I don’t feel that way, but perhaps it’s because I’m hearing all this for the first time. I’m just now encountering these places and faces that forever colored Coop’s world. In time, maybe Celia Gray will fade from my thoughts, too. I won’t always feel connected to this beautiful girl I never met.
“I still worry sometimes though,” Coop continues, placing his empty glass on the table. “It’s hard not to be paranoid when an irrational person makes it their intent to ruin your life. A part of me worries she’ll never really be gone. That these long periods of silence are just her gearing up for her next move.”
“It’s been years since she did anything,” I say, trying to comfort him. “I’d say she’s moved on.”
“I’d like to think she’s off getting wasted somewhere, that Celia and I are nothing but distant memories to her now.” He squeezes my hand and looks away. “I guess only time will tell.”
Twenty-One
June 16, 2006
Regina arrived at the dock with the intention of being alone. When she saw Cooper and Celia, she groaned.
“Afternoon, Gina,” Celia said. She always pronounced the nickname with a long I, so that it rhymed with vagina.
Each time Regina heard this, her skin crawled. She wanted to lunge forward and scratch Celia’s pretty face, but she wouldn’t do that to Cooper. He was her older brother and she respected him. They were Douglases, and she respected that. Still, none of this made being around Celia Gray any easier.
“Don’t call her that,” Cooper said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Celia say it, but it was the first time Regina remembered him coming to her defense.
“I’m just kidding around,” Celia said, skidding her foot through the water and splashing Cooper. “We’re all friends here, right?”
Regina didn’t respond. Neither did Cooper. He didn’t even flinch when she splashed him with more water. Regina realized then she’d walked in on something. Not necessarily a fight, but something. She always knew Celia had an expiration date, and she hoped it was approaching.
“What are you doing here?” Cooper asked his sister. He wasn’t being rude, but there was an edge. She thought it had more to do with Celia than her.
“It’s summer,” Regina answered. She shrugged. “I like to read by the dock.”
“You’re so smart, Reggie,” Celia said. “Mama Douglas must be so proud.”
Regina could speak Celia’s language. She knew smart was code for not pretty. And both girls knew Josephine Douglas would prefer a daughter who looked like Celia. Celia, who could flow effortlessly from a string bikini to a debutante gown. She might be white trash, but she looked like a Southern Belle, and Regina hated it.
“I’ll just head back to the house,” Regina said.
“Ridiculous,” Cooper said, swinging his legs away from the water. “Celia was just leaving.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Celia looked straight at him, her stare so hot she was practically steaming. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Regina had definitely walked in on something, but she didn’t know what.
“Fine,” Cooper said, standing. “I’ll leave.”
He brushed past his sister and walked up the hill. Both girls stayed at the dock and watched him go.
Twenty-Two
Madison
This weekend was wonderful. Nothing extraordinary happened, but it felt like Coop and I were back in our groove. We spent time together in Whisper Falls Park, enjoying the ideal temperatures and colorful mountain views. Coop wasn’t preoccupied with work, and I wasn’t bothered by the insecure thoughts that have been plaguing my brain.
On Sunday night, Coop surprised me by announcing he’d arranged for me to join Josephine at the hair salon. Truthfully, I haven’t put much thought into my appearance since leaving Atlanta. At first, I was hesitant, seeing as I don’t know any hairstylists here, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Besides, I’m feeling better about life in Whisper. Perhaps it’s time my outward appearance starts matching my new persona.
Josephine picks me up on Tuesday and we make the short drive to Inner Glow, a nail and hair salon sandwiched between a cash advance place and a consignment shop. From the outside, the place is forgettable; all the effort has been saved for the interior décor. The walls are hot pink, the doors are black and there is a collection of animal print rugs (zebra, cheetah and leopard) in front of each workstation. It’s like my fourteen-year-old self designed the place.
Josephine introduces me to my hairstylist. “This is Monica,” she says. “She’s the owner.”
Monica does a bizarre little skip while keeping her feet in place, like she can’t contain her excitement. I’m surprised to see she’s close to my age. She’s tall with long black hair that reaches the top of her jeans. In some ways, she reminds me of Regina, only it’s clear she puts in more effort.
“Madison,” I say, taking a seat and resting my bag on the small table to my left.
“So, Cooper Douglas. Quite a catch, huh?” Monica says. “I was beside myself when Josephine called saying his fiancée needed an appointment.”
“I’m happy you could work me in on such short notice.”
She flaps the apron over my chest, fastening it behind my shoulders. I feel her cool hand graze my neck as she untucks my hair. “Let me tell you, there’s not a better mother-in-law than Josephine Douglas. The woman is an absolute saint around here.”
“I’ve heard.” Staring in the mirror, I can see Josephine is leaned back, another technician preparing to wash her hair in the sink. “She’s been wonderful. Very generous and supportive.”
“Those two words exactly. She’s the one who gave me the loan to start this place. This will be my fifth year. I always wanted to do hair, but I never thought I’d be a business owner.”
“That’s great,” I say, feeling a twinge of pride. There’s at least a faction of Whisper who sees past the rumors, choosing to focus on the good. Josephine’s given a lot to this town, more than people give her credit for.
