“Actually, I needed to talk to Granny, then I had a little rendezvous with Matt.”
“A rendezvous in the Ridge. Do I have to go punch him?”
“Not this time. You know, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about, and some things I’d like to show you.”
“About the big party?”
“Not altogether. Why don’t you come home with me, come on to supper? Mama and Daddy would be pleased to see you. And Callie would be thrilled.”
“Three redheads, a doctor and a free meal. I’d be crazy to say no.” Still he looked down at his grubby T-shirt, dusty jeans. “But there was dirty work to be done today, and I haven’t gotten home to clean up.”
“You can wash up at the house, and we’ll eat outside. We tend to in this kind of weather.”
“Then I’m right behind you.”
“I’ll just let Mama know you’re coming, so she doesn’t get caught without her lipstick.” Even as she reached for her phone, it signaled a text.
“Your mama?” Griff asked as she read.
“No. From Derrick.”
It said only: Yes, please yes. Save me from decorating hell.
“Something we’ll talk about.” She walked to the driver’s door. “What’re you still doing in town?”
“It looks like I was waiting for you.”
It made her smile. The whole damn day made her smile.
• • •
THE BURLY SUV drove slowly by as she got into the van. She didn’t so much as glance over, but probably wouldn’t have recognized the driver.
He’d changed his look again.
As she drove toward home, he drove up into the hills.
He knew what he planned to do, and when, and it pleased him to know what had started in Miami was nearly over.
29
When Griff walked into Vi’s place on Saturday, Snickers rocked the house. Women—stylists, customers, technicians—hunkered down to oooh over him, to rub his belly, stroke his ears, and generally to send the dog into an apoplexy of joy.
He thought back to his early twenties when he’d routinely looked for ways to meet women.
He should’ve rented a puppy.
He’d come in—under protest, and under Emma Kate’s orders—to get his hair trimmed up. He hated getting his hair trimmed up, but she’d been a little bit scary in the intensity of the order.
“You need yourself a trim,” Viola stated, and made his shoulders hunch.
“Emma Kate said I had to, but you’re busy, so—”
“Nobody’s in my chair this minute. You come over here, Griffin, and sit.”
The pup immediately plunked his butt down and looked pleased with himself. And the women chorused an awwww!
“A man should look well-groomed for his best friend’s engagement party.” Viola pointed a finger at her chair. “Be good like your dog.”
“Just, you know, a little.” Wishing himself pretty much anywhere else, Griff sat.
“Have I ever taken whacks at it?”
“No, ma’am.”
She whipped a cape around him, picked up her spray bottle to dampen it down.
“You’ve got a fine head of hair, Griffin. I’ll see you keep it. I suspect you were traumatized at the barbershop as a young boy.”
“They brought in a clown—one of those crazy-wigged clowns. It was bad. Really bad. Did you ever read It? Stephen King’s book? That kind of clown.”
“No clowns around here of any kind.” Enjoying herself, she gave his cheek a rub. “Boy, you need a shave.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of it later.”
“I’ll give you a shave.” When his eyes went a little wild, she just smiled. “Have you ever had a woman give you a good, close shave with a straight razor?”
“No.”
“You’re in for a treat.” She adjusted the chair, picked up her scissors. “You haven’t asked where Shelby is.”
“I was counting on you to tell me.”
“She’s in the back. We got a group of six women, friends since college. They’re taking a long weekend together, staying up at the big hotel. It’s nice having forever friends. You’ve got that with Matt.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She kept up an easy conversation while she drew small sections of his hair up between her fingers, snipped. To relax him, he knew. Every couple of months, when he talked himself into going in for a trim—or got pushed there—she did the same.
He liked to watch her work—the quick, competent, precise moves, the way her eyes measured the cut even as she talked to him or tossed out orders, answered questions.
She could keep up with half a dozen conversations at once. He considered it a rare skill.
“She’s going to be beautiful all her life.”
“Shelby?”
Viola met his eyes in the mirror, smiled. “Wait till you see her tonight. She’s got to get out of here soon, get Callie settled, then come back here so I can do her hair up. I see it in my head already.”
“You’re not going to straighten it, are you?”
“Not a bit. She says she’s got to get up to the hotel early, so you won’t be able to take her, and that’s a shame because I believe the pair of you would make quite the entrance.
“Lorilee, I’m about done here. Would you go heat me up a towel for Griff’s shave?”
“Sure thing, Miz Vi.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“Griffin Lott, how are you going to talk me into leaving my husband of near to fifty years and running off with you if you don’t trust me not to cut your throat?”
So he ended up cocked back in the chair, a moist hot towel covering his face—but for the nose. He had to admit, it felt great—until he heard the sounds of her stropping the razor.
“I still use my great-granddaddy’s razor,” she said conversationally. “That’s for sentiment mostly. He passed it to my granddaddy, and he’s the one taught me how to shave a man.”
He actually felt his Adam’s apple try to shrink.
“When’s the last time you did?”
