by Karen White
Closing her eyes, she let Bitsy massage her temples. “I think giving you a few layered bangs would really soften your face, Maddie. You and your aunt Cassie have got the same head, and I can tell that it would really look precious.”
Cassie spoke, her Southern accent peeking out of certain words, determined to ignore the elocution lessons she had taken during her fifteen years in New York. “I agree, Maddie. Not that I don’t think you’re beautiful no matter what way your hair is done, but I do think bangs would be flattering.”
Maddie glanced over at her aunt, lying back to have her head shampooed, her enormous pregnant belly making her look like a blowfish stranded on the beach. Not that she’d ever tell her that, of course. Aunt Cassie was already making such a big deal about her ankles being the same size as her thighs that she knew better than even to make a joke about it.
She closed her eyes again as Bitsy used cool water to rinse out the conditioner. “This is the way Mama always did my hair. I like it the way it is.”
Aunt Cassie started to say something but was interrupted by Aunt Lucinda. “Hey, Suzanne. We were wondering where you’d gone off to.”
Bitsy sat Maddie up to towel-dry her hair. “Hey, Miz Paris. Aunt Lu thought you’d run off ’cause you were scared we’d cut off all your hair.”
Suzanne turned up half of her mouth in that odd way she had. Almost as if she was afraid to tell the world she thought something was funny. “I thought about it, but I was actually finishing up checking in a shipment that just arrived at the store. Didn’t want to leave thongs and garters all over the place.” She moved her backpack off her shoulder to hang in her hand. “Then the Sedgewick sisters stopped in.” She blew out a big breath. “I had to explain a few things to them. And let’s just say that I was shocked to see what they bought. I haven’t quite yet recovered.”
Aunt Lucinda yelped out loud. “I can’t believe those two. They haven’t been in my shop since I opened it. They’re obviously on a spy mission for the Ladies’ Bridge Club.” She sat up straight in her chair, hair dripping. “What did they buy?”
Suzanne slid a glance at Maddie. “I’ll tell you later.”
Maddie bristled. “I’m seventeen. I wish y’all would quit treating me like a kid.”
Her little sister Knoxie, her bright red hair a tangled mess down her back, hobbled into the washing room, cotton balls stuck between each pink-tipped toe. “Look what Ovella did for me while I was waiting!”
Suzanne gave a real smile to Knoxie. “They look great.” She slipped her feet from her flip-flops and spread her toes. “Can’t say I’ve ever had my toenails painted before. Think they’d look good in that color?”
“Yep. It’s pink. All girls look good in pink. Except for Maddie.” With a dismissive look at her oldest sister, Knoxie hobbled off toward Lucinda.
Maddie watched as her aunt Cassie was hoisted to a sitting position. She tried not to think about what her aunt and Dr. Parker had to have done to get her in that situation. It was bad enough imagining her own parents doing it enough to make six children.
Holding out her hand, Cassie stepped toward Suzanne. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much from Lucinda and Maddie that I feel I already know you. I’m Cassie Parker, Sam’s wife.”
Suzanne paused, then, almost reluctantly, took Cassie’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Cassie peered into the other woman’s face. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
Pushing her hair behind an ear, Suzanne shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve just got one of those faces that looks like a million other people.”
Aunt Cassie continued to study Suzanne’s face, her expression not completely friendly. “Maybe so. But I could swear that I’ve met you somewhere. I do some traveling for my job, and I’m thinking it could have been from that. Where are you from?”
“All over.” Abruptly, Suzanne turned to Ovella. “You look kind of busy right now. Maybe I should come back later. . . .”
“Not at all. We’re full staff on account of Founder’s Day, so everybody can get taken care of. Why don’t you sit down right where Cassie was, and I’ll send Darlene in to shampoo you in just a second?”
Maddie watched Suzanne, who seemed to be more nervous than a worm on a hook. Maddie hadn’t known her for long, but she had already learned that Suzanne was uncomfortable around a lot of people. Clutching the towel on top of her head, she moved toward Suzanne to say something, then stopped.
