Love Gently Falling

by Melody Carlson

  “Yeah.” Donna nodded with enthusiasm.

  “And Ricky and I will be there to help her while Dad’s at work,” Rita assured the doctor. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I’ll drive her to rehab therapy,” Ricky said. “And I’ll make sure she does her exercises.” He grinned at Donna. “Right, Mom?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded again. “Righ…”

  After Dr. Jane left, the four of them continued to visit a while longer, and then, as Donna’s dinner arrived, Ricky and Rita excused themselves to go home, allowing their parents the rest of the evening to visit in private. Rita had been touched by how tender her dad had been as he engaged with her mother. She’d always known their devotion to each other was genuine—the kind of love story that endures through the ages—but seeing her dad helping her mom like this now, tenderly wiping a bit of soup from her chin or pushing a strand of hair from her eyes…well, sometimes it was hard to hold back the tears.

  “I’m glad Dad went back to work today,” Rita told Ricky as he drove them home. “But I can tell he’s really worn out from this week. I hope it won’t be too much for him—working and visiting Mom at night. I mean, he’s not exactly a spring chicken.”

  “Don’t let Dad hear you say that,” Ricky teased. “He says that today’s sixties is like yesterday’s fifties.”

  “I hope so…but look at Mom. She’s not even sixty yet.”

  “But that was a fluke. Nothing to do with her age.”

  “Still, I can’t imagine what we’d do if both our parents got sick.”

  “Well, at least Dad has weekends off now,” Ricky pointed out. “One of the few perks of his job change.”

  Rita was well aware that the automotive industry had taken its toll on her dad’s job situation. Instead of selling new cars, he now worked in the service department. Not actually repairing vehicles, but managing the desk on weekdays. Although he still got the same benefits package, which was important considering Donna’s recent hospital stay, his salary had been reduced significantly. It was just one more reason that her mom had been unwilling to retire.

  “Mom wants me to go to Hair and Now tomorrow,” Rita told him. “To see how things are going.”

  “She said that?”

  “Well, not in so many words. It was partly from what she drew on the drawing pad and partly from me asking her yes and no questions. But it’s obvious that she’s worried about the business. I told her that I’m happy to fill in for her. I can take her appointments as long as I’m here.”

  “I’ve talked to Charlene every day since Mom got sick,” Ricky said. “Giving her updates, you know. But as far as I can tell, business is pretty slow.”

  “That may be, but I promised Mom I’d go in tomorrow. So that’s what I plan to do. And you don’t need to take me over there. I’ll just use Mom’s car. So you’ll be on your own with Mom at the hospital all day. Do you mind?” Rita had noticed how much Ricky had been limping today. She knew that his leg and back were hurting him.

  “No. Of course, not. I already planned to go.”

  “And don’t overdo it,” she warned. “Use that recliner in Mom’s room to put your feet up. Take a nap if you need to. Or just play your silly video games.”

  “Wow, you’re giving permission?” Ricky chuckled. “And are you going to tell me what I should tell Dr. Wright when he comes looking for you?”

  Rita rolled her eyes, remembering how Dr. Wright had stopped them on their way out this evening. Clearly he had more than just chitchat on his mind. “Tell him whatever you like.”

  “Hmm…what if I tell him that you’re really into him and that you’re just waiting by your phone for him to call?”

  “You better not!” She reached over and playfully punched his arm.

  “Kidding.”

  “Thanks a lot, bro.”

  “Seriously, that dude seems like he’s really into you, Rita.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Hey, some girls would be gaga over the prospects of a doctor boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, my roommate Margot would be impressed,” Rita admitted. “But something about Dr. Wright feels all wrong to me.”

  “Yeah, he seems a little too smooth to me.” Ricky turned into their driveway. “Kinda slimy.”

  “Okay, that’s a bit harsh.” Rita wrapped the woolen scarf that she’d borrowed from her mom’s closet around her neck as she climbed out of the car. Hurrying up to the house, she wondered if she’d ever acclimate to the extreme temperature change.

