Saving Wishes (The Wishes Series)

by GJ Walker-Smith

  Nicole led me to her bedroom. The Lawson house was bigger than ours but it always felt crowded. That probably explained why she spent so much time at mine. I’m sure the fact that Alex lived there had something to do with it too. She’d shared a bedroom with Joanna right up until the wedding, and even after all of her sister’s belongings had gone, the bright pink room still seemed tiny.

  I sat on the low stool at the cluttered dressing table. There were more creams and potions than I’d ever seen in my life –the legacy of having a hairdresser and beautician for a mother. I often wondered how I would have been different had my mother been around while I was growing up. I absentmindedly unscrewed the lid on a pot of cream and sniffed it. The pungent fruity smell that stung my nose snapped me back to reality. Alex had done just fine.

  “Where’s Carol?” I asked, looking past her.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I have to tell you something.” I wanted her mother well out of earshot.

  “Can you talk and fold?” she asked, pointing to a basket of clothes on the bed. She didn’t seem worried. Maybe she knew what I was about to say.

  “I’ve been thinking about going with Adam when he leaves. I really want to but he’s sensible. He talked me out of it.” The words came in a rush as if I had to say it before I lost my nerve. Nicole glanced at me before turning her attention to the shirt she was folding. “Say something, please.” I snatched a denim skirt from the basket.

  “Were you planning to bail on me, Charli? Ditch me at the last minute?”

  I looked away, pretending to concentrate on the skirt. “It sounds awful when you put it like that. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I mumbled.

  “What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. Do you know?”

  I wanted her to make sense of it for me. I wanted her to make me understand why I had been prepared to abandon my dreams and destroy those of my best friend in the process. I wanted to know why hearing Adam tell me he couldn’t be without me made me hopeful that he would be with me always.

  The skirt was impossible to fold. I rolled it up, much as I’d done with the wet blanket, and threw it back in the basket.

  “I don’t know much about him, Charli, other than the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous.” She grinned at me and I couldn’t help smiling back. “You tell me why he’s so freaking special that you’d give up all your dreams to be with him.”

  I sat back on the stool, needing the support, while I recounted every event of the last few weeks. My voice sounded embarrassingly wistful as I filled her in on the details.

  Nicole was really the only person who could understand how I felt about him. She’d watched seventeen years’ worth of my insecurities unravel in a few short weeks – only to have new ones surface. I told her that I needed to be with him. My voice took on a tone of desperation as I punched out the words. Such a trite affirmation would never have crossed my lips a few weeks ago, but now it was a statement that held meaning. I’d never been surer of anything in my life, but nothing I said made it sound strong enough, true enough...or gut-wrenchingly painful enough. I could feel my face twisting with emotions I wasn’t sure how to explain.

  The shirt Nicole was folding was forgotten. She stared at me strangely, like she was trying to make sense of my words or at the very least come to terms with the fact that I had just said them. I was the girl who thought boyfriends were for bored girls with no ambition. I was never the girl who believed a boy like Adam existed, let alone dared to hope I’d find him.

  “Wow.” Her voice was understandably incredulous.

  I slumped forward, burying my head in my hands. Something was very wrong with me. “I know, you think I’m an idiot.”

  Nicole sat down on the edge of her bed, sighing heavily. “You’re not an idiot. You love him. I totally get that.”

  My head snapped up to look at her. “Is that what this is?” I asked, speaking as if I’d just been diagnosed with some foreign tropical disease.

  She burst into giggles and I didn’t know why. “You do make things hard for yourself don’t you? You’re such a control freak, Charli. You can’t control this. You just have to go with it.”

  “How am I making things hard for myself?” I asked, continuing my run of stupidity.

  “Well, you could have picked a guy who lives a little closer than a million miles away. And the fact that his cousin is a witch doesn’t help either,” she explained. I cringed when she referred to Gabrielle as a witch. I’d called her far worse in the past, but it seemed wrong now. “So what did Alex say when you told him?” she asked, choosing another random item of clothing to fold.

