As she moved past, Janine stopped, reached out a hand tentatively toward Gustavia’s hair, then let it drop before softly saying, “Family is important.” There were tears in her eyes as, leaving those words echoing in her daughter’s head, she passed through the door.
Family is important. Clearly, words the universe wanted Gustavia to hear. Firmly, she closed her ears and her mind to them. So tightly Estelle, who only wanted to help, to comfort, failed to make her presence known.
Chapter 13
This time, when Gustavia showed up at Hayward House seeking solace and maybe a shoulder, Tyler very wisely took himself off for the evening. His grandfather could use the company and Gustavia needed female time, that much was clear.
Julie knew without asking there’d been a family-related incident. As always, a confrontation with the Romans put Gustavia through a complex emotional ordeal; one painful to watch. This time, things were different, though. As she always did when these situations arose, Julie put on a pot of tea.
Settled with cups of steaming herbal goodness, Julie waited for the story and Gustavia spilled it in rapid fire bursts. Just the headlines.
“Zack showed up last night and, get this, he apologized and he said he loved me. So that’s the good. My car was sabotaged; that’s the bad and then today, my parents came over; that’s the ugly.”
At Julie’s nod, she continued, “Peter ordered me to get my things together; he wants me to move back home or else. And, get this, if I don’t, he will cut off my trust fund money.” Her eyes glittered with both anger and amusement. “He seemed surprised to learn that I wasn’t drawing on the fund and none too happy when I found his threat highly amusing. I laughed in his face, then told him what’s what and, after that, I kicked the pair of them out my house.”
“How did Janine react?”
“Truth be told, I didn’t pay that much attention at the time; but, now you ask, I think she really wanted to talk. As usual, he just kept cutting her off. You should have seen his face when I lowered the boom on him. Priceless.”
Underneath the lighthearted tone, Julie saw uncertainty and a deeply seated wish that things were different. She changed the subject.
“And what happened with Finn taking you home? Anything interesting? I want details if they’re juicy.”
“He cooked, we talked, we laughed, it was good, then I cried, he kissed me, we fought and he left.” It all came out in a rush.
“He kissed you.”
“Figured you’d pick up on that part.”
“And the kissing led to fighting?”
Gustavia inhaled, settling herself to tell the story.
“He kissed me then said he wished he hadn’t. Not a very smooth technique.”
“And he walked out without a limp?”
“Yeah. Guess I’m slipping.”
Slipping, falling. Same thing as far as Julie could tell.
“That’s when Zack showed up and we did the reconciliation thing before he gave me pain meds and sent me off to bed. He stayed in the guest room in case I needed him.”
“That boy’s heart is in the right place.” Estelle spoke as she shimmered into visibility just before they heard the doorbell chime faintly.
“First the bell, then you appear, Grams.” The sparkle in her eyes softened the dryness of Julie’s tone. “It’s what we agreed.”
“I’m trying. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.” An almost contrite Estelle said, then turning to Gustavia, “How are you feeling? Any headaches? Blurred vision?”
“You sound like my doctor. I’m fine, just a few sore places. I’m glad you’re here. Did I see you and Julius right before the accident?”
“We put up a shield, tried to slow the car. It happened so fast there wasn’t much time, but we did what we could.”
“I’m grateful, can you tell Julius thank you for me?”
“Tell me yourself, though it’s not necessary. It was that Logan wasn’t it? He tampered with your car.” Now Julius stood beside Estelle. “Been waiting for a chance to talk to the two of you alone. That boy’s managed to shield himself strongly enough that I can’t find him even when he’s nearby. I think that’s how he got past me to cut your brake lines.”
A chill spilled over Gustavia. “Does that mean he knows about you? How could that be possible?”
“I think it might be worse. I’m getting the sense that there might be another spirit involved. You’d better get those men of yours digging into his history. Maybe he’s getting a little extra help from this side of the curtain, same as you. Ask Kathleen, maybe she knows something.” Then with a nod of his head to indicate he’d finished speaking his piece, Julius faded leaving the two women and Estelle alone again.
“Listen to him; he has more experience with being dead than I do. Now, back to what I was saying, your brother is a good man, Gustavia. He just needed some time and an adult perspective to see you as you are. That other one, the carpenter with the little girl, he’s overwhelmed by fear. For her, for himself. He’s fighting it—but it’s powerful—and he’s trying to turn you away with one hand while pulling you back with the other.”
Gustavia nodded; Estelle nailed it: the situation was exactly as she said, push and pull. “What should I do? I don’t want him if he’s not in it fully. You know me, I don’t do wishy-washy.”
“He has to work it out on his own; you just be yourself. That’s enough. For him and for everyone. Goes for those parents of yours, too.” There was a speculative look in her eye. “Got a peek at your mother earlier.”
Gustavia and Julie exchanged a meaningful look.
“No, I wasn’t spying. I didn’t go in the house. I was just making my rounds—I like to keep an eye on all of you—and happened to see them on their way out. Your father looked like someone shoved a skunk under his nose, but your mother seemed genuinely upset,” she mused.
