Return to Willow Lake

by Susan Wiggs

  “Come by when we’re shooting,” Zach said. “Sonnet can let you know a good day for that. Tonight, Jezebel wanted to introduce you to Paige.”

  Sonnet regarded him with silent suspicion. What were they up to?

  “Paige was my stylist in New York up until a couple years ago,” Jezebel said. “She used to give me the most wicked weaves. My hair was totally fly when she was doing it.”

  “I got out of the business in order to pursue something else,” Paige explained. “My grandmother got sick and I found a new passion—I became a wig maker.”

  “Whoa,” said Nina, pulling back. “I think I can guess where this is going.”

  Sonnet felt queasy. Like an idiot, she’d blurted out her fear of Nina losing her hair, thus putting a crazy idea into someone’s head—Zach or Jezebel; she couldn’t be sure. She turned to glare at Zach. He stared back, unapologetic.

  “Is this some kind of hair intervention?” Nina asked. “Because if it is—”

  “I wanted you to meet Paige, see what she can do for you,” Jezebel said.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is… It’s difficult for me.”

  “It’s hard for every cancer patient,” Paige said. “Believe me, you are not alone.”

  “You’re very kind to stop by,” Nina said. “Something I’ve found since getting sick is that I have a lot of angels in my life. A lot more than I ever knew.” She offered a smile that was soft with relief. “Thank you for showing up out of the blue like this.”

  Sonnet let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Despite the illness, her mom was still her mom, gracious and open-minded. “Did you drive all the way up from the city?” she asked.

  Paige nodded. “Jezebel’s been wanting me to see this place. It’s beautiful here. And the inn is incredible. They gave me a room with a balcony.” She turned to Nina. “I’m here to help, or just to pay a visit. Up to you.”

  Nina put a hand up to her head. Her arm looked thin—not slender, but genuinely thin. “I brought a wig catalog home from the clinic but I’m not quite ready to look at it. Supposedly I get to keep my hair for a few more weeks. And then…I guess I’d better have a plan B.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m your plan B,” said Paige.

  “Honey, you want to see this,” Jezebel said, motioning Paige over to Nina’s side. “Take a look at her pictures.”

  “Here’s my grandmother before she lost her hair,” Paige said, offering a photo of a middle-aged woman with a nice head of nut-brown hair. “And here she is with her wig.”

  Nina frowned and motioned Sonnet closer. “She looks virtually the same, just shorter. You do beautiful work.”

  “Thanks. Gran was my first client.” She showed them a few more pictures of women and men. “You can see I got even better with practice.”

  “Check this one out.” Jezebel handed over another before-and-after shot of herself.

  Sonnet frowned at her. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m a cancer survivor, Creampuff,” said Jezebel. “Couple of years ago.”

  “Jezebel, really? I had no idea.”

  “I kept it quiet. The tabloids put it out that I was in rehab or some nonsense like that.”

  Sonnet readjusted her thinking. Jezebel…a cancer survivor. It explained so much—Jezebel’s knowledge and compassion, her interest in Nina.

  “Thanks for sharing that,” Nina said. “You’re very inspirational. And the wig looks incredible. When the time comes—”

  “That’s why we’re here tonight,” Jezebel said. “It’s time now. See, the reason Paige’s clients look so good is that she makes the wigs out of the patient’s own hair. That’s the good news. The bad news is—”

  “You need the hair now,” Nina said, comprehension etched starkly on her face.

  Sonnet gaped, looking from Zach to Jezebel to Paige. “Seriously?”

  Paige explained the process. They’d take Nina’s hair tonight, leaving only enough to cover her scalp—the k.d. lang look, Jezebel explained. Paige would weave the hair, strand by strand, into a wig modeled after Nina’s natural look. Sonnet nearly forgot to breathe, listening to Paige, whose eyes lit as she talked about her work.

  “Anyway,” she concluded, “it’s an option. Would you like some time to think about it? There’s a gel on the market now that sometimes prevents hair loss. Maybe your doctor told you about it?”

  “Yes, but it hasn’t been approved for use in pregnant women, and it’s not always effective.” Nina pressed her hands to her face. Sonnet rushed over to the sofa and put her arms around her. Since she’d been back, she hadn’t seen her mother shrink with terror, not even before the surgery. It felt as though someone had snatched a rug out from under her, and she was unsteady, disoriented. Yet at the same time, it felt right to put her arms around her mother and simply hold her close. “Mom, you don’t have to do this at all—”

  “I know.” Nina brushed her sleeve across her face. “I could always just let my hair fall out in tufts and throw it away, right?” She smiled through her tears. “But what good would that do? I say we get started, if that’s okay.”

  “It’s great,” Jezebel said.

  “On one condition. I want Zach to film the proceedings.”

  “Really, Mom?” Sonnet squeezed her hand.

  “Someday I’m going to look back and say, ‘I can’t believe I did that.’ Zach?”

  “Sure, no problem. I had a feeling you’d want to.”

