Hair Calamities and Hot Cash.

by Gail Pallotta

  She lowered her head.

  Hallelujah.

  She looked up. “I see.” She commenced to tell Philip about Junior and Ronnie’s sister, Suzy.

  He gave up thinking about the money and nodded politely.

  “We’re approaching Merchantville.” The pilot’s voice drifted over the intercom.

  The lady touched him on the arm. “We’re almost there. This has been a lovely trip. I’ve enjoyed talking with you so much.”

  Philip took a deep breath. “Thank you, ma’am. I hope you have fun with Ronnie.”

  She chuckled. “Oooh, I’m sure I will.”

  At last the aircraft descended, landed, and rumbled to a stop. Philip bounded out of his seat. He put his hand on the overhead compartment.

  The lady stood.

  “Can I get something for you?”

  “What a nice boy. Yes. I have a light blue cloth bag, fairly small.”

  Philip searched the luggage. “Is this it?”

  The woman grasped it. “Thank you. Now you have a nice time doing—Um, what are you doing?”

  If she only knew. “Just visiting.”

  He deplaned behind her, blew past the congested baggage claim, and practically ran through the doorway into the parking deck. He located the vehicle, threw in the duffle bags, and scooted in the driver’s seat.

  The urge to speed to Eve’s Clips raced through his veins as the old car rumbled just under the expressway’s sixty-five-mile per hour limit. Finally, he arrived and his heart danced as he parked and cut the engine. How could this seem more like home than his New York condo? Looked like Pete and Charlie had started brickwork on the outside of the building. Odd, no other cars were here.

  He walked to the door. Peeping around a CLOSED sign through a crack in the drawn curtain, he knocked.

  Eve slumped in the middle salon chair. The hair blowers lay idle on the vanity beside the combs and brushes.

  He banged as hard as he could. “It’s Philip.”

  Eve sat as still as a statue.

  What was wrong? Did she not hear him pounding on the door? He pummeled it with his fist. He’d knock the door down if he had to.

  Finally, she rose and let him in.

  The sadness filling her eyes pierced his heart. He hugged her tight. Even with the missing money looming over his head, an urgency to make things right for her flooded his veins. “Sweetheart, what are you doing sitting in the dark?”

  “Remember, I had to close.”

  “I thought that was temporary because you were upset over the dye.”

  “It’s hopeless. It’s one thing going wrong after another. I don’t want to give up my shop. It’s my life, but I care too much about my customers to keep ruining their hair. I’ll lose more than clients. They’re my friends. I doubt I have a buddy left in Triville.” Tears rolled down Eve’s cheeks.

  Philip wiped one away. If only he could brush away all the trouble in Eve’s life. Surely he could solve the supply problem. “Ahh, no, that’s not true.”

  She sniffled. “I haven’t heard from anyone since I closed. They don’t want to come here, or they’d be calling.”

  “They’re respecting your wishes.”

  “I never thought of it that way, but if I were one of them I’d contact me.”

  Philip sat down in the chair in front of the dryer and pulled Eve onto his lap. He put both arms around her waist. “Everybody’s different. We can’t expect other people to do what we would because they aren’t us.”

  “They know I live alone. Seems like they’d wonder whether or not I’m all right.”

  “Like Lloyd said when he insisted I take the car, people in Triville take care of each other.”

  Eve broke out in sobs. “I haven’t taken very good care of anybody. You should see poor Ralph. He was so excited about the new hair color.”

  “We’ll straighten this out. People haven’t contacted you yet, because it’s only been—how long has it been?”

  “I dyed his hair fire engine red yesterday.”

  “See, people don’t even know you’re closed.”

  “I told my customers scheduled for yesterday afternoon and today.”

  “They think you’re not feeling well. Open the shop, call them, and reschedule. They’ll flock in here, just as before.” Philip’s eyes felt like they had sand in them. “I think my lack of sleep and quick trips are getting to me.”

  Eve wiped her tears, reached up, and stroked Philip’s cheek. “I’m sorry. Here I am talking about my clients, and you have a huge problem.”