“I shave Jackson most every week.” She leaned down close. “We think of it as foreplay.”
As he choked, she removed the towel. “We won’t think of that as you’re thinking of that with my grandbaby. Added to it, I used to shave Mayor Haggerty every Saturday morning—before he retired and moved to Tampa, Florida. We’ve got a woman mayor now.”
She poured oil into her hands, rubbed them together, then smoothed it over his face.
“This is going to soften your beard up, and give you a nice cushion between your face, the cream and the blade. Smells nice, too.”
“That doesn’t sound like your grandfather’s shave.”
“You’ve got to move with the times.” Busily she laid a thick layer of shaving cream over his face, his throat, using a wide, stubby brush to whirl it. “So to go back, I don’t shave the mayor these days. But there are one or two around who like a good barbershop shave regular who come in. Others go to Lester’s Barbershop. He’s always talking about retiring, and if he ever does, I’ll be expanding my services for gentlemen.”
“Always thinking.”
“Oh, I am, Griffin.”
His gaze slid toward the straight razor with its pearl handle, then away.
“What you do,” she continued, “is work in short strokes, with the grain of the hair. Then, if you want a good, close shave like I’m giving you today, you go back again, against the grain.” Gently, with her thumb, she pulled the skin under his sideburn tight. “Don’t feel much pressure, right? Gotta let the blade do the work. If you need pressure, you need a sharper blade.”
She worked methodically, keeping up a flow of words. He relaxed, mostly, even when he felt the blade against his throat.
&n
bsp; “Are you aiming to marry my girl, Griffin?”
He opened his eyes, looked up into hers. He saw amusement in hers. “As soon as she’s ready.”
“That’s a fine answer. I taught her to shave a man.”
“Really?”
“She might be out of practice, but she had a good hand with it. And speaking of that, here she comes.”
He was afraid to move, could only shift his eyes. He heard the dog scramble up, heard her voice. Heard her laugh.
“Fathoms deep,” Viola murmured. “That’s what the poets say. You’re fathoms deep, Griffin.”
“And still sinking.”
“Well, look at this! I didn’t know you went for the barbershop shave, Griff.”
“It’s my first.”
Shelby stroked two fingers over his left cheek. “Mmmm. Smooth as it gets.”
“Foreplay,” Viola said again, and had Shelby snickering.
“It does make you think, doesn’t it? Granny, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I got an SOS from the hotel as it seems Miz Bitsy took herself up there even after she promised she wouldn’t. Now I have to put out a couple little fires before she gets them blazing.”
“You go right on. I told you to take the day off.”
“I thought she’d be busy right in here. She’s got appointments, for hair and nails. I’ve got to get her out of the way, smooth things down and be back here in less than a half hour to get the girls. I promised I’d take them to Story Time, and Tracey’s got plans. Miz Suzannah’s got a dentist appointment. I can’t let Miz Bitsy have her head up there right now, and I don’t want to disappoint Callie and Chelsea.”
“I’ll do it.”
Shelby gave Griff’s shoulder a pat before she hurried to the front counter for her purse. “I don’t doubt you’re good at putting out fires, but—”
“No, not Miz Bitsy. I’ll pick up the kids, take them to Story Time.”
As with the puppy, this generated a chorus of awws from bystanders.
“Griff, I’m talking about two four-year-olds.”
“I got that.”
“And don’t you have work?”
“Matt took off—he and Emma Kate were able to grab an appointment to look at this place for the wedding.”
“What place?”
“I don’t know. Some wedding place. I’ve done about all I can do on my own till about three, when we’ve got some more material coming in.”
“I’m supposed to have the girls over at Miz Suzannah’s at around three. They’re having a sleepover.”
“There you go. I’ll pick them up, take them to Story Time. We can kick around in the park or something for an hour, whatever, if you’re not back. I’ll drop them off, and be back when the material gets here.
“You can take my truck. I’ll take your van.”
“I’m not sure if Tracey would feel right about you taking the girls.”
“Oh, she’ll be fine, Shelby.” Viola flicked that idea away. “She’s a sensible girl, she knows Griff, and she knows you’ve got your plate full today.”
“You’re right. My head’s already spinning.” She dug her keys out of her purse pocket. “Thank you, Griff. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time. If you’re not back by three, I’ll just give Callie a nail gun, give Chelsea a skill saw. It’ll keep them busy.”
“You’re a comfort to me.”
“Keys are in my right front pocket.”
She arched her eyebrows. “You just want my hand in your pocket.”
“Didn’t know it was an option when I put the keys there, but it’s a nice one.”
She slid her hand in, hooked the keys. “Thank you,” she said again, kissed him, said mmmm again. “Y’all pray for me,” she called out as she hurried for the door.
• • •
GRIFF SETTLED DOWN at Rendezvous Books, where apparently Story Time for the preschool set happened once a month. And who didn’t like Story Time? he asked himself, leaning against one of the stacks with a glass of iced coffee while about a dozen pint-sizers sat in a circle, listening to a story about a young boy and a young dragon with an injured wing.
