She passed the turnoff to Willett Fisheries without pausing, though her mind swam with memories, some light but mostly dark. She kept pedaling and eventually passed the Land of Milk and Honey. Though these days it was a legendary roadhouse boasting impressive names carved into its heart pine stage floor, she liked to remember it as it used to be—nothing more than a cavern-like garage with an icebox full of Coca-Cola bottles on the front porch and an honesty jar next to it, full of dimes from the pockets of neighborhood kids. An old icebox still sat on the front porch, though now it served as a container for a couple of withered ferns.
She kept riding until she came to the break in the trees that led to the swamp. Rose could still remember the hope and terror that filled her limbs when Jim raised that rock and hurled it toward the alligator, the sound the gator made as it gurgled back into the water, Jim’s arms around her shoulders, their gangly frames knocking together with fierce devotion.
Before she had time to second-guess herself, she turned back the way she came, flying past the Land, pausing only as she rounded the corner down Willett Road.
The family business was at the end of the road and Jim’s house sat just behind it, built up on stilts to protect it from summer storms. In the yard a wooden swing hung from a jasmine-covered arbor, and the mailbox out front still bore the faded markings of yellow flowers, painted by Stella, Rose’s once best friend.
Her gaze slid to the screened porch and she saw him. Her brother was sitting with his legs stretched out in front, a coffee mug on the table next to him. She was too far away to see the scar on his arm caused by an oyster shell when he was twelve. Or the slight bend in his nose, broken in a fight at school when he’d defended Rose from a bully who called her weird. But she knew these details about him, as well as she knew the years that swelled between them now. Was it too late to span the gap?
As if he could hear the questions in her mind, Jim turned his head to where she sat on her bike in the road, one foot on the pedal, one on the ground. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then he raised his hand. Not exactly a wave, but a gesture. An acknowledgment. She raised hers in return, and they remained like that for seconds that stretched all the way back to a time before everything fell apart.
He dropped his hand when she did but kept his eyes on her as she resettled herself on her bike. It was a start. She smiled before turning around and pedaling home.
This time when Rose stopped in front of Coach’s cottage, he was on the porch, feet bare, water hose in hand. He looked up in surprise, silent as she climbed off her bike and strode right up his driveway. Heedless of her breeze-swept hair and damp forehead, she slowed in front of him.
He stared, water pouring from the hose. After several seconds, he dropped the hose in the bushes and reached down to turn off the spigot. When he faced her in the quiet, she spoke.
“Have you changed your mind about wanting to have dinner with me?”
“No.”
“Well, I have. My answer is yes.”
He didn’t grin like a loon as she thought he would. Instead, he exhaled. “I don’t know what changed your mind, but I’m glad it did.”
“Well.” She nodded once, then turned back for her bike. She stopped when he called her name, her heart not racing but thumping steady and sure.
“Rose? I’ll pick you up at six.”
* * *
The salon was empty when Rose arrived, which made perfect sense considering it was not yet eight o’clock. But Rose couldn’t wait. She only had to knock once before Lily appeared at the bottom of the stairs in loose linen pants and an emerald-green top. She crossed the hardwood floor, confusion written on her face.
“Rose?” she asked when she opened the door. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Rose was pleased to see Lily was already dressed for the day, face scrubbed, eyes bright. She needed Lily to be up to the task. “I need a favor.”
Five minutes later Rose was leaning back, her head propped against the gentle dip in the sink’s rounded edge. Lily’s hands were in her sudsy hair, and her every nerve ending tingled with anxiety and anticipation.
Once Lily rinsed for the final time and squeezed the water from Rose’s long hair, she wrapped a towel around her head and led her to the swivel chair in front of the large mirror. Rose settled herself in the chair and smoothed the smock over her legs.
Lily slowly unwound the towel and began combing out Rose’s tangles. Rose was thankful for Lily’s silence. Other than a concerned, “Are you sure?” Lily hadn’t spoken, as if she felt the magnitude of the undertaking as much as Rose did, understood it was more than a haircut.
Instead of looking at herself in the mirror, which was always vaguely unsettling, Rose watched Lily’s hands as they worked. Her hands were quick and certain yet fluid, graceful. She pulled the comb through the length of Rose’s hair, examined the ends, deliberated over her part, then put down the comb and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed.
Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Rose looked in the mirror for the first time. Her hair clung to her scalp and fell halfway down her back. The added moisture made it feel heavy, a burden she couldn’t wait to shed. At seeing her own rawness, her vulnerability, tears brimmed in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but one fell, sliding down her cheek and landing on the smock.
Lily moved to stand behind the chair and Rose locked eyes with her in the mirror.
“I want it gone.”
Lily nodded. “I know what to do.”
As Lily snipped and Rose’s hair fell, layers of years-long grief and regret slipped away. As her hair grew lighter, looser, something in her face changed. She looked less . . . drained. Less parched.
Lily continued to work, her brow knitted together, concentrating on her subject. Rose’s hair now just skimmed her shoulders, and Lily stood in front of Rose, trimming the hair around her face. Lily stood so close, Rose could smell the lotion on her skin.
