A Love of Her Own

by Bettye Griffin

  Vanessa Brown, who owned the hair salon next to Beginnings, was there with her husband, Brian. Although the women had just seen each other that afternoon, they exchanged greetings by air-kissing both sides of their cheeks, so as not to muss their makeup.

  “Is this something?” Vanessa squealed. “I’m waiting for the photographer from House Beautiful to show up any minute with his camera.”

  “It’s lovely, but truthfully, I’m afraid to sit down. My butt might leave an indentation in the sofa.”

  They giggled like schoolchildren, then Vanessa caught her breath. “Hey I heard you caught a mugger this afternoon, a little kid, of all things. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t my purse he grabbed; it was some older woman who hightailed it out of there the minute she got her bag back, leaving me stuck with Billy the Kid.” Ava shook her head at the memory of the woman’s quick exit from the scene. “Ness, I couldn’t believe it. He was all of nine years old at the most.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I let him go. It wasn’t like I could press any charges or anything, since it wasn’t my purse he grabbed.”

  Vanessa shook her head. “Damn punks are ruining the neighborhood. You know, my shop could do just as well as the ones by the mall or in Nile Beach if the police would be a more visible presence on Main Street.” Nile Beach, Palmdale’s much smaller neighbor to the east where Ava had grown up, was a historically African-American town that served as a popular vacation site, hosting numerous large reunions and other events each year and serving as the center for spring break gatherings of black students along the East Coast.

  “There are cops all over Main Street, Ness.”

  “Yeah, just passing through in their patrol cars or speeding with their sirens on if they’re in a hurry to go get lunch. Big deal. What we need is good, old-fashioned foot patrol. Bring back the beat cop. A few whacks with a nightstick might make these punks think twice before they try to rip someone off.”

  Ava squeezed her friend’s arm. “I hope so, Ness. I’ve got just as much as stake in it as you do.” It was true that downtown Palmdale, a historic neighborhood in the midst of a restoration, still had its problems with crime, but at least it had given Ava, Vanessa, and other entrepreneurs opportunities to open for business with loans from lenders eager to invest in the area. Ava knew she didn’t stand a chance of securing funds to open a shop in the mall, which was located in the newer side of town, not far from Catherine’s home, and where the relative security of an upper middle-class area was reflected in the store rents. “But you’ve already got a reputation as the best hairstylist in town, Ness. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

  Vanessa shrugged wordlessly. Both women’s heads turned at the sound of approaching voices. Catherine appeared from the side hall with a group of five or six, whom she had apparently just given a tour. One of them was Hilton.

  “Lord have mercy, who is that?” Vanessa hissed.

  “A friend of Catherine’s.”

  “Wow, is he ever good-looking. If I wasn’t married…”

  Ava’s eyes twinkled. “I understand he’s available for a price.”

  “He’s…say what?”

  She chuckled at her friend’s obvious confusion. “He apparently rents himself out to do heavy work and other things couch potato husbands don’t like to do. He also builds furniture.”

  “Is he here alone?”

  “Looks like it.”

  Vanessa nudged Ava’s ribs, the force of the jab making the gesture as subtle as an unmarked police car. “Well, you ought to get him to build you something, honey!”

  Ava winced from the sharp pain, which fortunately was only fleeting. Vanessa was actually a little on the plump side, but her elbows were all bone. “Actually, I already talked to him about it,” she said when the moment passed. “But it’ll be strictly business. Catherine has already told me in rather frank terms that it’s hands off.”

  Vanessa pressed her chin to her chest and flashed Ava a dubious look. “Catherine! Well, that’s surprising. He doesn’t look like her type. No,” she added, “let me amend that. With that face and build he’s anybody’s type. But he’s a blue-collar man. Since when does Catherine go for that?”

  Ava shrugged. “Maybe she’s realized that all the deep-pocketed executive types are taken.”

  *****

  Ava didn’t stay much longer after that. She had to work the next day, and slow days at the salon were more tiresome than busy ones; probably because they seemed to drag out forever.