  It seemed so natural for Zach to be present for this very personal matter. He was far more than a friend, Sonnet reflected. He was family.

  “I brought all my gear with me. Maybe on the back porch?” Paige suggested. “It’s a nice night, and being outside makes cleanup easy.”

  Nina nodded in agreement. “Let’s do this thing.” Despite the brave words, her voice wavered.

  Now it was Sonnet’s turn to tear up. She caught Jezebel’s eye. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  Greg was tidying up the kitchen when they all trooped through en route to the back porch.

  “Brace yourself,” Nina said, a glow of excitement in her eyes. “I’m about to get all my hair cut off.”

  “Um, okay. Mind if I watch?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Mind if I drink while I watch?”

  “That’s fine,” Nina said. “By now, I’m used to you drinking without me.”

  He took out a six-pack of India Pale Ale and offered them around.

  “Thanks, I’ll wait until I’m done here,” Paige said, and Nina looked relieved.

  “One more request,” said Greg, and he took Nina in his arms, burying his face in her hair. He whispered something and she lifted her hand to his cheek.

  I’m so glad she has you, Sonnet thought. She wondered if she’d ever find a love like that, and the notion startled her. She was supposed to be finding exactly that with Orlando. Under the current circumstances, however, they were in a holding pattern and not likely to find anything together other than higher mobile phone bills. There was something wrong with that picture, she realized, but now was not the time to think about that.

  She hadn’t had a beer in ages, and the cold IPA tasted like heaven. Zach set up his video and still camera equipment. Paige explained the shots she needed, pictures from every angle, so she could replicate the look as closely as possible. She even requested some video shots, so she could study the way Nina’s hair moved.
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br />   With a flourish, she fastened a drape around Nina and took out a pair of wicked-looking scissors. “I’ve got a mirror if you’d like to watch,” she said.

  “No, thanks,” said Nina. “I’d rather be surprised.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. “I have no idea what my scalp looks like. It might be gnarly.”

  “You’re beautiful, Mom. That’s not going to change. You know that, right?” Sonnet wasn’t just saying it.

  “I can get your hairpiece done in a couple of days.” Paige gently lifted a lock of hair. The scissors made a crisp snipping sound, and the strand came away in her hand. She laid it on a sheet of plastic and moved on to the next one. The process seemed oddly ritualistic, with an air of gravitas. Zach recorded the proceedings, and Sonnet felt grateful for him, because she knew he would capture her mother’s sweetly tentative smile, and Greg’s indulgent regard.

  “You’re going to look fine,” Paige said. “I think you’ll be happy with your wig.”

  “I’m sure I will,” Nina said. “This is an incredible opportunity.” She seemed relaxed as Paige finished with the haircut, leaving maybe an inch of length all around. She shaped Nina’s remaining hair into an extremely short bob.

  “You look like a kid,” Greg said. “I like it.”

  “The piece might look slightly shorter and thinner than you’re used to,” Paige explained, brushing off Nina’s neck. “I have to use quite a bit of the length and volume of the hair in the weave, and there’s only so much of it. It’s best if I have extra hair to work with. Do you mind if I make use of donor hair?”

  “No,” Nina said. “Of course not.”

  Paige aimed a meaningful look straight at Sonnet.

  Sonnet put a hand to her head, startled. “Seriously? Can you use mine?”

  “No,” said Nina quickly. “No way. I’m not letting you—”

  “I was asking Paige.”

  “I could make it work,” Paige said picking up a curly lock of Sonnet’s hair. “I work with donated hair all the time. You and your mom are a pretty close match, even though you’re different races. The color matches, and your hair’s pretty similar in texture.”

  “Fine,” said Sonnet. “It’s all yours, then.”

  “You’ve never had short hair,” her mother pointed out.

  “Neither have you.” Sonnet wanted to get it over with before she lost her nerve. “We’ll look like sisters.”

  It was remarkably hard to sit still while Paige methodically cut off her long, curly hair. “Remember when I was little, how much I hated my hair?” Sonnet asked her mom.

  “All girls hate their hair,” Jezebel said. “If it’s straight, they wish it was curly. If it’s curly, they want it straight. And if it’s nappy…” She twirled a lock of her own hair around her finger. “Then you know you’re hot.”

  Nina looked mystified.

  “It’s a line from one of her songs,” Sonnet explained.

  “You used to put that goopy stuff in your hair,” Zach said.

  “Hey, that goopy stuff kept me from setting my head on fire out of sheer frustration,” Sonnet said. She tried not to wince as the scissors clipped close to her ear.

  After what felt like an eternity, her mother handed her the mirror. “There. You’re Halle Berry.”

  Sonnet stared at the stranger in the mirror. The breeze whispered across her neck and throat, and she felt as light as a feather, as if she might fly away. The transformation was startling and dramatic. She had no idea if she looked good or not. But when she saw the expression on Zach’s face, she knew for sure she didn’t look bad.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What the devil did you do to your hair?” Orlando exited the campaign bus, scolding her before both feet reached the pavement.