“Maybe so. Not my problem.” Gustavia was mutinous. She would not be pushed when it came to her family, not by Kat, not by Zack, and not by Grams.
Estelle knew this was a touchy subject. And she had her own opinions about the type of people who let such an amazing daughter feel so unloved, but sometimes a second chance was worth taking. Better not to push, though, or she might do more harm than good.
“I’ll leave you two to talk, then.” She was gone.
“Busybody.” Gustavia said, but with affection.
“I heard that.” Came a faint echo.
“I’ll get Tyler on that research, see what he can find. If there are any blanks, we can get Zack to tug a few strings on his end. So that part’s easily sorted. What about the rest?
“What rest? My parents? Nothing. It’s up to them to make the moves.”
“I meant Finn and you know it.”
“Oh, him. I don’t know. I knew he was running scared, maybe being all judgy; but, if it’s that deep—well—that shines a different sun on things.”
“Shines a different light?” Julie grinned.
“Whatever.” Gustavia waved an impatient hand. “Way I see it, I can either sit back and leave it up to the universe or I can do something to help him.”
Julie nodded in acknowledgment, “Any thoughts on what that might be?”
“Not yet, but I’ll figure something out.”
Julie pitied Finn. Just a bit.
_,.-'~'-.,_
After her conversation with Julie, Gustavia woke up feeling restless. She couldn’t settle in to work so she spent some time tending her gardens. When that didn’t relieve the feeling, she tried yoga, then meditation. She needed to do something. Something drastic. But what?
Things were changing, her relationship with Zack for one; whatever was going on with Finn for another. Julie would be getting married eventually. Another change. She’d taken a stand with her parents. Major change. It was time for more.
_,.-'~'-.,_
An hour later Gustavia strode into Bombshell, plunked herself down in the hairdresser’s chair, and ordered, “Cut it o
ff. All of it.”
Kalyn, the owner exchanged an uneasy glance with Sara the color expert and makeup artist.
“Do what now?”
“I don’t know--give me a bob or a shag or whatever everyone else is having these days. I’m looking for a change; it’s been too long since I did this. Go ultra-short, a nice pixie cut or something, I don’t care. Something crazy, something normal. Anything. As long as it’s different.”
Sighing at the lack of reaction, Gustavia began removing the clips and bands that secured her braids in place while Kalyn watched in trepidation. In her experience, when a customer asked for a total change they were in one of two head spaces. Happy and excited, ready for a new chapter in their life or hurting and angry. The former usually ended well while the latter rarely did.
In her professional estimation, Kalyn figured Gustavia was operating from a mix of the two or even from some third motivation, one the stylist couldn’t quite pin down. “Darling, it’s your hair, I’ll cut it if you really want me to and it will be fabulous. I don’t do normal and I can tell, you don’t, either.”
Six feet tall and willowy, Kalyn wore her own jet black hair in a severely angled, asymmetrical bob. Dramatic makeup drew attention to shrewd, ice-blue eyes; her lipstick was blood red. Simply dressed, she wore comfortable leggings under a billowy white blouse. This was a woman who would understand the need to project a certain image and stand out from the crowd.
“Listen. I used to change my look all the time. Short hair, long hair, dreads, every color of the rainbow. I like my braids, but people have come to expect me to look and dress a certain way. I put on a pair of jeans to do some work and all of a sudden I’m getting these shocked expressions and questions. Gets on my nerves.”
Kalyn nodded in sympathy.
“My publicist wants me to tone it down so, naturally, I ramp it up. Now, what used to be just me wearing clothes that make me happy has become some kind of statement or something. People don’t see me anymore, just the clothes and the hair.”
“First impressions are always based on visual cues; it’s what keeps me in business.”
“Yeah, I get that. I know most people think I look like a whackadoo. And I figure if they can’t look past the outside--who needs them anyway? But now it has become a thing, you know? It’s become expected; and I hate doing the expected. Is that wrong?”
“Nah, its female. Unpredictable. We’re built that way.” Kalyn smiled.
Impatiently, Gustavia finished pulling out the braids then finger combed the thick mass. “Please?”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s only hair, it grows back. Just do it.” Gustavia smiled.
Kalyn spun the chair and spoke to Gustavia’s reflection as she lifted the thick mass, running her hands through its silky length.
“If we take off at least eight inches, you can donate hair to make wigs for cancer patients.” Kalyn’s statement brought a beaming smile to Gustavia’s face.
“Oh, that’s such a great idea. Please, yes, I want to do that.”
“Do you want a drastic change just for the sake of it or something that will give you options? I’m thinking we could go shorter, say, a couple inches below shoulder length, layer it just a bit,” she mused. “That leaves you enough to keep the braids when you want them. It will be versatile enough to let you play, but still polished enough that you can do a quick blowout when you want something simpler.”
“Do it. I’m in your hands.”
Loosened, Gustavia’s hair fell nearly to her waist.
“Okay. Here goes.” Kalyn fitted an elastic band well above the minimum length for donation and asked, “Ready? Or maybe a glass of wine first?”
There was a nod, an intake of breath, and then the sound of scissors snipping through the thick tail of hair.