“Lily?”
“Mmm?” Lily’s hands didn’t slow.
“This is . . .” Rose pulled her lips in, then tried again. “I don’t . . .” She couldn’t even speak, but instead of making her feel silly, Lily gave the barest hint of a smile.
A knock sounded at the door, and “Hellooooo” came Shirley Ferrill’s voice. “The girls and I were just on our way to the café, but we saw your light on and thought— Oh. Rose.”
In the mirror’s reflection, Rose saw Kitty and Tiny climbing the porch steps behind Shirley, almost bumping into her when they realized she’d stopped.
“Shirley, I thought you were going to invite her to— Rose Carrigan!” Kitty almost shouted. “You’re getting a haircut?”
Rose gave her head a small but sharp shake as a familiar pang of insecurity flooded her heart and her cheeks. “Lily, could you please ask them to come back later?” she whispered through clenched teeth.
Lily leaned in close. “Maybe you should let them in,” she whispered back.
Rose chewed on her lip and glanced back at the mirror where she could see the three women and their handbags crowded into the doorway. Kitty still looked incredulous, Shirley was pensive—probably wondering how she could fit this event into her next newsletter—but Tiny was smiling like the sun piercing through dark clouds. From between Kitty’s feet came a small, frustrated yip.
“Hush, Prissy,” Kitty said. “This is important.”
“Okay.” Rose gathered herself. “Let them all in.”
It was another twenty minutes before Rose’s hair was finished. Lily had turned the chair around so the end result would be a surprise. Finally she smoothed the last hair into place and whisked the smock away, then turned the chair back toward the mirror.
Rose gasped. Her hair—a lighter gray now that the darker ends had been cut off—fell to her shoulders in kicky waves. A long fringe framed her face and softened the edges. She shook her head a few times, savoring the cool brush of hair against her neck.
Behind her, the wo
men stared, aghast at the change, and Lily stood with her hands on her hips. “Well?”
“I think . . .” Rose covered her lips with her fingers. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
Lily shook her head, then stepped forward and set her warm hand on Rose’s shoulder. “It’s not me, Rose. You did this. You made the decision.” She dropped her voice low. “What you do next is under your control. Do you remember telling me that?”
Rose nodded. She couldn’t forget the image of Lily sitting alone on the side of her bed, afraid to get up and face her new beginning. So different from the woman standing next to her now.
“It’s just beautiful,” Tiny chirped. “Rose, you’re as pretty as your name.”
Rose tried to hold it back, but her smile got the best of her.
“Yes, well, this female bonding is nice and all,” Kitty said, tugging on Prissy’s leash, “but my head is reminding me I’m in serious need of coffee. Ladies, it’s time for the café.”
They gathered their things, but only Kitty moved toward the door. Tiny and Shirley hung back, their faces swinging between Kitty and Rose.
Kitty glared at them, then turned to Lily and Rose. “You two care to join us?”
“Thanks,” Lily said. “Maybe next time?”
Kitty nodded and gave Prissy’s rhinestone leash a final tug before walking out, Shirley and Tiny following, offering smiles and promises of another breakfast date as they left.
With the salon quiet, Rose exhaled.
Lily grabbed the broom and corralled Rose’s excess hair into the dustpan. “One step at a time, right?”
“One step at a time,” Rose replied. “Though at my age, a leap every now and then probably wouldn’t be the worst idea.”
Twenty-Two
“Lily?”
She was just coming in the back door from taking out the trash when she heard Coach’s deep voice carry through her cottage.
“Good morning,” she said, closing the door behind her. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you in here.”
He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Even I have to admit it’s getting a little too long. I’m not really going for any particular look, but ragged definitely isn’t it.”
Lily smiled and pulled a smock off the hook on the wall. “I don’t think you look ragged, but I can shape it up pretty easily. I won’t take off too much.”
He allowed her to hook the smock around his neck, then sat in front of the sink where she directed him. “I trust you completely, my dear.”
She washed his hair and squeezed the water out with a towel, then led him to one of the chairs in front of the mirror.
“I’m on display here, aren’t I?” He glanced around the shop and out the front window that looked over the street and café across the way. “Anyone could come in and see what’s going on.”
“Are you nervous, Mr. Beaumont?” Lily asked with a smile.
“Aw, no. Of course not. It’s just been a while since I’ve . . . well, since I’ve gotten all gussied up.”
Lily pumped the chair a couple times and ran a comb through his hair. “I’ll just take a little off here and here.” She indicated where she intended to cut, and he nodded. “You know,” she said as she made her first snip, “Rose was in here this morning.”
“Was she now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did she seem . . . Well, what was her mood? Good or bad?”
“You know Rose. Sometimes it’s tough to tell. But I think it was good.”
“Good, good. And those are some true words, young lady. Rose Carrigan is a tough woman to figure out.” He sighed and fidgeted under the smock. “But I’m banking on her not being tough all the way through.”
Lily smiled. “I think your odds are good.”
A few minutes later she brushed hair off his shoulders and whisked the smock away. “What do you think?”