  Warmth raced through Philip’s veins. He wanted to give Eve a long, passionate kiss, but he couldn’t because of her rules.

  “You’re so nice to suggest I re-open, but I can’t do it. I no longer have the heart or strength to deal with products messing up my customers’ hair.”

  “You shouldn’t have to deal with them, and you won’t. We’ll fix this, but first let’s find a good meal.”

  “How can I even think of food? My life is destroyed.”

  Eve was the most wonderful woman Philip had ever met, but no matter how many times he told her he planned to see her after he completed his business with Mr. Jacobsen, she seemed to ignore his words. “Sometimes I think you don’t listen to anything I say.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “I listen.” She gazed at him with sad, puppy dog eyes.

  He held her tight. “It’ll be all right. I promise. We’ll chart a course of action, but let’s feed you first. Just the two of us at a nice restaurant.” He brushed her hair off her forehead. She was too nice a person to say it, but his crash caused some of her problems. Still, there was something very strange about those products. He had to help.

  She stood. “All right, Philip. I’ll change. You can wait in the shop or the house.”

  “If it’s all right, I’ll stay here and borrow a sheet of paper and pencil from your desk.”

  “Sure, make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

  He had to straighten out the product situation, and then figure out who did what with the missing million dollars. Eve knew everyone in Triville, and she seemed to have an extra sense when it came to people. He didn’t want to investigate without her, follow the wrong path, and waste time. He sat at Eve’s desk and picked up the pen. How could he sort things out?

  He tore a piece of paper off a pad, turned it sideways, and put three headings on it, Mr. Jacobsen’s money, Eve’s products, and The Two of Us. He rested the end of the pen on his cheek. Should he tell Eve about his pipe dream of living in Triville? A smile bubbled inside him.

  15

  Philip couldn’t believe he’d feel at home working in a room with pink flowered curtains, a shampoo bowl, and a hair dryer, but he did. He folded the paper he’d made notes on and shoved it in his pants pocket as Eve opened the shop door. She sauntered across the floor with her lips turned up slightly.

  Seeing a hint of the Eve he’d known when he left sent a tingle up his spine. “Where to, gorgeous?” He stood.

  “If you want the trout, that’s good for me. I’ve never been to the Fish Barn for lunch.”

  “Sounds great.” He wouldn’t have to floorboard the gas pedal to drive up the side of a mountain. He put his arm around her waist and escorted her outside, warm sunshine and a refreshing mountain breeze stroking his cheeks as he helped her in the car. A good meal in a relaxing atmosphere should cure her malaise. The Eve he’d known before he left Triville would emerge and together they could handle anything—couldn’t they? He slid in and started the engine.

  Eve gazed out the window all the way to the restaurant, only turning her head toward him when he parked beside the river. He let her out and led her inside the rustic plank building. The host seated them on the screened porch, and they ordered two trout dinners with baked potatoes and sweet tea.

  Again Eve focused out, peering through the huge glass casement overlooking the forest. The sun sparkled like diamonds on the clear water and played off th
e trees and underbrush. Was she seeking the peacefulness the views in these hills usually brought?

  If only he could find it too. But that was impossible with Eve so upset, and Mr. Jacobsen’s money who knew where. He sat with his hands folded while his insides trembled. His heart pounded for wanting to tell Eve to snap out of the doldrums. He couldn’t though. He cared too much about her. If he could stay patient everything would work out.

  She finally faced him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so upset I didn’t ask about your flight back. Was it OK?”

  “It was all right. I sat beside a grandmother and listened about a baby the parents plan to call Ronnie.” He’d make conversation now, let her eat something. Then as soon as she finished they’d get to work. He had a plan to remedy her supply situation quickly. Then they could find Mr. Jacobsen’s cash.

  The waiter brought the meal, and Eve lit into it as though she hadn’t eaten in a week. She held her fork in mid-air, a distant look in her dark eyes. “Was that an awkward conversation for you?”