He knew Miz Darlene—a retired schoolteacher who worked part-time at the bookstore. He and Matt had put a small addition on her house the previous fall, giving her a cozy reading room.
She deserved one, he thought. She read really, really well, doing voices, adding just the right elements of sorrow, joy, surprise and wonder.
She had the kids in the palm of her hand. And he was pretty interested in what was happening with Thaddeus and his dragon Grommel himself.
From somewhere deeper in the store, a baby began to cry. He could hear a woman’s voice softly soothing, then the sound of her steps as she walked, back and forth, back and forth, and the crying stopped.
Sunlight streamed in the front window, through the glass panes of the front door, falling in square patterns of light on the old wood floor.
The pattern changed when the door opened; the bell jingled, then the pattern fell back into place. Changed again when a shadow crossed over it. He barely noted the man as more than that—a shadow that changed the pattern briefly.
Then the story ended, and Callie ran straight to him.
“Did you hear? Did you? Grommel’s wing got better, and Thaddeus got to keep him! I wish I had a dragon.”
“Me, too.” He reached down for Chelsea’s hand.
“Can we get a book?” Callie wanted to know. “About Thaddeus and Grommel?”
“Sure. Then I say we get ice cream cones and head to the park.”
They got the book, and since it turned out there was already a second adventure written, he bought each girl the new one, then ice cream that dripped in strawberry streams faster than the kids could eat them.
He used the water fountain in the park to deal with sticky hands before he worked off the ice cream high by chasing the girls around, up and down the big play station.
When he dropped down, feigning defeat, the girls ran circles around him.
Callie tugged Chelsea’s hand so they moved a few steps away, and began to whisper.
“What’s the secret?”
“Chelsea says boys are supposed to ask.”
He sat up cross-legged. “Ask what?”
More whispering, then Callie gave an innately female head toss and marched to him. “I can ask if I want.”
“Okay.”
“Can we get married? We can live in your house, and Mama can come, too. ’Cause I love you.”
“Wow. I love you, too.”
“So we can get married like Emma Kate and Matt, and we can all live in your house with Snickers. For happy ever after.”
Undone, he drew her in. “Let me work on that.”
“No tickles,” she said, rubbing his cheek.
“Not today.”
“I like tickles.”
He drew her in again. Fathoms deep, he thought. “They’ll be back.”
He took out his phone at the signal.
Sorry it took so long—fires all out. On my way back.
He kept an arm around Callie as he answered.
In the park, smoking cigarettes and having a couple beers. We can switch off from here.
Her answer came moments later. Don’t litter. I’ll be there in ten minutes.
He slipped the phone back in his pocket. “Your mom’s on the way, Callie.”
“But we want to play with you!”
“I have to go to work. But before I do . . .” He shoved up, grabbed up both girls like footballs and had them squealing as he raced around the play set with Snickers running after them.
He caught sight of the man who’d come into the bookstore—or he thought it was him—at the far end of the park. Found himself holding the gi
rls just a little closer.
Then the man glanced to the left, grinned, waved and strolled off toward someone Griff couldn’t see.
Kids, he thought, setting the girls down so they could chase him. They made you suspicious of everything and everyone.
• • •
SHELBY ZIPPED THROUGH the rest of the day, doing the switch—kids and cars—with Griff, dropping the girls off at Miz Suzannah’s. She gave Callie an extra hug, thinking it was her first genuine sleepover—one outside family.
Back to the salon for hair, and at Crystal’s insistence, makeup. While she’d have preferred seeing to her own face, she couldn’t find a way to say no without insulting Crystal. But her nerves showed enough for Crystal to vow not to “tart her up.”
It certainly saved time, having herself fussed over like a celebrity, while she sent and answered texts from hotel catering, from the florist, from Emma Kate.
And too many to count from Miz Bitsy.
They kept her faced away from the mirror while they worked in tandem, then swung the chair around with a flourish for the big reveal.
All doubts vanished.
“Why, I look amazing!”
“Played up your eyes more than you usually do,” Crystal began, “but kept it subtle. So it’s elegant, like your hair.”
“I’ll say I’m elegant. And I look like me with a boost—not like the two of you fussed over me for near to an hour. I love it, Crystal, and I’ll never doubt you again. And Granny, my hair is just wonderful. That thin band for just a little sparkle sets off the curls you’ve got tumbling out the bun in the back.”
“A few loose tendrils around your face,” Viola added, fussing with them a little more, “so it doesn’t look like you spent five minutes on it—just spent the right five.”
“I don’t know if the rest of me can live up to what y’all have done, but I’ll try my best. Thank you, thank you so much!” She hugged them both. “I’ve got to go. I’m determined to be at the hotel before Miz Bitsy. I’ll see you both there.”
She calculated she’d have the house to herself for an hour before her mother got home—two if Ada Mae opted to get her hair and face done up at the salon first.
The Liar Page 46