He turned his head this way and that, then lifted his chin. “Well, I’m still old.” He grinned. “But I think you’ve made an old man look pretty good. Thank you.”
“I think you look quite handsome. And you’re welcome. Come back anytime.”
“Oh, you won’t see me in here for a while.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Goes against my grain to get primped and polished too often.”
At the sound of hurried footsteps up the front steps of the cottage, Coach and Lily turned to the door. Kitty burst in juggling a cell phone, an enormous handbag, Prissy’s leash, and an umbrella.
“Waiting for rain, Kitty?” Coach asked, stepping to the side so she could get all the way in the door.
Kitty set her phone and bag down on a side table and gave Prissy’s leash a tug when he lifted his tiny leg over Coach’s shoe. “The girl on Channel 11 said there was a possibility, and I figured if I’m getting my hair done, might as well not take a chance on a summer storm ruining it.”
She crossed the room, sat in front of the sink, and exhaled mightily.
“Kitty, are you okay?” Lily asked. “Do you need some water?”
“I’m just going to . . .” Coach signaled he was leaving. Lily waved as he pointed to Kitty and mouthed, “Good luck.”
“I’ll take something fizzy if you have it, hon,” Kitty replied, her eyes closed and her head tipped back against the lip of the sink.
Lily pulled a can out of the fridge and handed it to Kitty. Kitty popped the top open and took a long sip. Finally she exhaled and peered up at Lily. “Sorry for the histrionics. It’s been a long day.”
Lily set the can on the counter and turned the water on in the sink. After checking to make sure it wasn’t too hot, she rinsed Kitty’s hair and began washing it. The firm set to Kitty’s mouth told her not to ask any questions. And as it turned out, she didn’t have to. As she rinsed Kitty’s conditioner and wrapped her hair in a towel, Kitty sighed. “My daughter and I aren’t speaking.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well. She made the choice to shut me out of her life, so it’s really out of my hands, isn’t it?”
Lily combed Kitty’s hair and began dividing it into small sections. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since Tuesday.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Kitty arched an eyebrow. “We usually talk every day. Four days is a long time.”
“Yes, I can see how it would feel that way. Did something happen to—”
“It started thirty years ago when she married Hank. He’s always been a little too highbrow for my taste. Always the fancy clothes. The expensive cars. The gadgets. Anything to communicate to his friends that he is a well-heeled, successful man. Clearly a narcissist. And now all his money-grubbing tendencies have pulled my daughter down too.”
“So it’s money troubles?”
“Money troubles?” Kitty snorted. “The trouble is, they don’t have any. But Rebecca—that’s my daughter—she’s too stubborn to accept the help they so obviously need. I mean, what else are they going to do? Wait for it to pop into their bank account?”
Wrapping each separate section of hair around a curler and pinning it in place, Lily stayed silent.
“Bottom line is, I have money. I have plenty of money, definitely enough to get them out of this hole. But she doesn’t want it! That’s what started this whole thing four days ago. She told me about the debt, then proceeded to tell me she didn’t need anything, that she was just telling me about it. But does she actually think I can hear about it and not do anything? What kind of mother would I be if all I did was listen?”
She exhaled forcefully and closed her eyes. Lily pinned another curler in place.
“A good one,” Kitty said quietly a few moments later. “A good mother would have done nothing but listen.” She gripped the arms of the chair. “Giving them a chunk of money isn’t going to fix anything. It would only cover up the problem. And she knows that because she’s smart. Here I am doing the very thing I would have counseled someone else not to do.” She sighed. “And he’s n
ot a narcissist. A big spender, for sure, but not a narcissist.”
Kitty rubbed her hands over her face, then sat up straighter in her chair. “I can give advice all day long, but when it comes to my own life, I seem to be clueless.”
“I think that’s just part of being human, Kitty. We know exactly what someone else should do with her life, but when it comes to our own, we just . . . wing it.”
“Amen, sister.” With all of Kitty’s curls pinned in place, Lily led her to the dryer and settled the hood over her head. As she adjusted the dial, Kitty peered up at her. “I don’t usually talk about personal things. It’s not comfortable for me. And anyway, most people think the psychiatrist could never have problems of her own. Therefore no one asks, and I usually just let them think all is well. But it feels good to get it out. Thank you.”
Lily stepped back. “You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”
“Sure you did. You asked and you listened.” Kitty smiled and settled back under the dryer. “As soon as I walked in here, I knew it was a safe place to let it all out.”
* * *
During a lull in the afternoon’s appointments, Lily threw on her bathing suit and a cover-up and walked to the pool. Ever since the evening she saw Cricket Thompson swimming laps, gliding through the water with strong yet effortless strokes, Lily felt the urge to do the same. To test her strength in the water.
The first time she tried it—the evening of her first day at work—she’d been surprised by how quickly she became winded. One full lap—down and back—left her gasping for air. At the end of the second lap, she lifted her head to see Cricket on the pool deck, kicking off her flip-flops.
“A few pointers?”
Lily nodded, and Cricket hopped in the water, took Lily’s arms, and guided them into smooth arcs. She coached Lily on breathing techniques and cautioned her to just flutter her feet, not kick.
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