  “I didn’t,” I confessed. “I’m not going to New York so it makes no difference.”

  “But you will end up with Adam eventually. That means you’re not planning to come back here. He should know that,” she said disapprovingly.

  “I know,” I agreed wearily.

  She tossed the shirt back in the basket. I endured an uncomfortable minute of silence before she finally spoke.

  “Poor Alex. He’ll be heartbroken. He’s cared for you for so long and – ”

  “He’s easily distracted these days.” I cut her off mid-sentence and my tone was unfairly severe.

  No one was more aware of the sacrifices Alex had made than me. I found it infuriating to be reminded of it and I know he despised being thought of as the martyr just as much as I hated being thought of as the damaged little orphan.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  The frown that swept her face made me wonder if I should explain or not. I knew she’d want to know. The whole town would want to know about Alex and Gabrielle.

  “He’s kind of seeing someone,” I confessed, downplaying it by epic proportions.

  “Who?” Her voice sounded urgent – like knowing was a matter of life and death – and I understood at that moment that it was. To her, it was more than a crush. It was her reason for getting out of bed in the morning. I just wish I’d made the connection a few sentences earlier. It was too late to get out of telling her now.

  I looked at the floor and spoke barely louder than a whisper. “Gabrielle Décarie.”

  She sucked in a quick, sharp breath. “Oh.”

  “I know. Weird, huh? I’m still trying to get my head around it. Things are pretty serious. It’s been going on a long time, over a year.” It wasn’t really an explanation. It seemed more like damage control.

  “Gabrielle,” she mumbled, stunned.

  “I’m so sorry,” I told her.

  Nicole stood, fluffing up her newly brunette hair with her hands – a mannerism I’d seen a lot of lately. “Why are you apologising?”

  “I guess...I guess I’ve always known that you like him.”

  My eyes flitted between her and the floor. I felt like I’d just called her out on her deepest, darkest secret.

  A weak smile crossed her face. “It was never going to go anywhere, Charli. I’m not stupid. He’s thirty-four.”

  “I know. He’s old.” I grinned, trying to raise a more genuine smile from her.

  “Alex is one of the good guys. It’s easy to like him. He deserves someone nice, not someone like Gabrielle.” She said her name as if it was a swear word.

  I wasn’t sure if I could be the one to enlighten her about the woman formally known as the Parisienne witch. She was not a witch and Alex did deserve her.

  Her face suddenly changed. The pained look disappeared and she smiled half-heartedly. “How could they have kept it secret for so long? Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think they’ll ever tell anyone?”

  “Gabrielle is leaving it up to Alex. I think it’s his decision to keep quiet.”

  “Charli, that’s why she’s stayed here so long.” She spoke with certainty. It was as if all of the mystery that had shrouded Gabrielle had disappeared once Alex was added to the equation.

  “I know.
She’s ready to go back to France and that’s why I’m hoping that when I leave town, he will too. I’m the reason he’s dragging his feet.”

  She smiled but it wasn’t convincing. I smiled back, but I doubt I looked confident either.

  The morning disappeared quickly, just like old times. It seemed months since Nicole and I had spent any time together and I realised just how much I had missed her.

  Knowing I was coming over that morning, her mother had assigned her a mountain of chores to get through, believing that idle hands did the devil’s work – and that I was the devil. I helped her load washing, tidy her room and sweep the back patio while we chatted. I’d always maintained that nothing ever happened in Pipers Cove, but hiding out with Adam had pushed me so far out of the loop that hearing even the most mundane gossip was interesting.

  “So Jasmine has decided that Adam is not her type,” explained Nicole.

  “Poor Adam. He’ll be so disappointed,” I replied.

  “Imagine her reaction when she finds out that Alex is off the market too.”

  “At least it takes the heat off me.”

  “Has she left you alone lately?”

  “Sort of.” I grimaced. “She’s plotting something. She told me I had no idea what’s coming. Do you know what that means?”