  As she drove she noticed that her car, a sporty royal blue Hyundai Genesis she’d bought four years ago, seemed sluggish. She instantly knew she would have to put it in the shop; something was clearly wrong. She’d do it in the morning. Her mechanic would probably be glad to get the business during what was undoubtedly a slow time of year for them as well.

  As she approached downtown, the car had slowed down to a crawl. Still, she was sure she’d be able to get home. It wasn’t like she had to drive ten miles.

  Then she saw the smoke rising from under the hood.

  Chapter 2

  She hastily pulled over, uttering a curse in the dark silence of the car. She automatically reached for her purse, and from the moment her fingers closed around the small clutch she’d switched to, a recall of an earlier, unfortunate action set in. The purse was only large enough for her wallet, keys, and a lipstick. Normally she removed some cash, a credit card, and her license and zipped them inside a side pocket to make room for her cell phone, but she’d been in a hurry. She’d meant to bring her cell and leave it in the car so she’d at least have it with her, and she now remembered she’d forgotten to do that.

  Great. Here it was, after ten o’clock on a Friday night, and she’d broken down on a dark residential street.

  She put on her blinkers, hoping to catch a police cruiser. Even if a taxi went by, she’d hail it and just go home. But after ten minutes with only a few stray private vehicles going by, she knew her only choice would be to get out and walk. Main Street wasn’t far. Her friend Kendall Lucas and Kendall’s husband, Spencer Barnes, had both been restaurateurs before they met. They had combined their professional interests with their personal relationship and now owned Robinson’s, a neighborhood bar and grill at Main and Georgia Streets. Although Kendall and Spencer would probably be at their other establishment, a supper club in Nile Beach, the site of many a holiday celebration for various groups, she was bound to see enough familiar faces at the bar to feel safe. Once she got there she could easily get someone to drop her off at home.

  The problem was getting there. It was awfully dark outside. Maybe she should wait a little longer for a police car or a cab to go past…

  This is silly, she thought after another fifteen minutes. The only thing happening was that it was getting later and later. She’d simply have to make a run for it. It was only…she calculated on her fingers…two blocks over and then two blocks up. Four blocks was a long way, especially in heels. Hell, if she was going to do all that, she might as well try to run all the way home; it wasn’t much further.

  “Damn it!” she muttered, as she reluctantly got out of the car. Inadvertently she shivered—it was dark, foreboding, and downright spooky. The street lights gave off little illumination, probably because they were covered with the accumulation of years of street dust. Ava made a mental note to speak to Catherine about getting the council to arrange to have the street lamp surfaces cleaned—a lone match would give off more light than these dim bulbs.

  She tensed when she noticed that a truck that had just driven by was now backing up. She reached for her keys to unlock the door to return to the relative safety of the car, but in her nervousness she fumbled and dropped them. For heaven’s sake, this was just like all those scenes in the movies she always scoffed at where women being pursued always did something silly, like slipping and twisting an ankle; and here she was doing the same dumb thing. Because of her clumsiness, if someone in the t
ruck—it was actually an SUV rather than a pickup—wanted to do her harm, she didn’t have a prayer of getting away.

  She used precious seconds trying to locate her keys, which had fallen on the street alongside the curb. After bending to pick them up, she raised her face defiantly to look at the driver of the vehicle, which was now parallel to hers.

  Hilton White sat behind the wheel. “Hi there. You having car trouble?”

  Ava sighed with relief. “Oh, am I glad to see you.”

  He grinned at her as he got out of the car, and once more she was struck by how exceedingly good-looking he was. Her hand automatically went to smooth her hair. Vanessa had recently cut her previously shoulder-grazing naturally auburn tresses, which had always been on the thin side, giving her a stylish pixie look. She hoped it had held up.

  “I saw your flashers. What happened?” he asked.

  “It kind of lost its juice, and then there was smoke all over the place. The smoke cleared up, but it still smells kind of funny. I was just about to make a run for it.”

