“Do you have time?”
She glanced at her watch. “Well, we close at seven. But I could probably finish you up by then.”
“Great.” He removed his parka. And Rita, feeling a bit awkward, led him over to the shampoo station. Something about this felt slightly off, but what could she do?
“I’ll warn you, men’s cuts are not my specialty,” she said as she vigorously scrubbed his head.
“I trust you.”
Before long, he was seated at her mom’s cutting station, and she was combing and snipping and eventually pulling out the clippers to clean up the collar line. Finally, she brushed the hair away from his neck, whipped off the cape, and proclaimed, “Voilà!”
He looked in the mirror and smiled. “Very nice. Thank you.”
She was just removing a missed clipping of hair from his shoulder when she heard the door opening again. “We’re closed,” she called out as she turned around. But there, to her stunned surprise, was Johnny. Dressed in his red and white janitor jacket and blue jeans, he looked as if he was here to clean up. But why hadn’t he come in through the back door?
“Sorry to intrude.” His brow creased as he stood in the reception area. “But I’m not here for a haircut.”
“Sorry. Come on in, Johnny.” She made a nervous smile. “I just finished up with Dr. Wright and I was about to close shop.”
“Not until I settle up with you.” Dr. Wright pulled out his wallet. “And not until you stop calling me Dr. Wright, Rita. I have a first name, you know.” He handed her his credit card.
“I see that you do.” She read his name from the card as if she didn’t already know it. “Winston D. Wright.” As she went to the register she casually introduced the two men, explaining to Johnny that Winston had been one of her mom’s physicians at Jackson Park. “But Mom went home today,” she told Johnny. “And Dr. Wright—I mean Winston—came in for a haircut.” Feeling a bit silly for overexplaining, she handed Winston his receipt. She waited for him to sign and tried not to frown at what seemed a slightly miserly tip, considering how she’d stayed open late for him. But she simply thanked him and walked him to the door.
“I wanted to ask you—”
“Closing time,” she cheerfully interrupted him, jingling her keys as she handed him his jacket and opened the door. “Sorry to throw you out, but rules are rules.”
Winston frowned, jerking his thumb to where Johnny was still leaning against the reception desk. “What about him?”
“Oh, Johnny?” She shrugged. “He’s with our cleaning service. Jolly Janitors.”
“Jolly Janitors?” Winston chuckled. “Do they tell jokes while they mop? Or whistle while they work?”
“Sometimes we do,” Johnny responded good-naturedly.
“See you around, Winston.” Rita gently put her hand on his shoulder, guiding the slightly bewildered man out the door, before she closed and locked it.
“Didn’t mean to scare the good doctor away,” Johnny said.
Rita went to the cutting station and picking up the broom began to sweep the hair from the floor. “You didn’t scare him away. It was time for him to go.”
He took the broom from her. “Why not let Jolly Janitors sweep your troubles away.” And now he started to whistle as he swept.
She couldn’t help but laugh as she sat down at the cutting station across from him. “Why didn’t you use the back door?” she asked. “I mean, if you’re here to clean, although it seems a little early.”
“I’m not here to clean.” He swept the hair into the dustbin and frowned down at it. “Your doctor friend has some gray hairs.”
She chuckled. “I noticed.”
He dumped the hair into the trash then turned to look at her. “Is it a serious relationship?”
“Me and Dr. Wright?” She gave him a funny look.
“Don’t you mean Winston?”
“Yes…Winston. And, no, it is not a serious relationship. I couldn’t have been more surprised when he showed up just now.”
“But you gave him a haircut?”
She stood and shrugged. “This is a hair salon, Johnny. It’s what we do.”
“But it was closing time.”
“Not quite.” She cleaned the scissors and dropped the comb into the sterile solution. “And I can’t really afford to turn away business.” She tipped her head to one side. “So, if you’re not here to clean, why are you here?”
“I stopped by to let you know that Mason and Drew want to help with your renovations. I just need to let them know when exactly.”
She told him her plans and how she’d extended her visit a week. “But I’d really like to get it totally wrapped up by next Tuesday. That will give us a couple of days to get up to speed. And I’m getting postcards to send out to our list of clientele, inviting them to stop by for a sneak peek and goodies on Friday afternoon. Plus, I’ve bought ad space, announcing the grand reopening on Valentine’s Day weekend.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” He looked around the salon. “And assuming you’re not changing anything as far as electric and plumbing goes, it should be doable.”
“Yes, the cutting stations and shampoo area will all be in the same places.”
“I was curious as to whether you’ve got the tools you’ll need. You know, things like drills and hammers and paintbrushes and ladders and drop cloths. That can all add up when you’re trying to stay on budget.”
“My dad has a few things I can probably use, but he’s not really much of a tool guy. I mean, besides the automotive stuff. He’s not a real handyman.”
“That’s the other reason I stopped by. I thought you might want to borrow a few things.”
“Really? You’ve got those kinds of tools? That you can lend me?”
