like a prude, even to herself. She wasn't a prude. She just didn't want to be like her mother, looking for the next man she could depend on.
"Your grandmother has been a bad influence," Theodora said, pulling a thermos from her bag and taking a long sip. "After Daddy died she decided she never wanted to look at another man. But it would've been a lot easier on her if she'd kept her sheets a little warm instead of ice cold. All that feminism stuff. God didn't create women so they could take the trash out."
Tess figured it was a great time to disappear inside the cooler and retrieve Delores Schriever. Talking feminism with her mother was like explaining to the pope why prostitution should be legal. It was a task best saved for never.