“So.” Monica takes a deep breath and pushes back her shoulders. “What are we doing today?”
“I definitely need a cut,” I say, staring back at my own reflection. Back in Atlanta, my hairstylist was Rodrigo. We’d been together so long, I never had to tell him what I needed. We’d built that unspoken rapport where he just knew. Of course, I’ve not seen him in over six months. I canceled our last appointment after I lost my job at the Chronicle. Even now, after months without communication and a move to an entirely different state, it feels like I’m cheating on him.
“What about the color?” she asks, looking at my two-inch roots.
“Lighten it up.” I need to appear more put together. I don’t want anything too drastic because there’ll probably only be time for one more appointment before the wedding. “I’d like something a little softer.”
“Your natural color has come in a lot at the back.” She claws a clump of hair and lets it fall. “I could bring that out a little more. That’s a big look right now, you know. Bronde.”
“Right,” I say, studying my face in the mirror. “Just a warmer shade of blonde, perhaps?”
“You got it,” she says, turning on her heels. “I’ll be right back.”
Perhaps I need to ease back to my natural color. I’d come across more mature, more respectable. In the city, whenever people hit me with a dumb blonde joke, I’d name drop the Chronicle, but I’ve lost that power chip.
Behind me, I see Josephine is still leaned back, her mouth moving a mile a minute. It’s impossible to hear what she’s saying with the cacophony of hair dryers and running faucets and southern accents. Monica returns with a bowl full of color and a packet of foil. She gets to work painting and folding my hair. I close my eyes, trying to ignore her gentle tugging and relax.
“So, how did you and Cooper meet?” she asks, interrupting my meditation. “Atlanta, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, closing my eyes again. “We met at work.”
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“Give me more than that,” she says, and I can see in the mirror that she’s smiling. “Like, how did you meet? What’s your story?”
I rarely ponder those early weeks anymore. I’m too busy dealing with the present, moving from one issue to the next. It’s almost magical looking back, thinking something so mundane could unfold into one of the most meaningful relationships of my life. Perhaps that’s what we all go through. Love at first sight rarely exists; instead, you look back one day and it is suddenly there.
“I was a writer,” I begin. “I’d been working at this paper for several years. My schedule kept me busy, so I didn’t have much time for dating. Coop was hired, started doing entry-level work. Our paths didn’t cross much, but I remember noticing him. He had this confidence about him that caught my eye. This sense of self, but not in a cocky way. I didn’t really get to know him until a few weeks later, after our office Christmas party.
“I think we both had one too many drinks. By the end of the night, we’d been at the bar for hours. We talked about everything. Families, friends, career ambitions. He told me all about life here in Whisper Falls, which amazed me because I’d never lived anywhere outside of the city. He told me about his family’s newspaper, that the only reason he was in Atlanta was to gain some real-world experience before taking over the Gazette. Most guys I’d dated at that point were running the rat race, busy showing each other up. Coop already had his whole life figured out, and that was incredibly attractive.”
“I bet so,” Monica says, painting the back of my hair.
I think I forgot she was there. I was rambling, almost entirely to myself. It’s been so long since I thought of that night. I chuckle when I think about the felt Santa hat sliding off his head and the gross holiday light necklace I wore. Who would have thought such a garish tradition would result in me meeting my future husband? I didn’t. Love was the furthest thing from my mind back then, and perhaps that’s why it was so easy to find.
“How did he pop the question?” Monica asks.
“We went to dinner with friends. Afterward, he invited people back to our place. I thought it was going to be another night of drinking and throwing darts. Next thing I know, he’s down on one knee.” I think back to that moment, my surprise. Beth and Matt and some colleagues from the Chronicle were there. They all looked so happy for us. Said we were an ideal fit.
“That’s sweet he got others involved.”
“My best friend, Beth, helped him sort things out. It was very intimate. Perfect, really.”
“Your ring is gorgeous,” she says. I can feel her towering over me to get a better look.
“Thank you. It’s a Douglas family heirloom.”
“Very fancy,” she sings.
Then there’s that, like I’m only along for the purse strings. My interactions in Whisper Falls to date have made me wary of what others think. I never used to care, but I’m not used to this dynamic of people either kissing your ass or cutting you down. It’s made me cynical, but Monica genuinely seems interested, and from the praises she’s offered Josephine, she must be someone who firmly sides with the Douglases.
“So you grew up with Coop, Roman and Regina, right?” I say, giving her a chance to talk. It would be nice to hear some pleasant memories about Coop’s past for a change.
“We all knew them, of course. Regina and I had a few classes together but she was a bit of a loner. I was a late bloomer myself. Didn’t get close to any of them until later.”
“Yeah?” I ask, thinking there’s more. Maybe Regina actually has a friend.
Monica turns around, scoping out where Josephine might be. “Roman and I had a little fling a few years back. Nothing serious.” She smiles. “He’s a real special guy.”
I can see it. Monica and Roman. They’re both attractive, although Roman is rough around the edges. I can’t tell from Monica’s expression whether they were serious or not. Maybe she doesn’t even know.
“They’re always making comments about Coop being the first one to tie the knot.”
