Chapter 9.

9.

The night before I left for New Hampshire, I went over to Supercuts so Vicky could give me a trim. I kept my hair pretty short, so there was never much to cut, but Vicky worked carefully and methodically so that we always had plenty of time to chat.

She and I were about the same age, but I swear this woman didn’t look a day over forty. She had long dark hair, warm brown eyes, and a smile that lit up the salon. Vicky always kept a library book in her workstation and she loved to discuss whatever she was reading. Her favorites were the historical romances, so she could tell you all about the Tudors and the Vikings and Queen Cleopatra. Most of these books were like eight hundred pages, but every time I saw her she always had a new one.

Vicky had been married twice and divorced twice, and her workstation mirror was decorated with snapshots of two smiling children. Todd, the boy, was her pride and joy. He lived in Brooklyn with his husband and wrote for the Wall Street Journal . Janet, the daughter, was the heartbreaker. Janet died a couple of years ago from a drug overdose. But she was still up on the mirror with her brother, posing for Halloween and prom night and Christmas morning, because she was a big part of Vicky’s life and always would be.

Over the past few months, I’d told Vicky all about my estrangement from Maggie and our surprise reconciliation and the upcoming wedding. She was a really good listener. She didn’t judge other people and she always asked smart, thoughtful questions. And to be honest, I’d briefly considered inviting Vicky to the wedding—until I reminded myself that I’d never seen her outside the salon, so the idea felt a little ridiculous.

That night, she spent an extra-long time on my hair, because she knew I was leaving for New Hampshire in the morning and she said she wanted me to look perfect. After she finished with the cut, she went over to the steamer to get a hot towel and pressed it to the back of my neck, and I just about melted. Vicky was supposed to charge me an extra dollar for this service but she never, ever did, and sometimes I wondered if this meant anything.

She smiled at my reflection in the mirror. “You look good, Frank. You’re going to have a great time at this wedding, and I am so, so happy for you.”

I hated to get out of the chair, but I knew she had customers waiting, so I followed her to the register to settle the bill. The normal rate was eighteen and I tried to give her my usual twenty-five, but she waved it off. “On the house.”

“Oh, come on—”

“It’s a wedding gift. Congratulations.”

I put the bills on the counter and Vicky just pushed them back into my hand. This was such an incredibly sweet thing for her to do. I thanked her again and went outside to the strip mall parking lot. Next door was a Chipotle restaurant and there were two teenaged skateboarders, girls in knit hats and flannel shirts, doing kickflips off the curb. I watched them for a minute, thinking, then walked back inside.

Vicky’s next customer was already in her chair—a little red-haired boy, seven or eight years old, propped up on a booster seat and covered by a cape of UFOs and flying saucers. Vicky saw me walking up in her mirror and turned in surprise. “What did you forget?”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Where?”

“To New Hampshire.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry, Vicky. I know it’s last-minute. I meant to ask you earlier, but I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“So you’re asking me now ?”

“The Gardners have a huge house, and I’m sure you’d get your own room. Maggie says there’s tons of space. And I bet you’d love these people; I bet they all read like crazy.”

The little boy in the barbershop cape watched Vicky’s reaction in the mirror, suddenly very interested in her response. She opened a drawer of toys and pushed a plastic dinosaur into his hands. “Listen, Frank. I know this wedding is important to you. And I am very, very flattered to be invited. But I’m already scheduled to work—”

“Right—”

“And we’re crazy busy all weekend—”

“Sure, sure, sure—”

“I can’t leave the other girls in the lurch.”

“Of course not. I should have asked you sooner. I’m sorry to be so weird about this.”

“You’re not being weird. I’m glad you invited me. And I swear to you, Frank, I would probably say yes if I had the weekend off.” She thought for a moment and added, “And if I had the right dress. And shoes. And a gift for the couple—”

“I understand.”

“But I’ll tell you what. After you get back, let’s go out for lunch. You could show me the photos, because I want to hear all about it.” Vicky reached for her tray of business cards and pressed one into my hand. “My number’s right here, okay?”

I already had five of her business cards at home, pinned to my refrigerator with magnets, but I took the extra one, anyway. I promised to call her, and she said she’d be waiting.