by Molly Dox
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 1
Annie reached down and picked up a blue, latex glove from behind a potted shrub. She thought maybe the landscaper dropped it. Unlocking the door to her beauty shop, she went inside and tossed the glove in the nearest trashcan before vigorously washing her hands. Glancing down, in the glint of light, she noticed footprints all over the floor. This room was well overdue for a thorough cleaning.
Chimes on the door jingled, alerting Annie to someone’s presence. A short, squatty woman with a splash of gray curls came inside. She didn’t stand any taller than five feet, but took up more space than she needed.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bushmiller.” Mrs. Bushmiller was one of the beauty shop’s neighbors. She nosed into everyone’s business, which could be a good or bad thing depending on the situation.
“Morning, but it isn’t such a good one for me. Mitzi had me up at four AM barking. I don’t know what got into her! By the time I crawled out of bed to look outside, whatever had her attention was gone and she settled back in. At least she fell back asleep,” she said sarcastically. “I on the other hand wasn’t so lucky.”
“I’m sorry it was a rough night. Can I help you with something?” Annie walked across the floor, the rubber of her soles squeaking on the tile. She reached down to pat Mitzi, Mrs. Bushmiller’s dog, and gave her a scratch on the soft fur behind her ears. “Rough night, doggy?”
“I have the number of the groomer I was talking about the other day. I figured I’d drop it off while I thought of it. I’m heading back to bed.” She gave a wave and turned to leave. She wasn’t wasting any time.
“Oh, thanks.” Annie took the card with the number on it. Her dog, Pip, had gotten into some mischief, and while she gave him a bath this time, she realized bathing squirmy dogs was not her thing. She’d much rather pay a groomer. It was kind of ironic that she was in the business of shampooing, cutting, and grooming herself; but most people sat still. Pip, her over-hyper ball of fur was far from a good client.
Going back to wash her hands again, she finished cleaning up and then went to glance at a resume that was dropped off just as she was leaving the day before. She gave it a once over. The woman, Jamie, had worked at a competing salon that was only open for the busy season. And being a beach town in New Jersey, the busy season only lasted through the summer.
Unfortunately, with the vacation season ending, there was less work available, and those who wanted to stay scrambled to find work at a business that was open year round. She tucked the resume in the drawer for future reference.
Sandy Beach Island was a seasonal resort area off the coast of New Jersey. The small barrier island, which ran no more than twenty miles in length, saw a busy summer, but the swell of crowds died down once school started and the cooler weather swept in. Vacationing families filled the rental houses and then scattered at the end of the season.
Annie glanced at the clock. Her first appointment would be arriving shortly. Charlotte, one of her favorite clients and a dear friend, was due in at nine. Then Trish, her co-partner in crime and style, would be in to prep for Patsy, the cranky, chronic complainer.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Charlotte crowed as she walked into the shop. “I brought donuts,” she sang in a sunny voice.
“Hey Char.” Annie went to greet her friend and thank her for the donuts. “You know I’m trying to lose weight,” she whined before fingering a jelly donut.
“Annie, you’ve lost sixty pounds. You look great. Don’t let that jerk rent space in your head,” she cautioned.
Annie nodded. Charlotte was right. Ever since her husband, now ex-husband, told her he was embarrassed by the way she looked, and that’s why he’d been sleeping with his secretary, she’d let his words torment her. Two bites of the donut were all that she’d allow herself. It was the polite thing to do, since Charlotte went out of her way to bring them in. Annie washed her hands again and then went to join Charlotte.
“Did you hear about Wylie’s promotion?” Annie asked as she wrapped the cape around her client.
“Which is a joke,” Charlotte pointed out. “That boy couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. You know his father had a hand in that one. By the way, do you still want to do dinner tonight?” Charlotte looked at herself in the mirror. “You know, some days I look in that mirror and think I’m not doing too bad for my age. Then other times, the only thing I can see is a fat, old lady.”
“Do you know what I see? A vibrant woman who I adore, one that I’m happy to call my friend. No more putting yourself down,” she said with a frown.
“You’re right, of course. I’m just in a mood. What can I say?” Charlotte shrugged.
“Can we do seven o’clock at Uncle Buck’s for dinner?” Annie had to do a few things before she could enjoy the evening out.
“Seven works, but you know the fireworks don’t start until at least eight,” she laughed, pointing out that’s when Charlie showed up, the neighborhood drunk, and usually ended up in a fight with someone.
“Pip will disown me and find a new owner if I’m out too late,” she laughed. That little dog had become her entire world. After her divorce, she’d adopted a mix from the shelter, and the two of them took to each other like peanut butter and jelly, meshing so well that Annie wasn’t sure how she lived all her life without Pip by her side.
“She’s a dog, Annie, she can’t tell time,” Charlotte pointed out.
Annie clasped her hand over her mouth in exaggeration. “Don’t tell her that! She thinks she can.” Pip was way too smart for her own good.