  It’d been stressful because he was trying to come up with a way to retrieve the money, but he liked grandmothers and kids. “Not really. Grandma did all the talking.”

  Eve laughed and color returned to her cheeks. Would she face their problems and help him locate the thief before Mr. Jacobsen or anyone else knew his investment was gone? He’d have to tell George within the next three or four days, but surely they could recover it before then. After all, Triville was a tiny town. He ate a bite of fish then sat back and listened to the babbling stream.

  Eve peered around the room. “I like the table arrangement. The customers aren’t sitting on top of each other.” She sipped her tea.

  “That’s true.” He tried to ignore her rambling detachment, immerse himself in the serenity, and wait for the right moment to bring her back to reality. Yet his mind raced like an old ticker tape imprinted with missing money...botched hairdos...empty duffle bags.... “I want to discuss something.”

  Eve propped her elbows on the table and placed her chin on top of her fists. “Can’t we just enjoy our time together?”

  His smart, perceptive Eve drifted while he sat on a bomb about to explode. “We have. Now we should get to work.” Philip pushed his plate aside and leaned forward. “It’s too confusing to think about your products and the money at the same time.” Philip grinned. “One-track mind, you know. First up—opening your shop tomorrow.”

  Eve’s eyes grew misty.

  He couldn’t stand the despair that seemed to have taken hold of her. “Don’t be sad. I have a solution, at least a temporary one.”

  She sat up straight and wiped her right eye with her knuckle. “What?”

  “We’ll test all your merchandise and replace any faulty products with drugstore brands.”

  Eve’s eyes widened. “Such a big job will take too long. What about Mr. Jacobsen’s money?”

  “With both of us working we’ll have your products squared away in no time. Then we’ll locate Mr. Jacobsen’s funds together.”

  “Let’s think of a strategy to recover the missing bills right now.” Eve ate the rest of her potato and laid down her napkin.

  “As soon as you reschedule your customers, we’ll start.”

  The waiter brought the bill and Philip paid.

  He whisked Eve out of the restaurant and into the car and glanced at his watch. They’d only spent thirty minutes in the Fish Barn. He drove as fast as he could. No worries about getting a ticket. It wouldn’t reach speeds that high. He parked in front of Eve’s Clips. The entire outing—one hour and fifteen minutes. Plenty of time left.

  Eve sprang out of the car and charged through the doorway of the shop.

  Philip followed and caught up to her as she headed into the storage area.

  “I think the shampoo’s fine. Should we test it too?” Urgency filled her voice. His Eve was back.

  “Yep. Every single bottle.” Philip dashed to the supplies and scooped up as many containers of shampoo, dye, permanents, and conditioner as he could carry.

  Eve grabbed the rest.

  She lined up the bottles and boxes and turned the water on in the shampoo bowl. The sprayer flopped around and squirted the sides as her anxious eyes met Philip’s.

  “I’ll hand you the shampoo,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She poured a little in her hand, picked up the nozzle, and ran water over it.

  Next Philip passed her a container of conditioner. She emptied some of the liquid in the sink and sprayed it with water. Suds swam in the shampoo bowl and anger lined Eve’s eyes. She snatched up three more bottles. “It’s a good thing I have the drugstore brand.”

  Philip tapped her arm. “Let’s throw out the rest lest we have bubbles crawling all over the floor again.”

  She started laughing. “You’re right. Hand over the dye.”

  Hope surged through Philip at Eve’s happy outburst. “Chestnut Brown,” he called out as he gave her a packet.

  She squirted some on her hand and stuck it under the water. Red. “I don’t believe this.” She dropped the nozzle in the sink, opened another product, and wet it. “Red. Are they all red?”

  “I don’t think we’re talking green.” Philip gave the rest of them to her one by one. They all turned out red. This test was a good thing. They could quickly remedy Eve’s situation then put all their effort into finding Mr. Jacobsen’s cash.

  “Bring the permanents to the vanity if you don’t mind.” Disgust lined her tone. Her shoulders slumped as she opened each box and found no neutralizer. “What’s happening at the Just Right Company?”

