Hair Calamities and Hot Cash.

by Gail Pallotta

  Eve got up, but stayed on her side of the room until he headed toward the door.

  He turned to her with the urge to kiss her filling his heart, but she stood back and waved. “Good night.”

  Would she ever let down her guard? He’d have to make sure she did. Where should he start to straighten out her product mess?

  10

  I shut the front door and pressed my back hard against the wood paneling. The grandfather clock ticking sounded loud in the quiet house and reminded me I was alone. Tears welled up as I trudged down the hall. I tried to push my sorrow back, hurried to the bedroom, and fell on top of the comforter.

  How could sending Philip away without a kiss leave me so empty? I rubbed my hand on the other side of the bed and gazed at the place where Jordan once lay. Only a kid when I started dating him, I’d never gone out with anyone else until Philip. What did I know of people from New York? Logic told me I’d probably ruined this relationship asking to only be Philip’s friend. How could I not ask with worry over losing someone else I cared for gnawing at me?

  Other people like Ellie lost spouses and moved on. Of course her two-timing first husband used her. Made my blood boil to think about it, but she’d moved forward and found happiness with Smitty. Why couldn’t I do that? It’d help if Philip lived here.

  I forced myself off the bed and showered quickly. Weak from the upset I’d caused myself I donned my nightgown, crawled under the covers, and hoped sleep would cure me. I threw the comforter off. Was I foolish to push Philip away? Why did God send someone who lived in New York? The clock on the nightstand stared me in the face—three-thirty in the morning. Finally, exhaustion overtook me and I slept.

  ~*~

  The alarm buzzing jarred me at eight o’clock. Sunlight danced on the light green leaves and pink blossoms on the mimosa tree in front of the window. Jordan loved the spring flowers. He had been such a gentle man. Philip seemed mild-mannered too. Would keeping a distance from Philip lessen the pain when he ran off to New York, or was my heart already bound to him?

  I sat up and wiggled my feet into the white satin bedroom shoes Joyce Westmoreland had given me last Christmas. Oh, poor Joyce’s hair. Nausea hit my stomach, but I swallowed it and trod to the kitchen.

  Starting breakfast seemed such a chore, and could I even eat? Would Pete and Charlie show up? I needed strength for the day. I placed a piece of bread in the toaster and fresh grounds and water in the coffee maker. In no time it seemed my morning libation appeared in the glass pot, and the toast popped up. I sat at the pine table and stared at my breakfast.

  Some people read tea leaves. Could anyone read coffee grounds? What would these say about Philip and me? Ellie thought the two of us had a chance at love, and I could be happy anywhere with the right person. The man in the restaurant probably was right. I needed to give Philip a chance.

  What was I thinking? I’d told him not to call. It was done. I nibbled the food and sipped my drink then dressed in a pair of black pants and a white blouse and headed outside.

  The sun kissed my arms as I trekked from the house to the shop. A fruity hairspray mixed with the odor of pungent permanent solution hit me in the face when I entered the building. Whew. I raised the new window then turned on the fan.

  Seeing bare drywall and white putty specs on the floor probably should have encouraged me because it meant repairs were underway. Instead it triggered thoughts of what a disaster my shop and my life were. I went to the back, returned with the mop, and cleaned up the mess beside the window.

  Mary Lou Moore and her mother, Loraine Peters, entered at ten-thirty.

  As a kid Mary Lou rested on the floor in their den while Mrs. Peters sat on the sofa and brushed Mary Lou’s long, dark hair. They stayed there for an hour or more, Mrs. Peters brushing and Mary Lou soaking up her mother’s love. Mr. Peters, on the other hand, was abusive, often leaving welts and wounds on Mary Lou.

  “Good morning, how nice to see both of you.”

  Mary Lou peered at the window. “I’m sorry about the accident.”

  “Thank you. Pete and Charlie will sand the putty today, but they’ll stay out of our way. Who wants to go first?”

  Mary Lou gestured toward her mom. “She will. Her best friend, Mrs. Green, is coming for lunch.”

  Mrs. Peters removed her red head scarf and touched her gray hair. “I washed it, so all you need to do is roll it, if you don’t mind. The get together wasn’t planned when I made the appointment.” She gazed at me with searching blue eyes as though she feared I might be angry with her.