  Hilton frowned. He walked to the front of the car and knelt to the ground. “It’s hard to see, but there don’t seem to be any oil puddles, so at least it doesn’t look like you blew your engine,” he said as he rose to his feet. “Maybe it’s the transmission. But they generally don’t go out just like that without some kind of warning.”

  “Well, it has been a little sluggish lately. I put some of that STP stuff in it, but it really didn’t do anything.” Ava suddenly felt embarrassed. “I guess I should have brought it to the shop before it got to this point.”

  “If it’s the transmission, it probably won’t make a difference in terms of further damage,” he said. “It’s either pay now or pay later.”

  “I suppose. Listen, can you give me a lift home? I don’t live far from here. The car will be all right here until morning.”

  “Sure; come on.”

  The truck sat considerably higher off the ground than her low-slung sports car, and her heels didn’t make getting in any easier. Hilton stood behind her and lifted her so her feet rested on the running board, keeping firm hands around her waist as she awkwardly climbed in. His hands felt large and unwavering as they supported her weight, and Ava sensed their massive strength through the thin knit shawl she wore. It took her breath away, and when he released her the heady feeling remained.

  As she settled into the passenger seat, Ava wondered what it was about these SUVs that so many men were crazy about. They were a pain to get in and out of. But then again, she reasoned, men didn’t wear high heels.

  As Hilton walked around to the driver’s side she realized he didn’t even know her name. He climbed in, and she opened her mouth to introduce herself when he asked, “You really didn’t think I was going to leave you stranded, did you, Ava?”

  “Not really, but I don’t like to take people’s good nature for gran—hey, how’d you know my name?”

  He laughed, a vibrant sound that filled the truck. “Catherine called you by your name when she took me to meet her guests. I remember thinking it was a pretty name for a pretty woman.”

  “Oh…thank you.” He’s flirting with me. She liked it. It was always nice to know men thought she was attractive. And it was harmless. Nothing would come of it…nothing.

  Ava directed him to her home, a refurbished Queen Anne built in Nineteen Fourteen, freshly painted a cheery yellow with blue trim. The sight of her house continued to give her a warm, tingly feeling, even a year after she’d moved in. It would always be special to her, and who knew? She might just live in it for the rest of her life.

  “Nice place. I’ve got one over on Davis Street myself. Tan with red accents.”

  “That’s only a few blocks from here. We’re practically neighbors.”

  “This might be a good time for you to show me what work you’d like to have done,” he suggested.

  Ava hedged. Perhaps he should come back in the daytime. After all, the only thing she knew about Hilton White was that he was a self-employed handyman who had done some work for Catherine.

  She immediately felt ashamed of her thought. Would she be so reluctant if he were a corporate executive? She had always felt that people tended to put too much stock in people’s professions, and she was dismayed to find herself doing the same thing. Good heavens, could it be she was starting to think like her mother? What Hilton did for a living should not influence her reluctance. The big concern here was his being a virtual stranger to her.

  She decided it would be all right. Catherine never allowed anyone in her home without checking them out thoroughly. Besides, Khufu was inside the house, and she would stay near the alarm control panel in case she had to turn it on. Hilton wouldn’t have to venture past the sun porch just right inside the front door. “There’s no time like the present,” she said in agreement.

  “Nice-looking house,” Hilton commented as she unlocked the door. “These old places are a hundred times more solid than the newer ones they’re putting up over on the west side.”

  Palmdale was promoting itself as a friendly community where people knew their neighbors, and builders—at least before the market collapsed—had been putting up homes that were both relatively close together and with old-fashioned gingerbread facades rather than the sleeker ranch homes on generous lots that dominated much of the surrounding area.

  “They just don’t build ‘em like this anymore.” Ava opened the door and quickly disarmed the alarm. Khufu came running to greet her and sniff at Hilton suspiciously. “Come in, Hilton. What I want to show you is right here in the sun porch.”