Surprisingly, Gustavia felt no fear at all. She loved nothing more than bringing happiness to others. And if she’d known donating hair was an option, she would have been on a mission to do it as often as possible.
“I’ll take that wine now.” Her smile brilliant, her eyes sparkling.
She surrendered herself to the feel of hands in her hair, the washing, the combing and the tug and pull accompanied by snipping sounds and the slithers of hair falling to the floor. She let Kalyn work her magic without direction, seemingly without interest. This moment signaled the outside manifestation of the changes in her life.
Somewhere between home and the salon, Gustavia had decided that getting a makeover was more than a response to the restlessness she had been experiencing.
Without realizing it, she’d slipped into a rut; Granted, it was a comfortable rut, she liked her clothes, liked dressing her outside in the colors and textures that best reflected her inner state. Still, sometimes it was tedious taking care of all that hair, and every so often the sound of bells and beads jingling and clanging together just flat got on her nerves.
Sometimes she wanted to wear black. Sometimes she just wanted to throw on something quick and simple, drag a comb through her hair and leave the house without confounding the image she had somehow created of herself.
Options, that’s what Kalyn offered. That’s exactly what she was looking for.
By the time she heard the blow dryer shut off, Gustavia had been lulled so deeply into a meditative state that Kalyn had to shake her shoulder to bring her out of it.
The woman in the mirror was a stranger. Beautiful, striking, but still a stranger. Just below shoulder length, the sleek mass of honey-colored hair was subtly layered to provide movement. She shook her head to see feather-like strands dance around her face then settle perfectly back into place.
“I like it. No, I love it. But, now the makeup looks wrong.”
“Sara could do a makeover if you like.”
“I only use organic stuff on my face.” Gustavia cautioned.
“We carry a very good line of all natural products. Maybe a nice stress reducing facial to go along with your transformation? It’s good for body and soul.” Both women’s kindness was like a soothing balm to Gustavia’s jangled nerves. Nerves she’d just now begun to feel.
What had she done? Had she somehow sold out?
This was a major change, she thought as she took a deep breath and willed away the tension that was threatening to creep along her spine.
“Give me the works, if you have time. I could use a little pampering.” To Kalyn she said, “And I really do love the hair.”
“Thanks.” Kalyn was immensely relieved; angry, unhappy customers were bad for business.
An hour later, a very different looking Gustavia left the salon. Completely calm, she felt rejuvenated. With the weight of all that hair gone, her head felt strangely light. It had been a long while since she changed things up like this.
She was already picturing a new Gustavia-style hairdo. A bun on top with a corona of swizzle sticks.
_,.-'~'-.,_
Next stop, that nice little boutique down the street. Finish the transformation some new clothes. The little store carried that new designer from the photo shoot she had worked on with Julie the day of the accident. She’d really liked those clothes. More mainstream than her current wardrobe, but still bohemian enough to appeal to her free-spirited sense of independence. Just the perfect balance.
Balance--just what she was striving for these days.
She was feeling fine as she pushed the door open, a tinkling bell announcing her presence, but it was still several moments before a familiar looking older woman rounded the corner from the area at the back of the counter.
Gustavia’s blood ran cold, then hot. Her mouth dropped open, held there for a moment before she remembered herself and snapped her jaws together. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear she was looking at her own grandmother. But that was impossible. Her grandmother wouldn’t be caught dead on the other side of the counter in a retail establishment. Totally impossible.
It wasn’t polite to stare, but Gustavia couldn’t seem to st
op.
“What’s the matter? Do I have something in my teeth?” The shopkeeper asked with smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corners indicating her smiles were frequent.
“No. It’s just—I’m sorry. I was staring; it was rude. I really am sorry. You look like my grandmother. Exactly like her. It’s uncanny.” Her grandmother would never have smiled like that, either. So warm, so open. When Vivian smiled, it was with a self-satisfied expression. One mixed with a large quantity of condescension.
With a solemn look, the shopkeeper asked, “And what is your grandmother’s name?”
“Vivian Roman.”
The older woman paled, and Gustavia, afraid the woman might faint, didn’t hesitate to move around the counter to provide an arm for support. Settling the older woman into a chair, Gustavia then knelt in front of her.
“What is it? Do you know my grandmother?”
Mouth working, the woman tried to speak but no words came.
“Can I get you some water?”
The woman shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine.”
“Can you tell me? About…Vivian?” Gustavia asked.
When the words came, they were none that Gustavia could have predicted.
“She’s my sister.”
Now Gustavia felt a bit lightheaded.
“So that makes you…”
“Great Aunt Valerie. And you must be Peter’s daughter?”
“I’m Gustavia.”
“Now, I may not have been part of the family for many years, but I can’t believe my sister would let any granddaughter of hers be named Gustavia.” Her smile softened the words as Valerie twisted her hands, a sign of her inner turmoil.
“No, she didn’t,” It was Gustavia’s turn to smile. “I was christened Eloise Roman, I changed it in college.”
Bells On Her Toes (Psychic Seasons Page 10