  She frowned. “No clue.”

  We stood to attention when Carol appeared at the back door a few minutes later, eying us suspiciously.

  “I forgot to bring the towels home from the salon last night,” she said, her eyes darting between us. “Perhaps you girls might like to fetch them for me.”

  Her snippy tone didn’t bother me. It beat doing chores and hanging around the house. We were out the door and in my car before she could add any conditions to her request.

  17. White Knight

  The main street of Pipers Cove resembled a ghost town on weekends. Rolling tumbleweed wouldn’t have looked out of place. None of the shops were open except Norm’s hardware store, which traded until three.

  The row of angled parking bays lining the street was empty with the exception of the infamous blue Festiva, crookedly parked right outside the salon.

  “What is she doing here?” asked Nicole bitterly.

  I had no clue why the Beautifuls’ car was parked there but had no doubt we were about to find out. Nicole was never one to hold back. She stormed the building with the gusto of a police raid, pushing open the glass door with her entire body. The candy pink vertical blinds wobbled in every direction as the gush of outside air caught them.

  The Beautifuls seemed to wobble a bit too. Lisa – who had been lounging along the pink velvet couch in the waiting area – sat bolt upright, knocking the cotton wool balls that were stuffed between her newly pedicured toes flying in every direction. Jasmine was at the basin, rinsing Lily’s hair when we walked in. They were now both covered in water. The only one who didn’t jump out of her skin was Lily. Poor, oblivious Lily. A bomb could have gone off and she would have continued reading her magazine.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” snapped Jasmine, reaching for a towel to dry herself off.

  “I could ask you the same question,” spat Nicole, angrily.

  Jasmine gave up trying to dry the front of her tight fitting red shirt and turned her attention back to her sister. She rubbed Lily’s hair so brutally that her voice shook as she spoke. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

  “It looks like you’re treating your posse to free products.”

  The chief Beautiful chuckled darkly, infuriating Nicole. I watched from the doorway as she marched over to Jasmine and ripped the towel from her grip. Lily squealed loudly and grabbed the back of her head. I wondered if Nicole had managed to tear out her over-bleached hair in the process.

  Nicole spelled it out for them in no uncertain terms by speaking slowly and loudly. “You’re stealing.”

  Jasmine’s shameless snicker proved something we already knew. They were morally bankrupt. “It’s not stealing. It’s market research,” she said, raking through Lily’s hair with a wide-toothed comb.

  Lisa stood up, waddling toward Nicole with the grace of a drunken duck, trying to not disturb the remaining cotton wool between her toes.

  “We come in every few Saturdays when the new stock comes in, to try it out,” she explained. She had the intellect of the world’s dumbest criminal and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself laughing out loud at her stupid admission.

  Jasmine shushed Lisa, directing a poisonous glare square at her but it was too late. Nicole pieced it all together instantly. One of Jasmine’s duties as Carol’s apprentice was ordering new stock. Judging by the way Lily was studying the product catalogue; they were ordering whatever they fancied and intercepting it without Carol ever knowing.

  “You wait until my mother finds out,” warned Nicole, unfortunately sounding juvenile.

  Jasmine didn’t look alarmed. If anything she looked even more demonic than usual as she stepped toward Nicole, waving the plastic comb at her. “Are you planning to dob on us, Nicole? Because that would be a huge mistake.”

  “You’re a thief!”

  Jasmine sauntered back to Lily’s chair. “What would happen if I got in first?” she mused. ”I could call her and tell her everything.”

  I didn’t buy it for a second. Her tone was too cunning for someone entering a plea bargain.

  “You’d tell her what you’ve done?” asked Nicole, understandably sceptical.

  “Oh, Carol,” she mocked, holding the comb to her ear as a makeshift phone. “I came to the salon to tidy up a little and Charli and Nicole are here. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Charli’s been filling her pockets with as much stock as she can carry.”