Reaching out, Maddie lifted a gold heart dangling from a chain around Suzanne’s neck. She’d never noticed it before. “Aunt Cassie, look. It’s just like yours.”
Cassie came closer, peering at the small charm. “It’s identical, isn’t it?” Reaching below her beauty salon cape, she pulled out a longer chain, with nine gold hearts clinging to the rope of chain. A tiny key hung in the center. She held them up to Suzanne. “Maddie’s mom—my sister—gave me these.”
Knoxie, who up to that moment had been stomping around like Frankenstein’s monster to show off her painted toenails, pushed between her aunt and Suzanne and blurted out, “My daddy dumped Aunt Cassie to marry my mama. But she gave her all those hearts anyway.”
Looking down at her little sister, Maddie suddenly realized where the term “weakest link” came from. Grabbing her firmly by the hand, Maddie led her away from the washroom. “Let’s go see if Ovella can find somebody to sew your lips shut.”
While Knoxie hollered like a stuck pig, Maddie yanked her out of the room. After depositing her little sister in the capable hands of one of the stylists who promised she was an expert at French braids, Maddie rushed back to Cassie and Suzanne. The way they faced each other reminded her of the old Western movies her daddy liked to watch, the two women like gunslingers eyeing each other as if they were trying to see who was faster on the trigger.
Cassie smiled, her eyes tilting upward just like Maddie’s. “I guess you can always leave it up to children to fill in the holes of family history for strangers.”
Suzanne squirmed just the tiniest bit, as if she were about to be tested on homework she hadn’t done. “I’ve never had that problem.”
“I guess not. Joe said you don’t like children.”
Suzanne’s breath left her in a little puff of air. “I never said that—really. It’s just that I haven’t had a lot of experience being around them, that’s all.”
Cassie reached over to flip the heart on Suzanne’s necklace to the other side. “A life without rain is like the sun without shade.” She flipped it over again and read the small inscription at the bottom. “R. Michael Jewelers. Walton.” Gently, she laid it back on Suzanne’s shirt. “Where did you get this?”
Suzanne touched the necklace with gentle fingers, the way Maddie touched her mama’s hairbrush and perfume bottles when nobody was looking. It took Suzanne a moment to speak. “My mother gave it to me. I don’t know where she got it.”
Cassie tilted her head. “Randy Michael is a jeweler here in Walton. His shop is on Jackson, right behind the courthouse square. Most people don’t know it’s there unless you’re looking for it. You might want to ask him if he remembers seeing this before. He’s got a memory like an elephant.”
“Yeah, I’ll definitely go see him. Thanks.” She reached up and tucked the charm out of sight, and although Maddie was no genius it was pretty clear that Suzanne had no intention of going to see Mr. Michael.
Maddie’s towel began to slide from her head, so she held still so it wouldn’t fall and call attention to the fact that her hair wasn’t getting dried and styled. She wasn’t ready to go—not now when Aunt Cassie was starting to look like a cat waiting outside a mouse hole.
“Joe said you needed something to wear tonight. He said we were about the same size, so I brought a few dresses and shoes. I figured they could go out dancing tonight and have a good time even if I can’t.” Aunt Cassie grinned, rubbing her enormous belly. “They’re in my car if you want to take a look.”
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p; “Thanks—that’s very generous. And I will pay you back. But it’s not a date. We’re just chaperoning Maddie.”
Maddie’s head whipped around, her towel sliding to the floor. “What?”
Suzanne looked embarrassed but didn’t have to say anything because Bitsy appeared to take Maddie and Cassie into the styling room. As Aunt Cassie followed, she called back, “It’s none of my business, so don’t feel you need to explain. Come find me when you’re all done and we’ll go out to my car.”
Maddie allowed her aunt to go first, and settled herself in a chair in between the two rooms so she could hear both conversations, then placed a Seventeen magazine in her lap to use as a prop while she eavesdropped. Her mama had taught her that listening to other people’s conversations was rude, but Maddie had long since found out that it was the only way to learn anything interesting.
