Love Gently Falling

by Melody Carlson

  “You’re on my team,” Ricky said to Johnny as they exited the garage, out into the cold night air.

  “That means you’re stuck with me, Dad.” Rita took the ball from her brother and dribbled toward the hoop—and suddenly it was game on. But, because of Ricky’s bad back, combined with her dad’s age, the stiffest competition was between Rita and Johnny. That was fun and loud and lively—and the fouls flowed freely.

  Rita was about to shoot what could be the game-winning basket, with Johnny tightly guarding her—so close she could smell his aftershave, a nice woodsy smell—when Zinnia came out, announcing it was time to go. But when Johnny glanced in Zinnia’s direction, Rita took her shot, neatly sinking it.

  “Nothing but net,” Richard said as he gave her a high five. “We win, Princess!”

  Johnny pretended to be crushed as he patted Ricky on the back. “Guess we went too easy on the old man and the girl,” he joked. “Next time we show them no mercy.”

  “Nice game,” Rita said as she shook Johnny’s hand, holding it a fraction longer than necessary as she looked into his eyes. “You’re not bad.”

  “You’re not bad yourself.” He squeezed her hand with a wink.

  As her hand slid out of his, she felt her cheeks growing warm. And it wasn’t just from the workout, either.

  On Thursday morning, Rita went to the nearby big-box building supply store and, based on Marley’s color recommendations, picked out her paint colors. She also found black and white ceramic tiles for the mirrors. But so far she wasn’t having any luck with drawer pulls for the station cabinets. She picked up a few other things, and it was past noon by the time she started to make the secondhand store circuit. Her goal was to find some interesting retro items to use as accents. Armed with her paint samples and fabric, she perused the shops and selected some unique pieces. It was time-​consuming, but fun. Sort of like a treasure hunt.

  By the time she got back to the salon, only Charlene was left, and she seemed to be in a foul mood. When Rita questioned her, Charlene just shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I just think it’s useless.”

  “What’s useless?”

  “All the trouble you’re going to—planning to fix this place up.”

  “Why is it useless?” Rita set a bucket of paint down by the door.

  “It’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?”

  “Even if you get it all finished before you leave—which, I’m sorry, but I have my doubts about—it isn’t going to feel the same here without Donna.” Charlene started to cry. “Donna was the heart of this place, Rita. She’s the one who kept us all moving the right direction. I’ve tried to maintain for her, but I’m not cut out for it. I’m not the leader type.” She paused to blow her nose.

  “But Mom will come back…eventually.” Even as Rita said this, she wasn’t sure.

  “When?” Charlene held up her hands. “I popped over to see her during my lunch break. I tried to talk to her and it was so hard. I know she was doing her best, but I couldn’t make out more than a word or two. I don’t like sounding so negative, but Donna still has a long, long way to go—I mean, before she’s ready to come back to work. Even then, she won’t be able to cut hair—not with just one hand. And if she can’t talk, she won’t be much use with customers.”

  “Stroke patients have been known to recover within six months. Maybe not completely, but she should have her speech back by—”

  “Six months?” Charlene blew her nose again. “I didn’t want to tell you, Rita, but I’d been thinking about retirement. Donald plans to retire in June, and he’d like to travel some. I want to be free to join him.”

  “I understand.” Rita nodded. “You need to do what you need to do, Charlene. I don’t expect you to put your life on hold for the salon.”

  “But I know you’re putting your own savings into this renovation, Rita.” Charlene put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your money.”

  “Well, I think it’s a good investment.”

  “It’s a very risky investment.” Charlene frowned. “I hope it’s an investment you can afford to lose, honey.”

  “I’m doing it for Mom,” Rita said stubbornly.

  Charlene reached out to hug her. “You’re a good girl, Rita, and I know you want to help your mother. I just hope you won’t be sorry…that it won’t all be for nothing.”