Starfish Square was the little section of town that housed her “Beachside Beauty” shop. There were little boutiques and restaurants tucked throughout the tourist shopping square. It was a popular tourist draw during the busy season, but it became a ghost town once the cooler months rolled around. Most of the shops closed for the winter.
Annie hoped at some point to expand into both a salon and spa, but for now, they only catered to hair, as well as some waxing. If she added massage, nails, and facials, she could expand her business, but there wasn’t space in her current location. She thought about finding another building, but being in the center of things got her a lot of foot traffic and visibility during the busier summer season.
The second floor of the shops housed condos, and while some of them were empty most of the year, only acting as vacation homes, some residents lived on the island year round, Mrs. Bushmiller being one of them. It was an island of leisure and a playground for those who could afford it. What once started as a blue collar vacation destination had turned into an island of mansions and overpriced homes. Many sat on stilts with decks jutting out in every direction, aiming to get a view of the ocean or bay, sometimes both with the help of a roof top deck.
Annie Addison grew up vacationing on Sandy Beach Island, her family coming down during the summers, but it was her marriage to Alex that brought her here as a full-time resident. She was ready to live the good life, a lawyer’s wife in a beautiful home, but that dream came crashing down when she found out he had a mistress. When push came to shove and it all came out, he settled with his secretary and Annie took the settlement he offered to open her shop. She could have gone anywhere else, but she’d grown to love the island an
d the quirks of the many people who called it home.
“I had the chicken dream again,” Annie said, knowing Charlotte would be amused. She shook her head. “Those feathered fiends taunt me in my sleep.”
“How can a smart, savvy woman like you be afraid of chickens, of all things?” She chuckled.
“I have no idea where it came from, but those critters have beady eyes, and were pecking at the ground, pecking, pecking, always pecking, and then they looked up at me and started chasing me. Thankfully, I woke up.” Annie shuddered at the thought.
“Were they fast runners on their teeny, tiny feet? Better watch out, those chickens are going to get you,” she teased.
“Any word from the kids?” Annie changed the topic, after giving Charlotte a smile. She knew her fear was a silly one, but she didn’t get to choose which irrational fear she ended up with. She enjoyed sharing it with Charlotte though, and could take a ribbing well enough.
“They’re still pushing to get me into an assisted living facility near them! Can you imagine? I’m not that old, but the way they talk you’d think I’d have one leg into a grave already.” Charlotte shook her head, frustrated with the thought. “Don’t rush me, you know?”
“Sorry that’s still going on. Don’t they realize how active you are? You could outrun half of this island, as often as you’re moving around.” Maybe if Charlotte’s kids saw her more often, they’d see how spry she was. Annie couldn’t picture Charlotte in an old folk’s home, unless she was in charge of running the place.
“But I’m old, as they call it. So, apparently once you hit sixty you cease to function and you’re ancient and brittle, according to my children. They worry I’ll fall and break a hip or something. I told them, well, maybe I will. But then I’ll just go get it fixed.” Why couldn’t her children be blessed with common sense?
The chimes jingled on the door as Trish, the other stylist, came in. “Morning,” she waved, and then went back to a terse conversation on her cell phone. She had a client coming in shortly and needed to prep the color for her hair.
Annie finished with Charlotte and said good-bye as Trish’s client made her way in. The mood changed from cheerful to stormy, as if a shadow followed the woman wherever she walked. Annie welcomed their customer and went to let Trish know that Patsy had arrived.
The appointment book was growing barren now that September was partially over; most of their business came during the busier summer months. Gaps in time allowed her to take her dog, Pip, out for walks. During the summer she was forced to use a doggy day care, as there was barely time to breathe, let alone eat lunch or walk a dog.
Before Trish could make it to Patsy, the older woman was already complaining. It was her specialty. It wasn’t the fun, sarcastic type of complaining that friends did together, it was bitter and nasty, and in her mind, everyone was out to get her. “Just you watch, one of these days I’ll bite the big one,” she’d say, “and it won’t be an accident.” Her voice was laced with gravel from years of smoking, and the weathered lines around her lips exaggerated the fact that she’d puffed one too many cigarettes.
Trish calmed the woman as best she could. “That’s ridiculous, Patsy, you’re a robust woman in her eighties. Don’t you think if someone was going to off you, they’d have done it by now?” Trish shook her head and pulled a cape onto her, preparing to color her client’s hair. Mostly they toned down the shades of gray and white so it blended better. She’d outgrown the need to go back to a younger version of her hair color.
After discussing local politics, the newest promotion that everyone was talking about that was splashed across the newspaper headlines, and whining about her “useless” son who welches off her, she finally settled into silence.
Trish applied the color and let it set, giving the woman a magazine to flip through while she waited. She turned to Annie and rolled her eyes. They’d both be happy when her appointment was over.
“We’re heading over to Uncle Buck’s tonight, if you want to join us.” Annie mentioned to Trish.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I have a date,” she said, fluffing her blond hair. “Rich is taking me out. It’s about time. He keeps making excuses, and I told him that if he didn’t get his act together, he’d be my ex-boyfriend soon.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sure there’s an entire list of people who would love to off Patsy, but sadly she’ll outlive us all.”