  Sonnet patted her short curls. “I gave it to my mother. And if you’re going to yell at me for that, we’ve got a serious problem.”

  “Ah, sorry. I’m being an ass.” Flashing his irresistible smile, as if delighted to call himself an ass, he strode over to her and gave her a hug. “Stressed out, and that’s no excuse. But…what are you wearing?”

  She looked down at the vintage jacket and boots she’d bought at Zuzu’s Petals. “My new look. You like?”

  “Cute. It’s kind of Bohemian.”

  “That’s what I’m aiming for.”

  His jaw hardened, but then he smiled. “You look fantastic, and I’ve missed you.”

  Behind him, campaign staffers poured from the bus, which was painted with a flowing banner and “Laurence Jeffries: Leadership for Tomorrow.” It was still surreal to Sonnet that her father had a campaign bus. Or that he had a campaign at all.

  “Has anyone from the Delvecchio camp come around?” Orlando asked.

  “No. Why would they— Oh.” Her heart sank. Of course—the election. Orlando ate, slept and breathed the campaign, sensitive to every nuance in the press or on the internet. The process actually made Jezebel’s show seem sane. “They’re not seriously going to make an issue of the fact that my parents were never married.”

  “I warned you, they might.”

  “Is my father with you?” She craned her neck to see what was going on. More aides and volunteers came out, swarming around the bus. A separate truck had pulled up alongside Blanchard Park, where the debate would take place. Already the town was swarming with the press, political bloggers, supporters and detractors from both sides.

  “He’s flying up by floatplane from Westchester in about an hour.”

  “Oh, good. Then there’ll be time to have a visit—”

  “Not hardly. He’s got to prep for the event, and the press conference afterward, and then he needs to get back to the city for a fundraiser breakfast in the morning.”

  She swallowed her disappointment. “He really wants this. He’s determined.”

  “You’re right. He’s a good man, Sonnet, and he’ll be good for this state—for the country. But getting there means he’s got to sacrifice a lot of personal time.”

  “I understand. Really, I do.”

  “He wanted me to ask you if you’d find him in the greenroom before the debate. He really wants to see you.”

  “Of course. I’ll make sure I find him.” She felt herself visibly brightening up. “What about you? Are you staying overnight?”

  “I wish. Your mom’s place is incredible. But I’ve got to be at the breakfast.” He hesitated, then said, “I’d love to see your mom, if she’s up to it.”

  “Thanks.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “And I’ve missed you, too.”

  They drove to the inn, where they found Nina and Greg busily whitewashing a set of Adirondack chairs. It was good to see her mom going about her life, doing everyday things. Yes, she moved slower. She had to force herself to eat, and her chemo brain made her forgetful. But she was committed to her treatment. So far, it was too soon for the docs to say for certain the drugs were working, but there would be news soon.

  As Sonnet and Orlando approached, Nina straightened, took off her hat and waved them over.

  “She looks good,” Orlando said.

  Sonnet felt a rush of gratitude. The wig created from her mother’s and her hair was a remarkable match for Nina’s natural look. Her own was completely gone by now, but thanks to the wig, she still looked much like herself. Only much too thin, her gauntness accentuated by the advancing pregnancy.

  “Welcome back,” she said, extending her hands to Orlando. There w
as a brief hug, made awkward by the fact that they barely knew each other. Orlando smoothed things over by turning to Greg for a handshake.

  “You must be here for the big campaign debate,” Greg said.

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, I can’t stay long, but I definitely wanted to drop by, see how things are going.”

  “Well enough, all things considered,” Nina said. “Do you have time for a lemonade, or maybe something stronger?”

  “I wish,” Orlando said. “Things are already getting set up in town, and the press is arriving. You, ah…were you planning to attend?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Nina said.

  Orlando’s shoulders stiffened and his eyes narrowed. Sonnet wondered if his tight, stressed expression was noticeable.

  “I already know who I’m voting for,” Greg said. “A debate’s not going to change my mind. Laurence is the right man for the job.”

  Orlando grinned, his natural charm emanating from him like a halo. Sonnet suspected she was the only one who could read the tension in his eyes. “Everyone on the campaign thinks so. We all appreciate your support.” He handed her a shopping bag. “I brought you an e-reader. Sonnet mentioned you’re a big reader, so I thought you might want to try one out.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Orlando. Thanks. I’m spending a lot of time in waiting rooms these days, so I’m sure I’ll put it to use.”

  “I loaded it with books I thought you might be interested in.”

  “You’re thoughtful,” Sonnet said, turning on the reader. “Let’s see what you’ve picked for my mom.” The screen filled with an array of nonfiction books—Nutrition for the Cancer Patient, The World According to Cancer, Knowledge is Power.… Okay, her mom was going to hate these books. Certainly she was committed to learning about her disease, but reading was her escape. Of course, Orlando couldn’t have known that. “What’s nice is all the variety that’s out there. I can get you the new Robert Dugoni novel, if you like.”