Monica laughs. “Yeah, can’t say I see the other two getting hitched anytime soon.” She smiles as she continues fiddling with the foils. “Roman’s a decent guy. Just not big on commitment.”
“What about you?” I ask, kindly maneuvering the conversation to a different topic. “Are there eligible bachelors in Whisper?”
“Not really.” She laughs again, nervously. “My current boyfriend lives in Knoxville. We see each other on the weekends.”
“Nice.” I can’t imagine why anyone would live here if they didn’t have to. I guess I’ll truly never understand how a place this small can have such a tight hold on its residents.
“Let’s get you under a dryer,” she says. “Then we’ll wash you up.”
I bask in the silence of the heat around my head, then the warm water rinsing over my hair and Monica’s nails digging into my scalp. I’m able to relax for the rest of our session. I flip through a magazine as Monica cuts and dries my hair, but I’ll occasionally smile when I think about Coop and some of our happier memories back in the city.
“We’re all finished,” Monica says. She spins me around to face the mirror.
My natural hue is now the dominant color on my head. There’s only a few ashy blonde streaks, but they’re spread apart, only heightening the contrast. It’s like someone poured a bottle of ranch dressing over my head and let it sit. It’s not natural in the least, or unnatural in a trendy way. I look like a nineties pop star, and I hate it.
My eyes bounce around the salon, looking at the other patrons. I see this is the same look they all have. Like they’re all stuck in a different decade. If only I’d seen this pattern before.
“What do you think?” Monica asks. She must sense my silence isn’t good.
“It’s different,” I say. It’s the nicest I can be. The gleam of pride in her eyes tells me she thinks she’s done a good job. She’s desperate for my approval. I’d readily share my opinion back in Atlanta, where I think people are tough enough to take criticism. Here, the look on Monica’s face—I don’t have it in me to spoil her confidence.
“The colors should blend after a few washes,” she says, stroking the back of my hair. “What do you think of the cut?”
Dear God, the cut is even worse. It’s not been this short since college. My hair stops just above my shoulder and curves in. I look like a Stepford version of myself. Or, perhaps, a Whisper Falls version.
“It should grow out some before the wedding, right?” My voice is cracking as I speak.
“Plenty of time,” she says. Her smile is back, which must mean she thinks I’m happy with what she’s done. “Don’t worry. We’ll schedule some practice sessions before the big day.”
So, it’s already decided, at least for Monica, that she’ll be doing my hair for the wedding. I don’t know if I can trust her to ever touch my hair again. There’s nothing wrong with her technique per se, but the final product is just so… not me.
“You look beautiful,” Josephine says, standing behind my chair. Her hair looks exactly as it did before we arrived, only a few gray strands removed, and her fingernails have been painted a delicate color of pink.
“You think?” I say, trying hard not to let either woman sense my disappointment.
“Very mature,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I told you Inner Glow was the best in town.”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, at this person who seems to be withering away by the day. Yeah, you’re a grown up now, Madison, a little voice says inside. Start acting like one.
Twenty-Three
Madison
On Wednesday morning, I return to Whisper Falls Park and run. I should be buying groceries, but I don’t feel like fighting off crowds. During my short time in Whisper, I’ve learned one thing: Walmart is always the busiest place in town. There’s no good time to go, and there’s no healthy alternative like Whole Foods nearby.
I’m rounding off my fifth
lap when Bailey arrives. She occupies the same spot as last time, pulls out her laptop and starts typing. The only difference from last week’s encounter is she’s using a rock as a paperweight. I still can’t believe she had the gall to write such a suggestive article about Coop. After two laps of trying to forget about her and failing, I walk toward the bench.
She lifts her head, fingers still typing on the keyboard. “Like the new look.”
As though I weren’t irritated enough. I’d forgotten about the hair fiasco. Yesterday, Coop did his best to build my confidence about the whole thing. He swore he thought the style suited me, but that’s just him being optimistic. Staring at Bailey, I can’t decide if her compliment is sincere. “Why would you write something like that about Coop?” I ask.
“I write about all local events in Whisper Falls.” She gently shuts the laptop. “His return is interesting to a lot of people.”
“Coop isn’t a local event.” I say, plainly. “He’s not a celebrity.”
“Around here he is. Everyone knows the Douglas family, and the Celia Gray case is Whisper Falls’ biggest unsolved mystery. People never get tired of reading about it.”
“But it is solved!” I put my hands on my hips. Bailey, with her intellect and wit, assumes she knows everything about the Douglases. After speaking with Coop about Celia’s mother, I see how much pain he’s been carrying as a result of these ugly rumors. Bailey couldn’t possibly understand how her article unlocked a Pandora’s box of unresolved emotions. “She drowned. It’s a closed case.”
“Only because the Douglases hired their own PI to close it.” She laughs, then continues typing. “Not everyone is so convinced the case is solved.”
“The police are. All you’re doing is creating drama.”
“You’re a writer,” she says, holding eye contact. “You know you can’t just accept what’s written on paper. You have to dig deeper. You have to investigate.”
The One Before: A totally gripping suspense thriller with a shocking twist Page 10