Annie giggled. “That’s not nice,” she playfully scolded. “Besides, I need every client we can get.”
Chapter 2
After work, Annie walked and fed Pip before heading to Uncle Buck’s to meet Charlotte. Uncle Buck’s tavern sat in the center of town. It had gone through several transformations over the years, and pictures of the changes covered a hallway wall that led to the ladies room. Otherwise the walls were dotted with beach-vibe items like a fisherman’s net, starfish, shells, and framed photos of sunsets and boats. Her favorite part of the tavern was the booths in the main area that had high backs and gave you the illusion of privacy, even though you could still hear the people in the booth behind you.
Annie was more than hungry and ready for something good. Charlotte waved her over to the table she was seated at. Annie slid into the booth, and without hesitation, the girls broke into chatter and gossip.
Annie looked up as Patsy walked into the bar and settled on a barstool. Her son worked as the bartender, so she came to have a nightcap before turning in each evening. She might have complained about her son, but stopping in to see him was as much of a ritual as was her evening nightcap.
Annie went back to her conversation with Charlotte, and put her order in with their waitress. It all happened so fast, a sudden, loud bang of a body hitting the floor. Everybody turned, the entire restaurant patronage was stunned into silence. The old woman had slumped off her barstool and fell to the ground.
“Call 9-1-1”, Patsy’s son called out. “Mom! Mom! Are you okay?” Greg ran around the bar to get to his mother. Everybody stared.
Charlotte gasped. “Just like that.” Her own mortality started to play in her head. Sixty didn’t feel quite so young anymore.
Annie could only stare. The woman had just been in her shop earlier that day. Just like that, she was gone.
“She’s not breathing, somebody help!” Greg called out in a panic.
“An ambulance is on the way,” the manager yelled across the room.
All anybody could do was wait. Nobody jumped up to give her CPR. There were no doctors in the house, and the few patrons that were dining were all too stunned to move.
The medics arrived a few minutes later and loaded her onto a gurney. It didn’t look good. They couldn’t make the official call, but anybody watching could clearly see she was dead. Gone. Out of there.
Annie couldn’t help but stare. It all happened so fast. And yet, the woman was in her eighties. It’s not like she wasn’t going to go eventually, but still. Greg stayed with his mother as they wheeled the gurney from the building. The sirens wailed in the night air as the ambulance made its way to the hospital just over the causeway. Annie knew too much time had passed.
It took a while for people to start talking about what happened, and then it was in hushed whispers. Shock hung like a dark cloud over the tavern.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Charlotte mumbled.
“We don’t know that yet,” Annie tried to encourage. “Maybe they’ll bring her back, modern technology and all, CPR, oxygen, defibrillators.”
“Honey, if that woman is coming back, it’s going to take a miracle. She’s done gone and checked out.” Neither woman said anything after that. It was as if a moment of silence seemed the respectful thing to do.
“She’s better off dead.” A drunken customer stood and made his way out the door with a parting shot. “That was one miserable lady. We’ll all be better off for it.”
The entire restaurant patronage was stunned on hearing the man’s words. Nobody knew what to say or do.
Annie thought about Pip. “Charlotte, if something happened to me, would you take care of Pip?”
“Of course, and you’d take Kit Kat?” Kit Kat was her feline companion, and the most spoiled cat on all of the east coast.
“Of course,” Annie answered.
“Though, let’s be honest, I’m going to go before you are. I’ve got a head start, and according to my kids, one foot in the grave, don’t you know.” She tsk-tsked and shook her head.
“Greg must be broken up, having seen it and all,” Annie said. She couldn’t imagine seeing her own parents dying right in front of her. It must have been horrible for him. It was horrible for her to see, and she only knew her as a client. Even seeing a stranger collapse like that would be horrible.
The women finished their meal, not sure what else to say. Each was lost in her own thoughts. Finishing up, they said their goodbyes and headed home.
Annie drove down the main drag, grateful that the traffic lights were back to their blinking pattern. Once the season was over, they turned off the traffic lights. There’s just not enough traffic to need them off-season. The change was hugely noticeable. With the lights on it could take a full forty-five minutes to get from one side of the island to the other, with them off, she could cover that same distance in half the time. The island itself was attached to the mainland via a causeway bridge that spanned over the bay side of the island. At its narrowest the island was all of two blocks wide, and at its widest six.
September was Annie’s favorite month. There were still a lot of shops open, the weather was amazing, but most of the summer crowd had left. Once October rolled around and the big lobster bisque challenge in the park finished up, most shops closed up until warmer weather and the crowds came back.
Annie drove to Barnacle Heights, the northern end of the island near the lighthouse. Her shop was in the busier center section of the island, in Sandy Beach Township. The northern and southern tips were quieter. Holden capped off the southern end. From the beach, you could see the lights of Action City at night. It was a happening spot where a plethora of casinos rose up with mirrored glass, fancy restaurants, and rows and rows of slot machines that were used by seniors who were bussed in from every direction, hoping to win big.