by Stacy Adams
“I picked up on that too,” Indigo said. “She kept pointing to the picture on the bedroom wall that shows her standing in front of the salon. I told her we’re going to take care of everything, but she was really agitated. After I stop by the newspaper, I’ll come down to see how everything’s flowing so I can reassure her.”
“Great,” Rachelle said. “But I know that’s not why you called.” Indigo took a deep breath. “I noticed your silence last night.” Rachelle didn’t respond.
“You still there?” Indigo asked.
“I’m here, Indigo. We should talk in person, okay? Brian’s a good guy, but I want what’s best for you. That’s all. You know I’ve traveled a similar path.”
Indigo felt her defenses rise. “Yes, you have, Rachelle. But I’m not you. This is a different time and a different set of circumstances.”
Rachelle fell silent again.
“Let me go,” Indigo said. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ll see you later.”
She hung up before Rachelle could say goodbye. Minutes before the call, she had been wavering herself, but confronting Rachelle’s unspoken judgment of her decision ticked her off.
She didn’t need or want to be preached to; she’d lived long enough and had seen enough to know not to rush into anything. She wasn’t going to let Rachelle’s misgivings influence her decision. Just because Rachelle’s chance at a fairy-tale romance had been pockmarked by poor choices didn’t mean she would face the same problems.
Indigo was thankful that Rachelle and Gabe were happy now. They both had put the past, and the relationships they had experienced then, behind them.
Rachelle’s college sweetheart, Troy, and his new wife had left Jubilant for Chicago with their blended family two years ago, just as Gabe and Rachelle had begun praying about relocating here. The timing couldn’t have been better. Indigo was convinced that God had orchestrated the shuffling game to snuff out any sparks that routine encounters with an old flame might ignite. She had watched God knit Rachelle and Gabe closer together than ever, and she was trusting that he’d do the same for her. In the meantime, she wanted to feel good about her looming wedding.
She jumped off the bed that had once belonged to her older brother, Reuben, before he left for college and moved to Seattle to work for Amazon.com. The twin mattress was firmer than the queen-sized one on her bed; still, she knew that hadn’t been the cause of her sleepless night.
She dismissed the worry, attempting to cloak her fears, and strolled across the hall to the full-sized bathroom. When she leaned toward the mirror, a fuzzy spot filled her view in one eye. Indigo yanked a sheet from the paper towel holder on the countertop of the sink and wiped the glass, but the blurriness remained.
She closed her eyes, tilted her head sideways, then opened them to look at the mirror from another angle. Before she could react to the fact that the cloudy spot still remained, she saw her giggling sister behind her.
“Why are you making faces in the mirror? Brian’s not trying to marry a lunatic,” Yasmin said and smirked. “He really should just wait until I’m older.”
Indigo rolled her eyes and stepped away from the mirror. “You need to be thinking about college choices right about now, young lady,” she said and raised her arm to pat her sister’s head. At five eight, Yasmin could already look her in the eyes. “College and career choices. I’m heading off to the newspaper, but I’ll be back in a few hours to get you so we can go over to the salon.”
She returned to her room to pick out something to wear and tried not to fret about the fuzziness that was now blocking her side vision. She didn’t feel a foreign object in her eye, but the cloudy spot was annoying. It had come and gone before, but this morning, it seemed persistent. She wondered for the first time whether she might need glasses.
Maybe she’d ask Rachelle about it when she saw her, if they were speaking to each other by then.
8
Indigo stepped outside the front door and paused to pick up the newspaper. Before she could bend over, she was grabbed by the waist. The scream that filled her throat couldn’t break free.
“Good morning, Mrs. Harper. How does that sound to you?”
Brian eased her fright before she could execute the karate move that had earned her a black belt in eighth grade.
“Boy! Where did you come from? Why are you lurking outside my parents’ house?”
He laughed, pulled her closer, and planted a kiss on her lips. “You made me a very happy man last night, baby, that’s all. I’m just jazzed.”