  “Hi there, fella,” he said to Khufu, rubbing his back and making an instant friend.

  Hilton surveyed the room, which was lined with windows along the front and side and was barely six feet deep. “This doesn’t really seem like a room for working,” he remarked.

  “I like to relax while I work. I’m visualizing a small television on the shelf by the door, and I want a nice, comfy chair on wheels with a high back and arms to sit in. I’d like to sit in the corner, so it won’t interfere with the chairs already here.” She nodded toward the two cushioned wicker chairs with heart-shaped backs that flanked a glass-topped wicker table, the only furnishings on the porch. “And I want shelf space for my printer and all my bridal magazines. I plan weddings as well as outfit the brides and attendants, and I do most of that part of my work from home.”

  “I guess it can work, but won’t it be a bit cramped?”

  Ava shrugged. “I would call it ‘cozy’ rather than cramped.” His dubious expression was not lost on her. “I was thinking about the built-in shelves on the lower part of this wall,” she said, indicating the window-lined wall facing the front yard, “since I want to face the front rather than have my back to it. I can glide back and forth in an office chair with wheels, provided I don’t put on fifty pounds.”

  She waited for his response, but instead of answering he swept a glance over her figure, most of which was concealed by the loose-fitting sweater dress. It only lasted for a few seconds, but the sudden narrowing of his gaze and the slight smile on his lips made Ava regret her last comment. It also made her breath catch in the middle of her throat…and made the small room suddenly feel even smaller.

  “You’ve got a point there,” Hilton replied, moving back to business so smoothly that she wondered if she’d only imagined his eyes on her body. “Why don’t I come back next week and get some measurements so I can give you a price?”

  “That’s fine. I’m usually home by six.”

  “Is seven all right?”

  They agreed on Monday. “It’ll only take five minutes, if that long,” Hilton said.

  “That’s fine. Hilton, I can’t thank you enough for bringing me home.”

  “I’m just glad I came along when I did. It’s not safe for a woman to walk alone at night, especially in this area. That reminds me, will you be all right with the car?”

  Ava nodded. “I’ll call my mech
anic in the morning and have him pick it up. I can easily walk to work from here.”

  Hilton smiled at her, a question burning in his brain. She was an attractive woman, with her reddish-brown complexion and hair a darker shade of the same color. She had great legs, too, and the rest of her was probably just as appealing, but it was lost in the loose-fitting dress she wore. She hadn’t mentioned a husband, and of course she’d been alone at the party tonight. It was hard to imagine someone as pretty as she not being involved with someone. But there was simply no tactful way to ask, so his curiosity would simply have to wait.

  But not for long, he thought as he turned to leave. He planned on making it a point to find out.

  Ava closed the door behind him after they said their goodnights. Standing in the shadows, she watched as he effortlessly climbed into the truck. She stood unmoving until the truck parked in front of her house was just a memory, and with a smile she turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed.

  Chapter 3

  Ava rose early Saturday morning. Armed with a pooper scooper, she leashed Khufu and took him for a brisk walk around the block. When she returned home she contacted the garage and made arrangements for her car to be picked up. They promised to send someone over to Beginnings to pick up the keys before noon.

  After a light breakfast of a toasted bagel and orange juice, eaten while she got the latest news from CNN, she dressed and prepared to walk the seven blocks to work.

  There was a definite chill in the air—the local weather segment on the Weather Channel gave the temperature as forty-five degrees. Ava dressed in layers of a tiny checkered blazer over a mock turtleneck, navy slacks and comfortable moccasins, knowing that walking always made her body temperature rise and also that by lunchtime the mercury would have risen to the sixties.

  She unlocked the security trellis in front of her shop and pushed it to the side. Beginnings had quite a selection of wedding gowns and dresses for bridal attendants and flower girls as well. She also carried shoes, hose, garters, headpieces, faux pearls and other accessories, and prom dresses too. Hers was the most complete bridal salon in the county, and that was how far future brides came in search of the perfect gown.