  How silly. I couldn’t be peeved at sweet Mrs. Peters over something so trivial. Anyway, it probably was for the best considering my conditioner situation.

  “That’s perfectly fine.” I patted the middle salon chair. “Have a seat. I’ll have you out in no time.”

  I picked up the medium-sized rollers and wound one into her thin hair.

  Mary Lou sat back as Pete and Charlie came in. “Mornin’ Eve. Mary Lou, Mrs. Peters. We’ll try not to disturb you,” Pete said.

  Charlie held up a big square of sandpaper and headed toward the drywall. “Just ignore us.”

  The two of them marched to the wall beside the window. Scratching permeated the room. Pete and Charlie picked up the pace to loud fast scraping, and my nerves vibrated. I rolled up Mrs. Peters’ hair as quickly as possible, but she stared at me with annoyed blue eyes as I put her under the dryer.

  The sanding grew more intense and wrinkles creased Mary Lou’s brow.

  “How’s little Carrie doing?” I asked hoping to take her mind off the racket.

  “She’s getting such an attitude. That child will be spoiled rotten between Mama brushing her hair and James tickling her every night when he comes home.”

  Mary Lou had married James Moore, a lanky guy with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, ten years ago. If he’d ever raised his voice, let alone struck anyone, I’d never heard tell of it. Just the kind of man Mary Lou needed. “Sounds like Carrie has lots of admirers.” Ahh, to hear of the joy a child could bring to others, but never know it for myself. A pain pricked my heart. “I’ll get your mom out now.”

  “Poor thing. Her hair’s so thin it doesn’t take it any time to dry,” Mary Lou said.

  I always curled and combed Mrs. Peters’ hair in a way that made it appear to have more volume. “She’ll look pretty.” I glanced over my shoulder and winked at Mary Lou as I lifted the dryer off Mrs. Peters’ head. Mrs. Peters padded to the salon chair, and I put the finishing touches on her “’do.” Then she and Mary Lou left.

  I never thought I’d see the day I wanted to flee my shop, but I welcomed the drive to Smitty’s. I hurried to the car, let the peace and quiet soak into my pores on the way there, and entered the drugstore.

  I wanted to work through the repairs, but that irritating noise unraveled my nerves. I couldn’t force it on my customers. I’d have to cancel the rest of my appointments for today, but I was glad that Mary Lou and Mrs. Peters had come. Mrs. Peters looked nice for her visit with Mrs. Green. To think about poor Mrs. Peters living with that monster all those years. She’d stayed with him until he died for a reason only she knew.

  My wonderful Jordan was taken from me so soon. He was on his way to see his mother. He’d kissed me good-bye that morning and said, “I’ll return.” Now Philip told me he was going away, but he would come to visit. Why couldn’t I believe he’d come back and wrap my heart around the joy he brought? Well, it was too late now.

  I grabbed the conditioner from aisle three, checked out, and returned to the shop. Pete and Charlie had disappeared. They must’ve gone to lunch.

  Having to resort to store brands because of the unpredictable Just Right supplies humiliated me. If I could I’d buy the most expensive stock for my customers. This solution to the product problem was neither permanent nor the one I preferred, but it temporarily restored my sense of control over my shop. With authority I set my purchase on the shelf behind the shampoo bowl and threw the
bottle from Durbin in the trash.

  Squares of sandpaper lay on the floor in the midst of putty dust. A small piece of typing paper stuck out from under Pete’s toolbox. I picked it up. Maybe you’d rather be DIE-ed red. My stomach knotted.

  This message sounded childlike, just as Philip had pointed out when he found the first two, but at the same time, this was sinister. Were the notes from the thieves who robbed the businesses in Merchantville? Did they plan to break into the beauty shop? I shivered inside as I laid the message on the desk. Even if Philip were right, I had to make the shop my top priority. My clients were my livelihood and my friends. I sat down and rescheduled the rest of today’s customers with nausea swimming in my stomach over all the business I continued to lose.

  Mary Lou entered, Pete and Charlie on her heels, the door slamming behind them.

  She dropped down on the edge of the shampoo chair. “It means so much to Mama to get together with Charlene. You know, Charlene has that chronic fatigue syndrome. That’s why they don’t plan things ahead. She calls Mama when she feels up to coming.”

