Hair Calamities and Hot Cash.

by Gail Pallotta

  “Thank you.” Philip flashed her a big grin.

  Her eyes lit up. “You’re welcome, handsome.” She served my cheeseburger then strutted off with her signature wiggle.

  I picked up a French fry. “You took care of that.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She’s just kidding around.” Philip sipped his sweet tea.

  “I know.”

  He swallowed a bite of his burger. “Chief Grimes led us to believe he knows something about Mr. Jacobsen’s money. I don’t understand how that’s possible. Do you think that’s true?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s very good at his job. He’s had offers to work for Homeland Security, but he loves Triville. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have solving a crime.”

  “I’ll hold onto that thought until he hands me the cash.” Philip wiped his mouth and laid down his napkin. “With Chief Grimes in charge there’s no need for us, especially you, to be involved anymore.”

  Bonnie Sue brought the bill and winked at Philip when she laid it on the table.

  He fished five dollars out of his wallet for her then we stood. Philip paid at the register and we left. In moments we sat in the sedan, Philip cranking the engine. “That was a close call with those two hoodlums. The sooner Robert locks them up the better.”

  “Amen, to that.”

  Philip drove down the mountain and pulled onto the road leading to Eve’s Clips. “Theft aside, I’ve come to like it here.”

  My pulse quickened, his words still spinning in my head when he parked in my driveway. I let us inside, and we proceeded to the kitchen.

  “Have a seat. How about coffee to go with the brownies?”

  He pulled a chair up and gazed at me. “Yes, having a cup of your coffee soothes a troubled spirit.”

  “Huh?”

  “I was thinking about the day I met you. You stopped what you were doing to bring me a drink after the crash.”

  I reached in the cabinet for a porcelain tray and arranged the brownies. The fact he remembered sent a warm tingle up my spine, but I didn’t want him to feel indebted. I turned and placed napkins on the table. “Anyone in Triville would have done the same.” I snickered. “Except Bonnie Sue. For you, she would have baked sweet rolls too.”

  His lips turned up and his gaze softened. “Your Triville hospitality may endear you to me, but that’s only part of it. You’re a gifted woman.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I’m just an ordinary hairstylist getting by day to day as best I can.” The coffee maker gurgled as I set down the dessert. “Have a brownie while we wait on the drinks.”

  He reached for one, broke off a bite, and popped it in his mouth. “Hmm. You’re such a good cook. That’s only one of your talents. I’ve never known anyone who understands people as well as you.”

  “All hair dressers worth a flip understand people. Our customers expect it. Mostly, I listen. While I’m working on my customers’ hair they talk about their troubles. While hashing them over aloud, they usually solve them on their own.” The coffee maker cut off, and I served our drinks before plopping down next to Philip.

  “I’d like to hear about Jordan.” A caring tone lined his voice.

  My stomach clenched. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  He scooted his chair closer and hugged me. “I understand Jordan will always have a place in your heart. I’d never want to change that. I want to learn about him because he played such an important part in your life, and I care about you so much. How did you two meet?”

  His words gave me hope the two of us might have a serious relationship, and his touch gave me courage. Was it enough to trust him and leave the details of the distance between us to God? Ever since Mr. Jacobsen brought up the subject of my late husband I’d owed Philip an explanation. I set down my coffee and leaned back in my seat. “It’s hard to say how old we were. Our parents used to visit each other when we were toddlers, so we definitely went way back.” I chuckled at the fond memory and to cover up my nervousness. “In our earliest interaction Jordan pulled my pigtails in kindergarten.” I couldn’t help but smile. “But…he wouldn’t let anyone else pull them.”

  “When did you begin dating?”

  “Near the end of our freshman year in high school he invited me to parties. Our sophomore year we went out alone. From then on, it was Jordan and me. We attended football games, spring festivals, everything high school kids do. A couple of my classmates didn’t have steady boyfriends. They always worried if anyone would ask them to prom, or if they should attend a get-together alone. For as long as I can remember, Jordan was there for me.”