Indigo peered into his eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
He laughed again. “Maybe. I should have brought over the champagne so we could celebrate together. One glass wouldn’t hurt you.”
Indigo’s heart constricted. “You know how I feel about that, Brian,” she said. “Mama’s drinking still haunts me.”
Her mother had been sober for seven years, but she wasn’t going to let anything, including a celebratory drink, send her down a path that could alter the course of her life.
She changed the subject. “I’m going over to the newspaper to process the photos I shot yesterday. Want to have breakfast with me first?”
Brian took her to Shoney’s, one of the few morning meal options in Jubilant. They chatted about nothing in particular over eggs, bacon, and pancakes.
But his joy was contagious. As Brian rambled on about how their life together would unfold, Indigo pictured herself in a wedding gown, being introduced to their friends and family as Indigo Irene Harper. She saw herself standing next to him as he was commissioned as a naval officer. She visualized him wearing a Navy pilot uniform and climbing into the plane he’d fly on a regular basis, before eventually returning to Houston to don an astronaut uniform. The vision he laid out for both of them seemed wonderful and right.
She held his hands and admired the way her engagement ring sparkled on her ring finger while he mused out loud.
“I’ll be at the top of my game, but so will you,” he said. “I see you at the commissioning ceremony with your camera, taking photos of all of the officers and being paid by the Navy for your work. You’re with me in Houston as one of the official NASA photographers, recording images for the history books and media. We can achieve our goals and still be together.”
Indigo’s smile weakened. The only problem with this picture was that her dream was being reshaped to fit into his.
Was this the sacrifice required for love? Was this why Rachelle had sounded so cautious when they talked earlier this morning?
If she was going to float the idea of waiting, now was probably the best time.
“Brian, I’ve been thinking about the decision we made last night, and I’m having second thoughts about rushing our wedding and giving up grad school. Maybe we could hold off on the wedding? Or if we do get married now, why couldn’t we be apart until I finish my master’s? This is a great program, and it’s hard to think about giving it up completely.”
He sat back in the chair and stared at her. “I thought we agreed, Indigo. Now what’s the problem?”
Without giving her a chance to reply, he motioned for the waitress to refill his coffee.
“Let’s see where they send me after OCS, okay?” Brian asked. “Maybe you can enroll in an art institute near where we’ll be based. Besides, you already have your bachelor’s degree. It’s not like you can’t do well without the master’s.”
She wanted to ask him to slow down, to give her time to process it all and make sure she was comfortable moving forward. At the moment, however, that annoying blurriness had returned to her left eye, and she was concerned that it might blossom into a headache.
Indigo leaned forward and motioned for Brian to do the same, so she could kiss him across the table. The taste of his coffee lingered on her lips.
“I love you, baby,” she said softly. “Let’s just enjoy today, okay?”
9
The expansive parking lot adjacent to Hair Pizzazz’s squat red building was filled
with cars and SUVs when Indigo and Yasmin arrived in the late afternoon. Indigo lucked out on a spot near the door, not far from Rachelle’s black Beamer.
They walked toward the salon entrance and paused before going inside.
“It feels weird to be here when she’s not,” Yasmin said.
“Yeah, it does,” Indigo said. “Hopefully it won’t be for long.”
Aunt Melba was at their parents’ home, napping and watching TV, instead of delivering the wit and wisdom her customers craved, along with the hairstyles she customized for them. Tears had filled her eyes when they told her they were leaving to check on things at her place.
“Thank . . . you.” The effort it took for Melba to utter two words left her spent and tugged at Indigo’s heart.
“For what, Auntie? We’re family. What you love, we love,” Indigo said. “Hair Pizzazz is going to keep thriving until you’re ready to take over again. You just focus on getting well.”
The two sisters stood here now, but neither made a move to enter.
Indigo took the initiative. “Come on. Rachelle’s inside. It will be okay.”