  “I understand.”

  I put a burgundy cape around Mary Lou’s shoulders, clipped it shut in front, and leaned her back, giving a good shampoo and rinse. My hand jerked as I snatched up the conditioner. Was I cheating using a store brand? I had no choice if I wanted to give Mary Lou the fine hairdo she deserved. That’s why I took things into my own hands and went to the drugstore. Not only that, another flood in the shop was more than I could stand, and Philip wasn’t here to clean it up. A sinking sensation pulsed through my veins. How could he have made so much difference in my life in such a short time?

  There I was thinking about him again. Four years of being alone, and I had to fall for some guy from New York. He might as well have been from the moon. The liquid dripped into my hand when I tilted the bottle.

  I rubbed it into Mary Lou’s hair. My heart accelerated as I squirted water on her locks. Silly. It worked fine. Why wouldn’t it? I wrapped a towel around Mary Lou’s head with my cheeks burning. Life was difficult enough without a bottle of conditioner making a nervous wreck out of a person. The next time Durbin called, he would have to straighten this out. I was a Just Right customer, even if I lived in the mountains miles from the city.

  Mary Lou made a path across the gray laminate floor to the first salon chair and plunked down.

  The sandpaper scratching in the background seemed louder near the styling station. I bristled. “What type hairdo would you like today?”

  “I loved the way you fixed it last time, back over my ears with bangs brushed to the left. Just do that.” Mary Lou didn’t let on that the sanding bothered her, but how could it not?

  I parted off her hair, held a section at an angle, and placed the razor at the end using short, choppy motions. Then I repeated the action.

  “Who’s the handsome guy you’ve been seeing?”

  I quit cutting her hair as an ache filled my chest. Would people ever stop asking about Philip? I might as well have rented a billboard with our names and photos.

  Mary Lou must have sensed my dismay. She slipped her small, chubby hand out from under the cape and gestured. “I don’t mean to be nosey. I’m happy for you. You’re young and attractive. It’s time you found somebody.”

  I hadn’t found somebody. That was why I regarded her question as an intrusion instead of the caring inquiry she probably meant it to be. I resumed the trim. “He’s just passing through town. It’s nothing serious.”

  “Oh, I thought...”

  The door opened, and Philip traipsed in. “Good morning, Eve, ma’am.” He glanced at the men, but they had their backs to us and appeared to be entrenched in their work.

  I was speechless.

  Mary Lou was all smiles. “Oh, hi. I’m Mary Lou Moore. My husband, James, and I run the laundry and dry cleaners.” She extended her hand to him, and he shook it.

  “Nice to meet you, Mary Lou.”

  “Likewise. I saw you in Bob’s Diner with Eve, but I’m glad to say hello to you in person.”

  No end to it. Could I disappear into thin air? Not only had Philip created more gossip by coming to the shop, but seeing him unleashed my frustration over our relationship, whether it was justified or not. I stopped cutting Mary Lou’s hair and put my fist on my hip while still holding the razor. “What can I do for you?” I tried not to sound irritated, but I failed.

  Mary Lou bit her bottom lip then glanced at him and me as though she thought we were having a lover’s spat. Were we?

  He shifted his weight. “I ah, ah, wondered if Mr. Jacobsen had called yet.”

  “No, he hasn’t. Looks like you’re stuck in Triville a little while longer.”

  Mary Lou sucked in a deep breath.

  Philip meandered over and stood beside me. “I feel privileged to be here.”

  Mary Lou exhaled.

  I lifted the razor to cut her hair, but couldn’t reach her head for Philip’s arm. I glared at him and tightened my jaw.

  He moved over, and I snipped. “Privileged, huh?”

  “Yes, how about having a bite of lunch or dinner with me?”

  Last night and this morning I was nearly sick because I thought I’d never hear from Philip again. Now he’d asked me out and my heart clenched tight with fear of caring more for him if I accepted. I’d remind him of our recent agreement and say I’d go as long as he kept a distance from me, but I hardly wanted to mention our personal business in front of Mary Lou.

  She tapped Philip’s arm. “I hear Bob’s special tonight is Eve’s favorite, pot roast. She wouldn’t want to miss that.” She shifted in her seat and gave me a harsh look as though she thought it would be unkind of me to decline. “Would you?”