  Talking about Jordan drained me. Should I tell Philip that Jordan’s death tore out my heart, and I hadn’t been the same since? I looked at life through skewed lenses now. Nothing was in focus. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I had loved Jordan with all my being, but I cared about Philip. Where did my feelings for him come from? How could I explain? I didn’t understand myself.

  “I can’t even imagine how hard it’s been for you to have someone who meant so much taken away. It’s clear Jordan loved you very much. If he could be with you he would, but he can’t. I can’t take his place, don’t even want to try, but I do want to be with you a lot. I’m not moving to Rhode Island. If everything works out with Mr. Jacobsen, I’ll file a request to start a Western North Carolina Make More Money Branch and live in Triville.”

  Had I heard him correctly? My breath hitched when I tried to speak. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I love you, and I love it here.”

  I tingled from my head to my toes. “I never imagined you’d want to be in Triville permanently. It must be so different from New York, your home.”

  “It is. I’ll take you there one day.”

  “I’d love that. Uh, to visit.”

  Philip picked up his coffee and sipped. “Just one more question. Then I’ll let you share things about Jordan when and if you want to. I’ll always want to hear them.”

  What would Jordan think about my talking to Philip about him? Words stuck in my throat. “What else did you want to know?”

  “What happened to Jordan?”

  Remembering pierced my heart as though someone stabbed it with a knife. “Jordan ran a branch office of a health insurance company. I don’t think I told you that. He awoke early and worked out at the gym three days a week before he went to his job, but he’d taken the day off. That morning he left to drive two hundred miles to see his mother for her birthday. She had moved to help take care of Jordan’s sister’s children.” I swallowed hard. “Well, you probably didn’t want to know that.”

  “I want to know everything you’d like to tell me.” Philip’s eyes looked caring, concerned.

  “He stopped at the intersection of Main Street and Hill Road. That’s the one that goes to Bob’s Diner. His light turned green, and he pulled forward.”

  Philip nodded.

  “This drunken jerk driving a semi-truck came barreling through the red light, smashed into the driver’s side of Jordan’s car, and killed him.” I thought I would die after the words came out of my mouth. I’d not said that out loud to anyone, not my mother, not my friends, no one. I doubled over and nearly fell forward.

  Philip put me on his lap and enveloped me in his arms. I cried. My mom had visited and helped with Jordan’s arrangements after he was killed. I’d shed tears then, but not too many, because I loved her, and she was recovering from cancer treatments. At Jordan’s funeral I sniffled, but I didn’t want to break down in front of the whole town.

  When I left the grave, Joyce Westmoreland drove me home. Mary Lou Griffith and Loraine Peters accompanied us. They took turns staying with me two nights each. On the seventh day, a Tuesday, I thought it best to go to work rather than sit in the house alone. I’d done that ever since. I prepared my meals, slept as well as I could, and styled my customers’ hair because that was what I should do. Life went on. It had gone on without me. I was cr
ying my heart out on Philip’s shoulder. Of all the people who loved and cared about me, why Philip?

  Then I knew. I didn’t have to be strong for him. He was here for me. I went limp in his arms, the room spinning, weakness sweeping over me. He carried me to the living room sofa and wiped my tears with his thumb. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore, and Philip held me close.

  When I finally stopped, I felt exposed, naked, but it didn’t matter. For the first time since Jordan died, I was free to be me. I knew then I’d always love Jordan. There’d always be a place in my heart he filled no one else could enter, but I had a big heart. When Jordan died, my love hadn’t run out like water from a glass. It had been there all along, waiting for the right person to tap into it.

  Philip brushed my hair back from my face.

  I gazed up at him, knowing my eyes must be swollen and look awful. “Are you seriously thinking of moving to Triville?”

  “Yes. I’ve been researching the surrounding area every night. I have ideas for the Western North Carolina Branch of Make More Money. As soon as I get my hands on Mr. Jacobsen’s funds, I’ll propose my plan to George and ask for permission to set it up.” Philip’s lips turned down. “But I need that money ASAP.”