A petite woman of about forty with dark, curly hair and wearing a large flowered smock with the words “Ask me about scrapbooking!” appeared. With a heavy Southern accent, she introduced herself as Darlene Narpone and led Suzanne to a sink. Maddie only vaguely knew Darlene since the older woman didn’t have any kids at the high school. All Maddie knew was that some sort of tragedy in Darlene’s hometown in Alabama had been the reason she’d come to Walton to wash hair and start over. At least that’s what Maddie had overheard the Sedgewick twins discussing at the produce counter in the Piggly Wiggly.
“You’re new in town, aren’t you?” Darlene asked as she began shampooing Suzanne’s hair.
Suzanne nodded as if she’d already been asked that same question a million times.
“I hear you’re going to the dance tonight with Joe Warner. Have you got something pretty to wear? Y’all make a cute couple.”
Suzanne’s eyes snapped wide, her mouth open as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t because Darlene was busy spraying water and shampoo all over her face.
Darlene didn’t seem to notice and continued talking. “My Albert proposed to me at a Founder’s Day Dance in our own hometown. The band was playing that song ‘There’s a Tear in My Beer’ when he just got down on his knee in the middle of the dance floor and asked me to marry him. It was so romantic.”
Spitting water off her lips, Suzanne asked, “Will you and your husband be there tonight?”
Darlene shook her head as she flipped off the spray and began to squeeze-dry Suzanne’s hair with a towel. “Oh no. We never got married.” With a small hitch in her voice, she continued. “My Albert was just standing on a street corner, minding his own business, when a truck full of them Porta Potties took the turn too fast and one fell out. Crushed him like a bug. Couldn’t even have an open casket at the funeral.” She sighed. “One of those freak accidents, I guess.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” Suzanne tightened the towel over her shoulders, looking as though she didn’t know what to say. Maddie was sure her own mama had taught her about a dozen things to say when people told you bad news, but wasn’t sure any of them would have been appropriate for a man who’d been squashed to death by a Porta Potti.
Darlene stood back and proudly held out her apron. “It’s a good thing I have my picture albums to remind me of him and all the happy times.”
With an earnest expression on her face, Darlene pumped the lever with her foot to lower the chair. She clucked her tongue as she tilted her head from side to side and examined Suzanne’s hair. “You really need color. I guess I should have asked you before I washed your hair.”
Maddie turned her head toward the styling room and saw Aunt Cassie with her head bent forward as Bitsy trimmed the back, but her gaze was focused on the woman in the other room. Her eyes were narrowed as if she was thinking really hard, as if she was trying to remember where she’d seen Suzanne before.
Suzanne’s eyes met Cassie’s in the mirror for a quick moment before she glanced away. Looking up at Darlene, she said, “I do need color. Go ahead and dry it first if you need to, but I want more red. And I want to go shorter—shoulder-length and with bangs.”
Darlene’s face brightened. “Sounds like a plan.” She led Suzanne to a chair on the far end of the row where Cassie was getting her hair dried and reached for the blow-dryer. “Has Joe told you about Maddie’s album?”
Maddie, whose attention had begun to drift to the magazine and an article about Justin Bieber, looked up again at the mention of her name.
Suzanne held up her hands, her palms facing out. “Look, Joe and I aren’t in a relationship where we would discuss anything but the weather. I’m just going with him tonight to help him chaperone.”
As if Suzanne hadn’t said anything, Darlene continued. “I was helping Harriet with it—it was going to be Maddie’s graduation present. It’s pictures from when Maddie was a baby up until three years ago. Harriet was keeping it at my house so Maddie wouldn’t find it. You know how girls are.” She leaned down and shoved the plug into an outlet at the base of the chair. Straightening, she met Suzanne’s eyes in the mirror. “Joe knows it’s there but hasn’t asked for it. Thought you’d want to know, since Maddie will be graduating in May and all.”