  Philip’s eyebrows shot up. “Bob’s Diner, it is. What time?”

  “Pff. All right, dinner sounds fine. I can leave by seven.”

  “I’ll pick you up then.” Philip strolled out, shutting the door quietly behind him, as if noise mattered with all the sanding.

  There seemed to be no end to my customers’ fascination with Philip. Did they see a future I didn’t? Whether they did or not, Philip apparently knew how to win their hearts.

  Maybe he cared about me and that’s why he went to the trouble to arrange a date, or he could have been bored. Triville wasn’t the most exciting town in the world. I ran the electric razor up Mary Lou’s neck, blew her hair dry, and twirled it with the round brush to create soft curls around her face. “You look cute.”

  She stood. “Thank you. I love this.” She handed me a cash payment then left.

  No more clients today, but the books had to be balanced. I sat at the desk a couple feet from Pete and Charlie, the sandpaper scratching in the background as I pulled the ledger out of the middle drawer. The numbers looked pretty good. I could cover my bills. Durbin’s supplies cost fifteen dollars more than what I’d paid Les Shepherd, the salesman he replaced. It was ironic that prices kept going up with people’s earnings going down, at least it seemed that way for me. I thanked the Lord I had enough to live. Then I closed the desk drawer and stood. “See you later, Pete, Charlie.”

  “We’re almost finished with the sanding. Want to pick out a paint color?” Pete asked.

  “Oh, sure.” The sooner the better.

  Pete left and returned with small sample squares stuck on a large piece of paper and handed it to me. “We’ll try to do this at night, so you can work during the day. You can turn on the air conditioner and raise the window to get rid of the fresh paint “aroma.” Pete raised his blond eyebrows when he said the word aroma.

  I chuckled. “Right. Well, I’ll stick with a neutral color. The vanilla ice cream looks nice.”

  “You’re quick. Lots of people take several days to decide.” Pete rubbed his forehead. “I know you want it finished as soon as possible, but I recommend covering all the walls, because the new paint won’t match the old. For that reason the insurance should pick up the tab for the entire job.”
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  “I’ll ask my agent to check to make sure, but yes, that sounds good.”

  “I’ll give you a buzz when we have the paint. You can let us in or leave the key under the rock.”

  Pete returned to his sanding, and I headed for the house, a headache starting at my temples as I went through the doorway. I’d already missed so many appointments. When I’d styled Joyce’s hair in spite of the disaster, I’d created a wretched mess. Today, I’d managed to give Mary Lou and Mrs. Peters’ nice hairdos, but had to cancel everyone else. As soon as Pete and Charlie started painting either my customers would have to sit in the odor or I’d have to close. Would this ever end?

  English sparrows flitted from the stoop as I crossed the yard and opened the door to the house. The quiet shouted at me, and loneliness echoed in the room. It would be good to go out.

  I turned to the right, headed down the hall straight to the bedroom closet, and put my hand on a black dress with beads around the scooped neck. I pulled it back as though the garment burned it. No. Jordan gave me that outfit. It had been one of his favorites. Jordan lived in my mind, my heart, and every fiber, bone, and nerve in my body. How could I ever let go of him?

  11

  Following the outline of my lips I stood at the vanity and applied pink lipstick with a hint of violet.

  The doorbell rang.

  I set down the cosmetic, switched off the bathroom light, and proceeded to the foyer trying to grasp happiness for the rest of today. If only yesterday and tomorrow would stop getting in the way. I opened the door. “Hi.”

  Philip’s mouth turned up on the corners as he escorted me to the car and let me in the passenger’s seat. “You look stunning.”

  My heart danced. “Thank you.”

  He got in and sat silent until we approached the hill leading to Bob’s Diner. “We’ll see what she’s made of.”

  The vehicle jerked and nearly stopped. Philip gave it more gas, and it chugged along then cut out again. He took a deep breath, restarted the engine, and floor-boarded it. The last surge took us to the parking lot where the road leveled off and the view from the top of the mountain took away a person’s breath. He parked in a space near the door then sat back in his seat as though he needed to collect himself. “So, we’re having pot roast tonight?”