  24

  Tuesday morning the sun shone in the window creating a stripe on the beige carpet almost as bright as the glow burning in me. I flipped back the comforter with such vigor it fell in the floor.

  Thoughts of attending hair styling demonstrations in shops with mirrored walls and modern art danced in my head as I dressed in a pair of black pants and a white shirt. My customers would have the best hairdos from New York, Hollywood, and Paris. Pride for the fine shop Jordan built and all the classes I’d taken swelled in my chest as I padded down the hall to the kitchen. I brewed coffee, browned toast, and munched breakfast. A sweet strawberry aroma tantalized my nose as I took the last bite.

  Finally, I had time to call Just Right Products. I darted to the shop, sat in the chair at my desk and punched in the number.

  “Just Right Products. Amy speaking.” I flinched at the harshness in the woman’s gruff tone.

  “May I speak with someone in customer service please?”

  “You’ll have to fill out a form.”

  “I need help now.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we can better serve you if you fill out our papers and sign them.”

  Why was she being difficult? Heat crawled up my neck. “My products are all mixed up. Could someone please speak to me about that?”

  “I understand. Give me your address. I’ll mail you the documents for reimbursement and complaints.”

  Had she heard anything I’d said? “If you send me papers to fill out, I have to wait to receive them, answer the questions, and return them. It could take a couple of weeks.” My nerves vibrated, but I attempted to remain calm.

  “I just make certain you get them. I can’t control how long you keep them. Once they’re in the hands of customer service they’re processed in the order in which they arrived.”

  I held out the phone and stared at it. “Please connect me to a customer service representative now.”

  “Ma’am, do you want the forms or not?”

  “Am I conversing with a person?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I told you. I’m Amy. I’m getting another call. Please have a nice day.” She hung up.

  How in the world could a phone conversation make a person tremble inside? Why was this lady, uh, Amy, treating me like this? I dialed the number again.

  “Just Right Products, this is Amy.”

  “I’d like to cancel my account with Just Right Products.”

  “Hold on, ma’am. I’ll connect you to one of our customer service representatives.”

  “Good morning, This is Louise, how may I help you?”

  Finally, someone pleasant. Apparently, I hadn’t sounded angry enough the first time I called, or I hadn’t known the magic words. “Hi, this is Eve Castleberry. I need to cancel my account with Just Right Products.”

  “I’m sorry you aren’t pleased with our wonderful hair products and service. If something has gone wrong, I’m here to straighten it out for you. What’s your problem?” Honey dripped from the phone.

  Perhaps Louise would make things right. “Several months ago I received a permanent with no neutralizer. I called and another of your customer service representatives said it was a slip up at the factory. She told me Just Right would straighten it out...”

  “Yes, ma’am, I apologize. We send out thousands of supplies each day. Every once in a while something’s bound to go wrong. Why don’t I do this? I’ll ship you ten permanents for free. How does that sound?” The tone of her voice told me she thought she’d solved my dilemma.

  If she’d let me finish explaining before she’d jumped into the conversation, she’d have known why that wouldn’t work. “That’s a generous offer, but it’s happened again. This time I received shampoo in my conditioner bottles, all of my dyes were fire engine red, and the permanent kits had no neutralizer.”

  “I understand, ma’am. Give me your account number, name, address, and phone number. I’ll check into this and get back to you. We at Just Right Products want to make things just right for you.” She practically sang the words “Just Right.”

  I was about ready to give up on Just Right Products and buy all my supplies online, but I gave Louise the information she requested because she was pleasant. Still after I hung up, the conversations with Amy and Louise swirled in my head.

  Joyce entered carrying a white and red purse.

  “Good morning. Remember I owe you a free “’do”. What would you like today?” Seeing Joyce only heightened my anger at Just Right Products, but I blocked them out. I had to give her the best hairstyle ever.