He nodded. “And I have the evening off if you’d like to go pick some things out. Then I can bring them over here on Friday night—to be sure that it’s all ready for your team on Saturday.”
“That’d be fabulous.”
“How about if I drive around back while you lock up?”
Rita rushed around turning off lights and throwing wet towels from the washer into the dryer, and even taking time to retouch her hair and makeup. She was just pulling on her coat when Johnny came in. “Ready to rock and roll?” he asked as he led her out to his pickup.
“This is so generous of you,” she said as he opened the door, letting her in.
“Do you mind if we pick up some takeout food?” he asked as he got behind the wheel. “I haven’t eaten since noon.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“I’m craving a cheeseburger and shake, but I’m guessing you might be one of those California cuisine girls, so we—”
“I would adore a cheeseburger and shake,” she confessed.
“I know just the place.”
Within minutes, loaded down with their to-go dinner, Johnny was unlocking the door to what appeared to be some kind of warehouse. “Where are we?” she asked curiously as he led them in, flipping on lights.
“Jolly Janitors,” he said.
“Oh…” She looked around the large, organized space. “Nice.”
“We can eat in the office.” He led her over to a room with windows, unlocking the door and turning on lights. “Warmer in here.”
“They give you keys to the office?” She set the bag containing their shakes on what looked like a conference table.
He chuckled as he opened a nearby cabinet, extracting a couple of paper plates and setting them across from each other on the table. “Take off your coat and make yourself at home.”
“You won’t get in trouble for doing this?” She set the shakes by the paper plates.
“Nah. It’s okay.” He hung his red and white janitor jacket over the back of chair and flipped on a switch that instantly produced music—not too loud, but nice.
“You’re sure?” She looked nervously around, taking in the sleek dark wood cabinets, the big, tidy desk with its comfy looking leather chai
r. What if Johnny’s boss walked in on them right now?
“No problem.” He handed her a burger and bag of fries.
“This is an attractive office.” She cautiously removed her coat and sat down. “Comfy chair, too.” She studied him carefully. “You’re sure this is okay, Johnny? I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”
“It’s fine. Really.” He picked up his burger. “Trust me.”
After one of the most delicious fast-food meals she could remember, she insisted on cleaning up, trying to leave everything as spotless as they’d found it. Johnny watched with what seemed like amusement. Maybe he wasn’t used to anyone cleaning up after him. And then he turned off the lights and locked the door. “Did you bring a list of what you need?”
“To be honest, I probably don’t really know what I need.”
He chuckled. “Well, let me offer my assistance.” He led her over to where painting supplies were stored and started to gather things.
“But can you do this?” she said with concern, “I mean, just borrow these things?”
“Don’t forget, you’re a Jolly Janitor account.”
“Oh…right.” Still she felt uneasy.
After he’d assembled what seemed a very generous pile of tools and things, he led her to another section. “Now I’m not sure what you have in mind for a floor, but we just happen to have a bunch of these tiles.” He opened some boxes, pulling out some squares of black and white. “I think there’s enough to do a checkerboard, but I’m not sure you’d like—”
“I love that,” she exclaimed. “That’s what Mom originally had in the salon. Have you ever looked at the photos in back?”
He shook his head. “Nope. But you can have these if you want.”
“Have them?”
“Sure. They’re just taking up space and—”
“What is going on here, Johnny?” She pressed her lips together. “I mean, I realize you’re a Jolly Janitor employee and Hair and Now is a client. But you can’t go around giving their stuff away just like—”
“I can if I want.” He reached over to pick up what looked like a can of paint, setting it next to the tile boxes. “You’ll need this too, as well as some—”
“Johnny Hollister!” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I will not let you do this.”
“Why not?” He grinned. “You won’t find a better deal anywhere.”
“This is like stealing,” she said hotly. “And I’m shocked that you’d even—”
“You really don’t know, do you?” He peered curiously at her.
“Know what?”
He waved his hand. “Who owns this business?”
“Huh?”
“I know your mom can’t speak. But Ricky didn’t tell you? Or Marley?”
“Tell me what?”
“This is my company.”
“You own Jolly Janitors?” Rita almost felt like she needed to sit down. “Really?”
“It was originally my grandpa’s business,” he explained as he picked up a few other things, setting them down by the boxes of tile. “My dad had no interest in it. He prefers wearing an expensive suit and handling other people’s money. But I’d worked for Grandpa, to put myself through college.” He went over to get a cart, setting some things on it. “By the time I graduated, Grandpa was getting ready to retire. I had my fancy business degree, so he invited me to step in. After a year or so, he offered to let me take over in exchange for a profit-sharing plan that will see him through his golden years. The business has grown more than either of us expected in these last six years. We’re both pretty pleased.”
“Wow.” Rita slowly shook her head. “And here I was worried that the police were about to show up and drag us both off to jail.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “So you really thought I was just an employee? That I was actually stealing this stuff?”
She nodded sheepishly. “It didn’t seem like you.”
“And you were okay with that?”
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to lie. “To be honest, it bothered me a lot.”
“Did it bother you that I was just a janitor?”