  “Looks like the church ladies have been here again.” Ricky picked up the cardboard box sitting on a chair by the front door. “Wonder what’s for dinner?”

  “That’s really sweet of them to do that.” Rita unlocked the door. “I wonder how long they’ll keep it up.”

  “We’ve already got enough leftovers to last a couple more nights.” Ricky carried the box into the kitchen. “Maybe we should just freeze this.”

  “If it’s not already frozen from sitting out in the cold.” Rita turned up the thermostat before she started to peel off the top layer of winter clothes. Then, as usual, she went around attending to the household chores—playing mom. If her mother was really coming home on Monday, it might be time to give the whole house a thorough cleaning. It seemed neglected. As they ate dinner in the kitchen, she explained her plan to deep clean. Although Ricky’s enthusiasm was lagging a bit, he agreed to do his part. And by the time they called it a night, they’d actually made a pretty good dent on the place.

  The next morning, Rita was eager to get over to Hair and Now. She hadn’t been to the salon in years and was looking forward to rolling up her sleeves and helping out with some of her mom’s clients. She knew the salon didn’t open until nine, and that Charlene had been doing that, but since she had her mother’s keys, she decided to get there early and open it herself. Her plan was to surprise the girls by picking up a box of Krispy Kremes on her way. This kind of treat would not be appreciated where she worked in Beverly Hills—everyone there was always on some sort of weird diet—but here in the Midwest, well, she didn’t think anyone would mind.

  Besides that, she told herself as she carried the cardboard box through the freezing cold to the back door of Hair and Now, all of this cold winter weather had to burn a few extra calories. She unlocked the door and let herself into the back room, pausing to absorb the familiar smell. The faint aroma of ammonia mixed with her mother’s favorite vanilla deodorizer combined with some pine-scented cleaning solution transported her straight back to childhood. “Welcome home,” she said as she turned on the lights.

  She set the box on the counter between the washer and dryer and, surveying the tidy surroundings with everything neatly in place, she removed her coat, scarf, and gloves, hanging them in the closet by the back door. Nothing in here had changed. She turned the thermostat up a bit then went into the main part of the salon, flipping on the lights and taking a quick inventory of the cutting stations. Everything in here was the same, too.

  The chairs were the same dusty rose color that her mother had chosen to redecorate with when Rita was a little girl, although the vinyl had some stains and tears—signs of years of use. The station tables were the same oak that had been fashionable in the nineties—more worn and out of style perhaps, but still serviceable. The pale gray linoleum on the floor was the same, but definitely showing signs of wear. In fact, it was actually peeling in places. The walls were the same, gray wainscot below with a dusty pink faux marble paint above. Fashionable three decades ago, but so ho-hum now. All in all, Hair and Now looked rather old and sad and shoddy. Especially compared to where Rita worked.

  Just the same, Rita knew that her mom loved this place. She always had. And she probably wouldn’t want to change a thing. At least that’s what she used to say when Rita was a teenager and full of ideas for salon upgrades. Among other things, Rita had wanted Donna to put in a mani-pedi station as well as a spray-on tanning booth, but she wanted to
keep the salon strictly hair. Rita had also wanted her to change the color scheme. But her mom had insisted that the pink shades were feminine and soothing. Just the same, Rita wondered how her clients felt about it now. What if the rundown appearance cast a negative light on their level of service?

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice yelled sharply. “Who’s in there? Identify yourself before I call the police!”

  “Hey, Charlene, it’s just me,” Rita called back. “It’s Rita!”

  “Oh, Rita.” Charlene came in grasping her buxom chest with both hands as if she were having a heart attack. “My word! I thought we were being burglarized.”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t you see Mom’s car out there?”

  “I saw it, but I know Donna’s still in the hospital. So I wondered if someone had stolen it and was breaking in. You know they’ve had some trouble around here. In fact, just last week I was telling Donna we should get a security system installed.”

  “Seriously?” Rita grimaced over the dismal surroundings. “What would a thief possibly want to take from here?”