She pulled open the mahogany door and stepped back so Yasmin could enter first. The fourteen-year-old gingerly walked in and waited for Indigo to follow.
“What are you afraid of, sis?” Indigo asked. “It’s the same place.”
“I’m thinking about what happened the last time we were here,” Yasmin whispered. “I keep thinking about Aunt Melba lying on the floor.”
Indigo squeezed her hand. “Think about the fact that God saved her.”
They entered the foyer and found Rachelle sitting at the reception desk, handling a call. “Yes, you can come in today and see Eboni or Carlotta. Both of them are filling in for Melba until she returns, and both of them do great work. I’ve let them take care of my hair over the past few weeks and I’ve been pleased.”
She jotted a note on her pad and typed something in the file she had open on the salon’s desktop computer. “Okay—I’ve put you down to see Eboni at the same time Melba had you on the books. I’ll be here and will look forward to seeing you then.”
Rachelle hung up and smiled at her cousins.
“Hey, ladies,” she said. “It has been busy this morning! That was the mayor’s wife. She’s used to only Melba touching her hair, but she’s willing to give Eboni a try, if Eboni will take her in the private room in the back to wash and style her. I tell you, I didn’t realize how much coddling and ego massaging this business requires!”
The three of them laughed.
Indigo raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you don’t get these kinds of requests at your optometry office? It’s all customer service, you know.”
Rachelle raised her palms upward and widened her eyes. “You are absolutely right, and I guess since I don’t do the scheduling in my office, I’ve had no clue about what all is involved. Looks like I need to give my receptionist, Melinda, a raise in another six months.”
Rachelle laughed again and rose from the seat behind the reception desk. She came around and hugged Yasmin. “You aren’t hanging out with Taryn today?”
“Yes, ma’am, we’re getting together,” she said. “Cousin Gabe said he’ll take us to the mall later, so we can meet some friends at the movies. But Mama made me come here with Indigo first, so I could help clean up or do whatever needs to be done.”
Rachelle smiled at Yasmin, who was a thinner, fairer-complexioned version of Indigo.
“Fortunately for you, Aunt Melba uses a cleaning service, so this place is spic and span. What I do need help with is rescheduling the clients who decided not to come in today but want to make appointments with Eboni or Carlotta over the next two weeks.
“I have a list of women who need to be called back. I’m also trying to get a handle on what bills need to be taken care of. I have the key to the business files, and I want to make sure everything has been paid, including Carmen’s wages, and that I collect the two stylists’ rental fees on time.”
Rachelle lowered her voice and leaned toward her cousins. “They missed paying the first month they were here because Melba had the stroke, but I need to collect that fee and this month’s as well, without ruffling their feathers, especially since they’re taking on Melba’s clients. Any advice?”
Indigo shrugged. “I don’t know about that one. Ask Mama and Daddy and see what they say. Aunt Melba might have some thoughts about it too.”
“I don’t want to upset her by telling her that we let a month lapse,” Rachelle said. “This place is her baby. She doesn’t need to start fretting that we aren’t doing things right.”
Indigo smirked. “Believe me, she already is. If she could have climbed into my car, she’d be here now, telling you what to do. She’s trying not to worry, but I can tell that she wants to be in the loop. And truth be told, she should be. I can’t wait until she’s a little stronger.”
Indigo walked around the desk and plopped in the cushioned chair Rachelle had vacated. The phone rang and she answered on the second ring.
“Hair Pizzazz, how may I help you? Just a moment.”
She put the caller on hold and looked toward Rachelle.
“Aunt Melba never did braids. This person wants to know if someone can braid her hair into a single ponytail.”
Rachelle shrugged. “I’ll run back there and check with Eboni and Carlotta. She just wants a single braid?”
Indigo nodded.
Yasmin walked over. “I can do that and earn some money for the mall. When does she want to come in?”
“This is a reputable place of business, Yas,” Indigo said.