  Rita hugged her back. “I think we’re all under a lot of stress right now. And it’s probably going to be even more stressful for the next week or so. In fact, I think you should call it a day now. Go home early. If there are any more appointments, I’ll take them.”

  “There aren’t any.” Charlene sniffed. “Which is exactly my point. What good is it to fix this place up if we don’t have the business to support it in the long run?”

  “Don’t you worry about that.” Rita opened the closet, handing Charlene her coat. “We’re going to do everything we can to make this thing work, and if it doesn’t—well, they can’t say we didn’t go down fighting.”

  But as Rita drove home later that night, Charlene’s dismal forebodings were still ringing in her ears. Charlene was right, it was a risky investment, and despite her bravado, Rita was getting worried about how much money she was spending. Yet she knew she was being frugal, and that a renovation like she was attempting really should’ve cost much, much more. She was still mulling these things over when she went into the house.

  “How’s Mom?” she asked Ricky when she found him in the kitchen.

  “She went to bed already,” he said glumly. “And Dad’s asleep in his chair.”

  “Oh…?” Rita glanced at the clock. “Kinda early to go to bed.”

  “Yeah, Mom said she was tired from doing rehab today. But I think she’s really just depressed.” He scowled. “I know how she feels.”

  “Oh, Ricky.” Rita put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re being such a trooper with Mom, but I’m sure it’s not easy.”

  “It’s pretty discouraging.” He closed the dishwasher so firmly that the dishes inside rattled. “I just keep wondering why our family’s been hit so hard these last couple of years. I mean, first Dad’s job gets the ax. Then it’s me—getting hurt and losing my football scholarship. Now Mom and this stupid stroke.” He frowned at her. “You better watch your back, sis. You might be next.”

  Rita felt a shiver go down her spine. “Oh, I’m not worried,” she assured him, even though she wondered. “And don’t forget how our family has had it so good for so many years. I mean, our parents have had a good, happy marriage. We’ve all had good health…well, until recently. And I know we’ve never been wealthy, but we’ve never really gone without, either. Maybe there’s good that’s going to come out of all this.”

  “The old ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ philosophy?”

  She pointed to a dusty plaque that had been hanging by the fridge for as long as Rita could remember. “I know this is what Mom believes, Ricky. I guess I’m trying to believe it too.”

  Ricky read it out loud. “We know that for those who love God all things work together for good.”

  “It’s a good promise.” She sighed. “Although a bit open-ended since it doesn’t say how long it will take for things to work together for good. I guess that’s where faith comes in.”

  He made a lopsided smile. “I never really thought you were that much like Mom, Rita. But maybe you are. That sounded just like the kind of thing she would’ve said.”

  “I wish I was more like Mom.” Now she confessed to him about how she was more than a little worried about the future of the salon. She even told him about what Charlene had said. “To be honest, I’m feeling pretty overwhelmed. What if Charlene’s right? What if we go to all this work for nothing? What if it doesn’t work?”

  “What do you mean by doesn’t work?”

  “What if we don’t increase the clientele? That’s what this is really all about. This family needs that business to succeed.”
>
  “Oh…” He removed a can of soda from the fridge, loudly popping it. “Is there something more we can do to make sure that it does succeed?”

  She got a soda for herself, and as they sat at the kitchen table, she went over her various plans for promoting the salon.

  “Those are great ideas.” Ricky nodded. “But you know what I’d like to do…”

  “What?”

  He made what seemed a devious grin. “I’d like to steal some business from Zinnia’s.”

  Rita laughed. “Well, so would I. I mean, not steal, exactly. But I wouldn’t mind if she’d share some with us.”

  “I’m sure most of her clients used to go to Hair and Now.” He held up a finger. “What if I printed out some flyers? Like something we could pass out around the mall? Or maybe stick on cars?”

  “People hate it when you hand them stuff or mess with their car.”

  “What if these flyers had a discount coupon? A lot of people are into saving money with coupons.”