  Philip shook his head. “You should call them, but first make a list of the items you need from the drugstore. We’ll buy them.”

  Eve stared at him with wide eyes.

  “How many permanents? How much conditioner? What colors of dye?” Philip eased into the seat with the pink flowered cushion at the desk and grabbed a clean piece of paper and a pen.

  She bit her bottom lip. “No matter the circumstances, I believe in integrity. I closed the shop because I could no longer bear to ruin my clients’ hair. It broke my heart, but it was the right thing to do. Getting Eve’s Clips open again means so much to me, but I don’t know how my customers would feel if they knew I bought the conditioner, permanents, and dyes from the drugstore. They could do that themselves.”

  “Sweetheart, they’re paying for the wonderful hairdos you create not the supplies you use.”

  Eve’s eyes lit up. “Do you really believe that?”

  “I know it.”

  “Ten permanents, twelve bottles of conditioner. Just write down “dye.” It’ll remind me to find the colors I need.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I could forget.”

  Philip wrote frantically then laid down the pen and picked up the list.

  She grabbed hold of it. “Thank you. I’ll buy these and pick up more later if I need to. Go deal with the missing money. I’m sorry this distracted you.”

  He couldn’t imagine attempting the investigation without Eve’s perception and knowledge of the people of Triville. “I want you with me from the beginning. I’m going with you to the drugstore.”

  She hugged him tight. “Thank you. I’ll hurry.”

  “How about a kiss.” He puckered up. “Just a little one.”

  She gave him a peck on his lips. He wanted to hold her close and kiss her deep, but this wasn’t the time. He guided her out the door.

  She wrung her hands until they parked in front of the glass display window at the drugstore. He followed her as she tore inside, zipped to the hair products, and pulled what she needed off the shelves. Boxes and bottles bulged from her arms. “I didn’t get a cart. Can you carry these?”

  She looked so cute, and more importantly, happy. “Sure.” He took a few items, dashed off for a basket, and swung the plastic container back and forth until he returned. They plunked the supplies in it and marched to check-out.

  Mandy bounded from her stool as Eve pl
aced her merchandise on the tall counter. She picked up a bottle of conditioner and her blue eyes widened. “Why are you buying all of these?”

  “Business is booming.” Philip leaned across Eve and wiggled his dark brows.

  “You’ll have to plan better next month.” Mandy reached for a permanent box.

  Philip rolled his eyes. “Is there something wrong with the products in this drugstore?”

  Mandy stopped scanning and blinked. “No, why would you ask?”

  “You don’t seem to think they’re good enough for Eve to use.”

  Mandy put her hand on her hip. “It isn’t that. People expect a hair stylist to have special items from a supplier.” Mandy jerked her head to one side. “I’ve never thought about whether they’re better or not. It’s just the way it is.”

  Eve looked as though someone had slapped her.

  Philip placed the last permanent on the counter. “When someone’s as talented as Eve, it doesn’t matter where she buys her supplies.”

  The muscles in Mandy’s face relaxed and she grinned. “That’s true. Everybody knows that.” She finished the transaction. “Thank you. Come again.”

  “Thanks. I will,” Eve scooped up her purchase and they left.

  Philip parked in Eve’s driveway and checked his watch. In a little less than two hours they’d temporarily solved Eve’s problem. She could phone her customers and start rolling up hair again.

  Whoever had Mr. Jacobsen’s bills would probably check them with a black light for marks. More than likely, Mr. Jacobsen would have used a rubber stamp or brush to personalize them with special ink. When the thieves realized that, they’d delay spending any of the money for a while. There were so few people in Triville. It couldn’t take long to figure out which ones would steal. Once Eve stopped worrying about her shampoo, conditioner, and such, she’d have the presence of mind to think about who might be a thief. She could probably name them.

  She knew everything about everyone from working in the shop so long. He’d give her another twenty minutes or so to get in touch with her clients. “I’m going to the motel to shower. When I return, we’ll find Mr. Jacobsen’s money.”