Yasmin put a hand on her bony hip and struck a pose with her lanky frame. “Like I said, I can help if she wants to come in. I can braid and do a few other things. Aunt Melba knows I’m into fashion, so she taught me how to create several hairstyles to complement whatever look I’m aiming to achieve. Plus, I braid the neighborhood kids’ hair all the time. You know that.”
Indigo paused before returning to the caller.
“Ma’am, we don’t regularly offer braiding, but we have a teenager here this afternoon who’s skilled at it, and she’d be willing to assist you. If you’d prefer a professional, we fully understand. If you still want to come in, Yasmin will be here for a couple of hours.”
Indigo grabbed a pen and scribbled some information on a notepad. “Okay, we’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
When a striking café au lait young woman strolled into the foyer a short while later, Indigo, Rachelle, and Yasmin fell silent. Her thin black hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders and clearly didn’t require the perms that were typically applied in African American salons.
“Hi. May we help you?” Indigo asked, remembering that people occasionally walked in without appointments to inquire about the salon’s services.
Her thoughts turned to the conversation with Ms. Harrow, about how she had once stumbled into Hair Pizzazz by mistake, thinking it serviced people with her hair type. She wondered how this woman, who was clearly of mixed heritage, would respond.
“I called earlier and made an appointment with Yasmin to get my hair braided,” she said.
Indigo tried to mask her surprise. “You’re Nizhoni?”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Yep, that’s me. And yep, I want to get this long, beautiful hair washed, brushed, and pulled into one braid. Can the young lady you mentioned do it?”
Yasmin had made herself comfortable on the red sofa in the center of the lobby. She walked over to her potential customer and smiled.
“Hi, I’m Yasmin.” She studied Nizhoni’s hair. “Mind if I touch it to see how thick it is?”
Nizhoni nodded. “Go ahead. I’m part Navajo and part African American, but it’s more curly than thick.”
Indigo contained her smile as she watched Yasmin run her fingers through Nizhoni’s ringlets. She saw glimpses of Aunt Melba in how her baby sister connected with this young woman and in how seriously she was
taking this assignment.
Yasmin stepped back and spoke formally to Nizhoni. “Your hair texture is very soft, but if you don’t mind me weighting it down with hair lotion, to help the braid stay firm, I think I can pull it off. It will be long though, all the way down your back.”
“I know,” Nizhoni said. “When I sit down, I’ll have to flip it over my shoulder. But that’s okay. I just need it braided.”
Indigo quoted her a price and looked to Yasmin. “Do you want to wash her hair or get Carmen to do that?”
Yasmin shrugged. “I’ve been a shampoo girl, you know. Aunt Melba called me sometimes when she was shorthanded. I’ll do it all. It won’t take me long.”
She led Nizhoni to the back and left Indigo and Rachelle alone.
“That was interesting,” Rachelle said. “Wonder why she wants to braid her hair, and in one braid at that?”
“I don’t know,” Indigo said. “But it’s great to see Yasmin stepping up and helping out. The way that girl keeps her room at home, Mama would be shocked. All she does there is watch those TV shows about models, read fashion magazines, and watch her weight, even though she’s barely ninety-nine pounds soaking wet.
“She’s been asking me to take her pictures so she can visit me in New York and stop by some of the top modeling agencies to drop off her portfolio.”
Indigo and Rachelle laughed.
“You never know, though, Indigo.” Rachelle, who had settled on the red sofa in place of Yasmin, shrugged. “Yasmin is a beautiful girl, and she does have the bone structure to be a model. She just needs to stay focused—like I’m always urging Taryn and Tate, and even you, to do.”
Indigo shook her head. “You’re twenty-one years older than me, so I guess you’re old enough to be my mother, but I don’t like lectures from you, you know. I just want you to be my favorite cousin.”
Rachelle walked over to the reception desk. She sat on the edge of it and looked Indigo in the eyes.
“I love being your favorite cousin. Sorry if I’m beginning to sound preachy. It’s just that I want you to be your best.”