  She waved her hand in front of her face. “Pff. I’ll not hold you to that. I was so glad when you called and said you weren’t closing.” Joyce dropped down into the chair in front of the shampoo bowl, and I leaned her back.

  “I’ll give you soft curls around your face.”

  “You’ve been fixing my hair for ten years, and it’s always turned out great. Well, just that one tiny incident, but we won’t mention that.” Joyce’s voice trailed off.

  I poured shampoo into my hand and scrubbed. Seeing her blonde locks brought visions of white suds creeping over the floor rushing to my mind. I cringed as I applied the conditioner for bleached hair from the drugstore. The smooth, creamy liquid did the job without a hitch. Everything was fine. “There. Your hair’s clean and soft.”

  Joyce stood, proceeded to the middle station, and sat down. Then she ran her hand through her locks. “Nice.”

  I parted her tresses in sections, unclipped one, held my razor at an angle and started my trim.

  She directed her gaze at my reflection in the mirror as I repeated the process. “How’s your new guy, Philip, right?”

  No end to it. I didn’t mind so much anymore. If what Philip said about moving to Triville were true, he might be my guy. “He’s fine.” I finished the cut, blew her hair dry, and gave her the hand mirror. She looked so cute, especially compared to her last visit.

  Her face lit up. “This is great! I love it!”

  “I’m so glad. As I said, it’s on the house. A deal’s a deal.”

  She stood, grabbed her purse, and pulled out a twenty. She slapped it down beside a hairbrush and laid her hand on top of it. “Eve, darlin,’ you may keep me from paying full price, but you can’t keep me from giving you a nice tip. You were brought up better than to turn down a gift.”

  I hugged her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Joyce left with a spring in her step.

  I straightened the station, swept up the hair around it, and plopped down at my desk. No one until two-thirty, but the vacancies were understandable. I’d just finished working long hours to give a new “’do” to every customer who hadn’t been able to come because of the repairs and product problems. Th
e thought of relaxing in the house pulled me out the door.

  Philip drove up, waved from the car then sprang out. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good. How about you?”

  “It’s better now. I get to see you.” He gave me a hug and his aftershave tickled my nostrils, a manly aroma with a hint of sweet. Just like him.

  “I called Just Right Products. Someone will contact me.”

  Philip raised his eyebrows. “You need to resolve this now. Let’s buy take-out for lunch then research beauty supply stores while we eat.”

  I didn’t hold out much hope for Just Right Products either. “Thanks. I wanted to ask you about something else too.”

  “Fire away.” He helped me in the passenger’s seat, plunked down on the driver’s side, and headed to the drugstore.

  “A hairstylist show in New York sounds wonderful after we recover Mr. Jacobsen’s money and find me a new supplier. Would you show me around?”

  Philip’s blue eyes lit up as he pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. “Yes, I could take you to the Empire State Building, and a Broadway play too. We’d have a great time.” Philip’s jaw tightened. “We’ll get to the bottom of the product problem this afternoon.”

  The faulty Just Right supplies grated on my nerves. Guilt still plagued me over using drugstore brands, but either I did that or risked creating a hair disaster.

  Philip got out of the car and stuck his head inside. “I’ll run in and pick up sandwiches and sodas.”

  “Thank you. I’d like a pimento cheese on rye. We don’t need anything to drink. I have sweet tea.”

  Philip shut the door and left. If he said he would get to the root of a problem, he would. A few weeks ago I never would have dreamed I’d meet someone like him. I was so lonely, going through the motions of living, forcing one foot in front of the other, and I didn’t even realize it. It was just my life.

  Some days I’d wanted to burst into tears, and I didn’t know why. It was as though sorrow lived deep inside me, then suddenly it erupted for no particular reason. I’d left that dark place filled with nothing but fog and rain and burst into a sunny yard with flowers blooming and birds singing. God was so good. He’d help us get Mr. Jacobsen’s cash back and fix my problems too.