  Rita considered this. “A coupon…? You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

  “I could make a flyer on my computer and print it out. I could even go to the mall and distribute them for you. I have no problem taking a little flak from folks.”

  Rita studied her baby brother. Ricky was big and handsome and youthful. “I could imagine some of Zinnia’s younger customers eagerly taking a coupon from a guy like you. Especially if you cleaned yourself up a little.” She pointed at the front of his torn T-shirt, where something had spilled.

  They talked about it some more and finally came up with a solid plan that included a small price increase at the salon. They wouldn’t be as expensive as Zinnia’s, but they wouldn’t be quite so cheap either. “And maybe we can have a members’ discount club.” Rita paused to make more notes. Eventually they had it all worked out. Ricky would make the flyers with a ten-dollar-off coupon. He’d print them on lime green paper and distribute them during the weekend. Richard would be home and able to give Ricky a much-needed break from helping with Donna.

  “This is perfect,” Rita said with enthusiasm. “The salon will be closed during the weekend, so no one can go down and see what a mess it is.”

  “What if they look in the windows?” Ricky asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Good point.”

  “I could cover them with paper for you. With signs saying we’re under renovation and when we’ll reopen.”

  “Ooh, I like that. It will make it mysterious.”

  By the time Rita got ready for bed, she was feeling greatly encouraged. She knew that the hardest work was still ahead, but she felt ready for it. She felt hopeful. As she got into her creaky little twin bed, her thoughts drifted away from the salon and onto something else. Or someone else.

  As much as she’d tried not to think about Johnny, it seemed that whenever her guard went down, her thoughts like an arrow went straight to him. She’d replay the times they’d spent together, the conversations they’d had—as well as the numerous times she’d stuck her big foot in her mouth. The bottom line was that she knew she was attracted to him, and sometimes she felt fairly sure he was attracted to her, too. But what she couldn’t wrap her mind around was the Zinnia factor. It just didn’t make sense to her that someone like Johnny would be into someone like Zinnia. Not only because Zinnia was a few years older than him, but simply because they were so totally different. Johnny was good and generous and polite and kind. And Zinnia—well, she was just Zinnia. Certainly, Rita was aware that Zinnia was petite and pretty. And she did own a successful business. And sometimes she could actually be surprisingly nice. And it seemed to be true that she’d changed some in recent years, but she was still Zinnia. And as hard as Rita tried to forget some of the less than enjoyable moments with Zinnia, sometimes it was difficult.

  Chapter 12

  As Rita drove through her parents’ neighborhood on Friday morning, she noticed an estate sale sign pointed toward an old but very upscale neighborhood. Although it was bitter cold and windy out, she wondered if it might be worth stopping for, especially since she hadn’t had too much luck with the secondhand shops yesterday. She found the house and, seeing it was a well-maintained Victorian, decided to chance it. Several cars and trucks were already parked in front, and people were hurrying inside. Apparently the homeowner had died, and her children were trying to empty the house so that it could be sold.

  “The large items are marked,” a woman said. “We’ll take offers on anything that’s not.”

  Rita hurried through the main area of the house, not seeing anything of interest, but when she reached an upstairs bedroom, she thought she’d won the jackpot. The room was right out of the sixties or seventies. She ran to get one of the cardboard boxes she’d seen by the stairway and quickly began filling it with interesting items. She wasn’t sure how much to offer, but hurried down to figure it out and was told the cashier was in the garage. And there, while waiting in a short line, she spotted a couple more treasures. One was a box of colorful Valentine decorations, including several strings of hot-pink heart-shaped lights. The other find was a box filled with old-fashioned clear glass knobs. It wasn’t anything like what she’d imagined originally, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought they would work. And from what she could see there would be enough pulls for all the station cabinets. Unless they were terribly expensive, they would be absolutely perfect.

  “I’m not sure how to make an offer,” she admitted to the gray-haired woman taking money.