  “She’d never believe you,” I scoffed, speaking for the first time since we’d walked in.

  Jasmine sucked in a long breath, exhaling loudly as if talking had become arduous. “But what if she did? Your name has been bounced around this salon a million times…and never in a nice way. It’s not going to be much of a stretch to convince her that you’re not only slutty, but a thief too. Everyone already thinks you’re damaged goods, Charli.” She shook her head, tutting. “Everybody talks about it. You’re just an attention seeker…such a disappointment to Alex. Of course Carol will believe you’re a thief.”

  Her speech burned like acid but I refused to appear affected. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Will you, Charli? Really? She’ll press charges. You know she will,” she goaded. “A criminal conviction will spell the end for you. Your travel plans might be cut short. Most countries don’t take kindly to criminals seeking entry visas.”

  “You are such an evil bitch,” said Nicole glumly.

  “It’s true,” said Lily, breaking in. “Our cousin, Sarah, couldn’t get into Canada because she had a drink driving conviction.”

  Nicole groaned and slapped her own forehead. “Sarah couldn’t get into Canada because she spelled Canada wrong on her visa application.”

  Lisa’s giggle was extinguished by another lethal glare from Jasmine.

  “It, doesn’t matter anyway, Nic,” I said, sighing heavily for effect. “Jasmine’s right.”

  “What are you talking about?” she hissed.

  “I can’t risk it. I know what Carol thinks of me.” It took great effort to sound so defeated.

  Lisa guffawed, obviously impressed by the outcome of Jasmine’s attack on me. I glanced at Nicole, silently trying to reassure her that I hadn’t lost my mind.

  The Beautifuls claimed the win, going about their business as if we were no longer in the room. I walked toward the back room on the pretence of collecting the soiled towels. Nicole followed. “Here, take this one too,” demanded Jasmine, throwing a sodden pink towel at me as I passed. I let it fall, refusing to demean myself by picking it up.

  As soon as we were through the narrow doorway, Nicole grabbed my arm “What’s gotten into you?”

  I nudged her aside and began rummaging t
hrough the lotions, potions and powders lining the shelves of the back wall. I had a plan – and the inspiration had come from a most unlikely source.

  Floss Davis was fanatical about living organically and chemical free. I knew Carol had done her hair for years, and thanks to Gabrielle Décarie, I had a fair idea how she managed to make her hair such a bright shade of red without chemically dyeing it. Gabrielle was an experimental artist. She loved trying out new mediums and painted on everything from canvas to ceramic. Her latest project was staining leather with henna. I’d watched her working on it one day, carefully and slowly ensuring none of the dye touched her bare hands. When I asked her how long it would take for henna to wear off skin, she answered by painting a tiny heart on the inside of my wrist, which was still bright orange nearly a week later.

  “I found it,” I said, thrilled that my hunch had paid off. I spun around to show her the container of henna powder. “Find me some hand lotion or something.”

  Nicole looked confused but she did as I asked, handing me a tub of moisturiser. I decanted the gritty brown powder into the white cream, mixing it with a spoon I found next to the sink. With a bit of luck, Jasmine would be stirring her coffee with the same spoon on Monday morning.

  “What is that stuff?” asked Nicole.

  I grinned, already tasting victory. “Tate bait,” I whispered. I put my finger to my lips before casually strolling back into the shop. Nicole followed behind, struggling to carry the bundle of pink towels she’d collected.

  Everything in the salon was pink. It was pink overload. If there had been a cluster of seizure patients in town, they would surely trace the source back to the bright pink fittings in Carol Lawson’s salon.

  “Are you sure your mum won’t find out?” I asked, hoping Nicole would be clued up enough to follow my lead.

  “Err, yeah,” she muttered, unconvincingly.

  “I’ve always wanted to try this,” I said, holding the pot of lotion out in front of me, giving Jasmine ample opportunity to snatch it from me as I walked past – which she did. She didn’t notice me glance at Nicole and give her a wink. She was studying the label.