  Charlene frowned. “Well, you never know.” Now she came over and giving Rita a big bear hug, she pulled her tightly into her well-padded body. “It’s so good to see you, girl. How’s your mother? I saw her on Wednesday, and Ricky gave me updates yesterday. Anything new?”

  “Not really. But she’s making daily progress, and it looks like she can go home on Monday.”

  “That soon?” Charlene unbuttoned her winter coat.

  “She’ll have to continue rehab therapy from home. But Ricky is determined to help with that.”

  “Probably be good for them both. That boy needs to stick with his physical therapy, too.”

  Rita picked at some loose piping on a chair. “This place looks a little rundown, Charlene. I don’t remember it being this bad last time I was here.”

  Charlene shrugged. “Yeah…but that was a while back. And money is tight and upgrades are spendy.”

  “Do clients ever complain?”

  “Why should they complain?” Charlene looked indignant as she smoothed her short auburn hair into place. “They get quality hairdressing at an affordable price. If that means we can’t decorate like they do in Beverly Hills, our patrons shouldn’t complain—should they?” She gave Rita the exact same look she used when Rita was a teenager questioning something in the salon.

  “No, no…of course, not.”

  Charlene’s tone softened as she led the way to the back room. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t mean to bite your head off. But it’s been a bone of contention lately. A couple of our best hairdressers quit last fall…complaining that we’re not keeping up with the times. Irksome.”

  Rita wanted to say she could understand why a good stylist wouldn’t want to work here, but she knew that would offend Charlene—as well as be disrespectful to her mom. And she wondered…really, what was the point? As hard as it was to think about, how likely was it that her mom would return to work anytime soon? Or ever, for that matter?

  “So what are you doing here?” Charlene asked as she hung up her coat.

  “I brought Krispy Kremes,” Rita announced brightly.

  Charlene laughed. “You came out here this early just to bring doughnuts?”

  “Actually, Mom asked me to come. She wants me to help out.”

  “She’s talking now?”

  “Not exactly.” Rita explained how they communicated.

  “How does she want you to help out?” Charlene opened the dryer and removed a load of towels, starting to fold them. “What are you going to do, exactly?”

  Rita reached for a towel, folding it as she considered her answer. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. But Mom seemed pretty determined and urgent. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I’ve been handling her appointments.” Charlene reached for another towel. “It’s not like we’re real busy, Rita.”

  “Why not?” Rita set her folded towel on the small stack.

  “Well, winter is always a slow time of year.”

  “Oh…?”

  “And have you heard about Zinnia’s?” Charlene made a sour face.

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, I’m sure that’s eaten a good portion of our business.”

  “That makes some sense.” Rita considered the salon’s shabby condition again, wondering why Charlene couldn’t see how uninviting it was. It certainly wasn’t the kind of place Rita would feel comfortable getting her hair done in—well, unless she knew the people running it. But even then. A woman liked to feel special and pampered and important when she got her hair done. Hair and Now just couldn’t provide that anymore.

  “I’ve got a lady from the nursing home coming here for a perm at nine thirty,” Charlene told her. “I should probably start getting things set up.” She chuckled. “Well, as soon as I sink my teeth into one of those yummy doughnuts.”

  “I’ll make the coffee.”

  “Good girl.”

  “And then…I want to go over everything, Charlene. I want to study the appointment books and the inventory and the computer programs and everything. I want to see if I can come up with a business plan.”

  “A business plan? Well, wouldn’t that be something.” Charlene took a bite of a doughnut and smiled at Rita. “Maybe you’re just what this place needs, honey.”

  Rita wondered about that. Was she really what Hair and Now needed, or would she simply end up irritating everyone with her ideas and suggestions and criticisms—the same way she used to do?

  Chapter 5

  Rita parked herself at the reception counter with a cup of coffee as she studied the appointment book and some outdated computer programs, making notes of ideas that might improve business. She remembered the days when Hair and Now had employed a part-time receptionist—Zinnia—during the busiest hours of the day. Apparently that practice had gone by the wayside, too. One of Zinnia’s responsibilities had been to keep track of the inventory of beauty products on the nearby shelves. But judging by the faded labels of bottles and tubes, everything on this shelf was probably at least ten years old. It should all be thrown out. Perhaps it could be considered a tax loss.