Before Suzanne could reply, Darlene turned on the blow-dryer, blasting away Suzanne’s words. Maddie’s gaze froze on the glossy photo of the pop star phenom, remembering her mother gathering up Maddie’s baby photos but not telling Maddie why. As if Maddie couldn’t figure it out herself. As if a stupid album would somehow make her mother’s absence easier to take. She’d forgotten about it, and saw no use in remembering it now.
Maddie watched as Suzanne sighed, then sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. Her fingers gripped the arms of the chair as tightly as if they were being held in place by kudzu vines that slowly grabbed hold of you without any intention of ever letting go.
Joe’s hand shook as he knotted his tie, feeling like a teenager on his first date. It’s not a date, he reminded himself. He stood back from the mirror and picked his suit jacket off the bed. His hand hovered over the cologne bottle on his dresser, the cologne Maddie had given him for Father’s Day. He moved his hand back. “It’s not a date,” he said out loud as he stepped away from the dresser and left the room.
The children had all gone to Cassie’s for the evening. All but Maddie. Rob Campbell had already come to pick her up—in his mother’s Lincoln, no less. Trying to impress Maddie’s father, no doubt. But Joe couldn’t help noticing the roomy backseat of the Lincoln. Nothing good ever came from backseats. Except for maybe Joey, his third child.
He paused on the top step. How was he ever going to survive four daughters? That drowning feeling came over him again—the missing, the empty ache. He wasn’t supposed to be doing this all alone. That had never been part of the plan. Harriet should have been here to help Maddie pin on her corsage and offer advice instead of the stilted warnings and botched pinning he had accomplished. And then he and Harriet would have lain in bed that night, talking as they always did about their day. They would have smiled over Maddie’s embarrassment and Rob’s awkwardness, and the way Rob had gently touched Maddie’s elbow as he’d escorted her down the steps, away from them, toward his car.
He sat down on the top stair, feeling suddenly tired. With his head in his hands, he thought of Harriet. It wasn’t just the role of wife and mother that he missed. It was her and her way with things. It was how she could hide her will of steel under five feet three of soft curves and sweetness. It was how she could make everything all right in his world with the touch of her hand. Lifting his head, he listened to the silence.
He didn’t believe in ghosts, or in living, breathing houses. But now, even with everything silent in the absence of children, he could hear a pulse. Not a frightening feeling but one more reassuring, like the gentle hum of the clothes dryer, calling to mind familiarity, routine, and home.
Standing, he made his way down the rest of the stairs. As he picked his keys off the hall table, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He almost expected to see Harriet standi
ng next to him, straightening his tie or picking lint from his jacket. Instead, he faced the mirror alone, the fading sun casting shadows on the opposite wall.
With quick steps, he crossed the foyer and left the house, quieting the insistent hum as he slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 7
Joe turned the corner and slid up to the curb in front of the Ladue house. He shut off the ignition but sat there, fidgeting with his tie, feeling stupid. With a burst of determination, he pushed open the door and got out.
Striding up to the front door, he was surprised when it was flung open before he’d had a chance to knock.
“I’m ready,” she said, brushing past him and locking the door before placing the key in an impossibly small purse. A small red purse. One that matched the small red dress that she wore. He stood there for a moment, speechless, wondering absently if this was the way people felt when Publishers Clearing House appeared with a check.
As if of their own accord, his eyes slid down the length of her body, taking in the short red dress with spaghetti straps, the long legs, and those damned flip-flops. His gaze zoomed back up to her neck and the small gold charm she wore. He tried not to notice the way it dipped into her cleavage.
She dangled a pair of red high heels from the fingers of her right hand. “I’ve got these, but I didn’t want to put them on until I knew whether or not we were going to walk there.”
Somehow he found his voice. “I, um, have the truck,” he said, motioning toward the large green SUV at the curb. He recalled that the third seat had been removed to make room for Lucinda’s fall plantings, and he felt his cheeks warm. What is wrong with me? I’m thinking with the brain of a teenage boy. But there was something about that dress, and her, that made him think of large backseats and what two people could accomplish in one.