  The woman frowned at the boxes then shrugged. “Forty bucks for everything seem fair to you?”

  “Sure. That sounds more than fair.” Rita extracted a pair of twenties from her wallet.

  “Well, it’s all gotta go. We plan to list the house next week. Tell your friends.”

  Rita paid her and thanked her, but as she drove away, she felt like a bandit. And as soon as she was in the salon, she texted Marley to tell her about the fabulous estate sale. She unloaded her treasures into the storage room and unlocked the doors. Then, going to the appointment book, she looked over what was scheduled for the few days following the renovation and before the grand reopening. Seeing there were fewer than a dozen appointments, she decided to call every one of them and reschedule them for the following week. She hoped she wasn’t being overly cautious, but just in case something took longer than expected, she wanted a little wiggle room. The initial response of some clients was a bit negative, but her offer of a discount for their inconvenience seemed to make up for it.

  As usual, Charlene was the first one to arrive, and Rita immediately told her about the promotional plans she and Ricky had made, as well as the ads that would start running by Sunday. “So it’s possible we might get people wanting to book appointments while we’re renovating,” she explained. “I’d appreciate it if you could handle any phone calls while you’re here.” Charlene agreed to this, but Rita could see the doubtful look in her eyes, as if she thought they were crazy for doing this.

  Rita spent the bulk of the day running last-minute errands, gathering supplies, and checking her lists, and by the time she had the salon to herself, she was ready to roll up her sleeves and tear into it. She’d already had the hairdressers empty their stations into boxes that were stored in the back of the storage room, but she decided to empty everything else that wasn’t nailed down.

  It was past seven by the time she had the place completely stripped. She was just putting some old posters into the extra Dumpster that Johnny had arranged to be delivered to the back door when she saw a familiar red pickup driving past. She waved with enthusiasm, hoping that Johnny would pause to say hi. To her delight, he parked in back and came inside. “I forgot to tell you that no one is cleaning tonight,” he said as she closed the door. “Seemed like a waste of effort since we’re going to tear into it tomorrow.”

  “Absolutely.” She kicked some pieces of a broken picture frame toward the door. “It’s already starting to look like a demo site in here
.” She led the way to the salon, pointing out to where she’d actually pulled up a piece of vinyl flooring. “I can’t wait to see it all torn out.”

  Johnny reached down and pulled off a piece too. “Looks like this will come up pretty easily. That’s good.”

  She checked him out more closely as he stood. “You look nice, Johnny. Big date tonight?”

  He shrugged. “No, not really.”

  “Well, it is Friday.” As she wiped her dirty hands on the front of her dirty jeans, she wondered what “not really” meant. Did he actually have a date, but didn’t want her to know? “Some people are known to go out on Fridays.” She grabbed another corner of the flooring, giving it a firm jerk but only managing to peel off a few inches. She tossed it with the other pieces. “And I’m sure there are plenty of available women who’d jump at a chance to go out with a guy like you.” She made a cheesy grin. “Like Zinnia Williams for instance.” Okay, she instantly regretted the snarky tone in her voice, but it wasn’t like she could take it back now.

  Johnny looked slightly embarrassed, or maybe just uncomfortable, and she really wished she hadn’t said that. She was obviously fishing for information about Johnny and Zinnia. So pathetic. Really, what was wrong with her?

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s really none of my business who you go out with, Johnny. My bad.”

  He peered curiously at her. “You really dislike Zinnia, don’t you?”

  She shoved her hands into her pockets and pressed her lips together, trying to think of an honest answer. “Oh, I don’t know that I’d go that far. To be honest I probably don’t know Zinnia well enough to dislike her. And I really don’t like the idea of disliking anyone. Although I’ll admit that I disliked her when she worked for my mom. But to be fair, she was young. So was I. Fortunately, we’ve both changed.” She made a sheepish smile. “Maybe I’m the one who needs to change now, huh?”