  Around midmorning, the two part-time hairdressers showed up. Rita hadn’t met them before and cheerfully introduced herself, but they both regarded her with suspicion and a general lack of enthusiasm. Clearly, they were not overjoyed to be employed here.

  “There are Krispy Kreme doughnuts in back,” she told them in a friendly tone.

  “Just what this figure needs.” Jillian patted her thick midsection. “More sugar.”

  “Not that it will stop you,” Yolanda teased. “It never has before.”

  “Just because you can eat anything and stay thin…” Jillian glared at Yolanda.

  Before long, the two of them returned with their doughnuts, loitering around the reception area as if they were curious about the new interloper. “So you’re the hairdresser to the stars,” Yolanda said to Rita. “Donna talks about you all the time.”

  “Most of my clients aren’t celebrities,” Rita clarified. “But, yes, I do work in Beverly Hills.”

  “How’s that compare to here?” Jillian asked as she chewed a bite of doughnut.

  “Naturally, it’s different.” Rita glanced around the lackluster salon and sighed. “I have to admit that I was a little surprised at how rundown Hair and Now has gotten.”

  Well, that comment opened the floodgates, and suddenly Jillian and Yolanda started unloading long laundry lists of everything that was wrong with this salon. Fortunately, their appointments—a pair of elderly women—showed up, and they had to get to work. But Rita made notes of some of their more legitimate complaints. And when they weren’t busy with customers, she invited them to list things they’d like to see changed and give them to her. She doubted they’d come up with anything she hadn’t already observed, but she knew it would make them feel validated. Plus it would strengthen her case—which she planned to present to her
mother.

  As she finished dumping the dated beauty products, after listing their retail values for tax purposes, she realized it was past one and she was hungry. She told the other women she was going out for lunch and even offered to pick them up something, but with no takers, she got her coat and hurried out the front door. To her surprise, instead of the courtyard she remembered, she found some sort of construction was in process. Men and noisy tools and dust seemed to be everywhere. She knew that the lower level of the mall was considered the less valuable real estate, but with all this mess going on, it felt like the slums. She rode the escalator up and was immediately struck by how different the atmosphere was on the upper levels. She could still hear a little construction noise, but the piped music helped to camouflage it a little. And the shops up here looked light and bright and shiny and new. Many of them had inviting Valentine’s Day displays in their windows. And the general feeling was of prosperity and success. So different than down below.

  Rita went into Noah’s Ark, which was located directly above Hair and Now. She hadn’t been in here in years, but remembered how it had been a fun hangout when she was a teen. To her surprise, the original owner, Noah Goldstein, was standing behind the counter. “You’re still here,” she said happily.

  “You bet.” He grinned at her. “Good to see you, Rita. I heard about your mom. How’s she doing?”

  Rita gave him the update, then, as a couple more customers got into line, she placed an order for soup and bread and took a seat over by the back wall. She smiled to see the old Noah’s ark mural still there, complete with the colorful rainbow above it. Her friends used to say, “meet you under the rainbow,” when they were headed here. And she used to jokingly tell her mom that Hair and Now was located beneath the rainbow, saying that it was like the pot of gold. It had seemed true then, when business was good. Not so much now.

  As Rita ate her beef and barley soup, she wondered what was to become of her parents. She knew that Ricky’s injury had depleted what little savings they had, and that her dad’s decreased salary wasn’t sufficient to support them without the additional income from the salon. She also knew that since the business wasn’t thriving and her mom leased her space, there was nothing to be gained from selling Hair and Now. If only there was a way to fix it up. Rita considered her own savings, which she would gladly donate to help her parents, but she knew it wasn’t enough to make a real difference. What Hair and Now needed most was a miracle. Maybe she should buy a lottery ticket.