“I’ll admit that I questioned it at first.”
He frowned. “You think janitors are second rate?”
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not sure what I thought exactly. Maybe it was that you were too smart to just be cleaning other people’s businesses. You know?”
His frown melted some. “Anyway, it’s getting late. Let’s get all this stuff to that pallet over there and I’ll label that it’s taken.”
As they quietly worked together, Rita felt silly, and more than just a little embarrassed, for a number of reasons. Worse than that, she felt like a hypocrite and a phony. Discovering that Johnny was not merely a janitor, but the owner of a thriving custodial business, had probably elevated her interest in him. Or maybe it had simply put her more at ease. And even if that was honest, it also seemed wrong. Not to mention shallow. What was wrong with her?
Chapter 10
Johnny had encouraged Rita to take some tile samples to lay out on the floor with the lime green chairs, just to be sure that was what she really wanted. “I don’t want to talk you into something just because the price is right,” he had joked last night.
On Tuesday morning, she was eager to get to the salon and see if the free tiles really did work. So, before Charlene showed up, she laid out eight squares beside a green chair and decided that it all looked pretty good. Now if only she could get the wall paint right. She’d printed out a number of ideas from the Internet and had narrowed it down to three options, but she just wasn’t sure. What she needed was a second opinion. And no one had a better artistic eye than Marley.
“To be honest, I’m not sure about any of these,” Marley told Rita as they stood in the salon, where only one customer was getting her hair shampooed by Jillian. Marley pointed out the reasons she questioned each photo then offered another idea. “It seems like a lot of work to rip off that wainscot,” she said, “especially when you’re so crunched for time. And what if the drywall comes off with it? Then you’d really be in trouble.”
“That’s true.”
“You say you’re going to paint those ugly oak cabinets white?”
“To save money.”
Marley twisted her mouth to one side. “White is going to show up the wood grain, which is okay if you’re going for shabby chic, but that doesn’t seem like what you want.”
“No, it’s not. I’m just trying to save money. I want a somewhat contemporary look—in a retro sort of way.”
“Why not paint them black and paint the wainscot to match? Kind of like a wide black stripe going all around. It will really set off those floors and the chairs.”
“You don’t think that’ll be too dark?”
Marley went over to a cabinet, running her hand over the worn surface. “You could top these with something lighter. My brother Gordon’s in the quartz countertop business. He might be able to help you.”
“Ooh, quartz would be cool.”
“And you have to replace those ugly brass drawer pulls.” Marley wrote down Gordon’s number then pointed at the walls. “And if I were you, I’d paint the walls in a paler tone of the chair color. Kind of a margarita shade.”
“Margarita.” Rita laughed. “Like my name? Or like the drink?”
“Both.”
“Will you help me pick out the color?”
“Absolutely. You gather up some paint samples and I’ll help you decide.” Marley pointed up toward the ceiling. “And I’d paint a wide stripe up there—about twelve to eighteen inches I think—in a darker shade of green. Maybe more like the chair color or something in between.”
Rita nodded. “I can see that.”
“And then I’d paint words right on top of that stripe.”
“Words?” Rita frowned.
“Inspiring words,” Marley continued. “Something your customers could look
up at and feel encouraged by. You know?”
“Maybe…” Rita was trying to imagine the three ladies from the retirement home looking up at words and feeling inspired.
“You can get stencils for letters and signs like that online,” Marley explained. “I had one made for my kitchen a couple years ago. An excerpt from the scripture about speaking the truth in love. Rex has probably painted over it by now.” She laughed.
Rita made a sympathetic frown.
“This is the name of the company, if you’re interested.” Marley wrote it down. “Naturally, you’ll want to pick a modern style of lettering, something fun that jibes with this whole contemporary thing you’ve got going on.”
“Okay…” Rita looked back at the wall and got an idea. “What about inspiring verbs? Something that suggests action, you know? Like believe or create or love or embrace?”
“That would be awesome.” Marley nodded. “I can just see it. And if you decide to do that, I’m happy to help with the stenciling. It’s actually kind of fun.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
“You better get right on it then. Make your word list and make sure the company can get the stencils back to you on time. I remember putting a rush order on mine because I was trying to finish up my kitchen in time for book club.”
“I’ll do it today.”
“And get a lot of paint samples for the lime green shades,” Marley told her. “Greens can be tricky.” Marley went over to a mirror above the cabinet. “What do you plan to do with these mirrors?”
“Well, I’m not a fan of those heavy oak frames, but we obviously need a mirror at each station, and I’d like to avoid the cost of replacing them. I thought maybe I could just paint the frames. Should they be black too?”
“I have an idea.” Marley explained how Rita could get small black and white ceramic tiles and make a checkerboard frame that was similar to the floor. “I’ll bet you could adhere the tiles directly to these frames since they’re pretty flat and fairly wide.”
“That sounds perfect.” Rita patted Marley on the back. “I knew I called in the right person.”
“I’m glad you did. I could do this kind of thing all day. I love design!”
Love Gently Falling Page 9
