Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Summer in the North Carolina mountains was muggy and hot. Fall wasn’t turning out to be much better. From the gossip in the salon, I figured out that this season had way less rainfall than normal. Everyone talked about how low the rivers were and how some tributaries had all but dried up. Nights were only a little cooler, and the tourists flocked to raft what was left of the river, swim in the lowered lakes, and ride the trains.

The salon stayed busy with people coming and going all day. My chair was constantly full, and I was happy to have a roster of clients who came to me regularly. Cuts, color, perms, styling, wedding parties—all sorts of jobs filled my days, and the tips didn’t suck.

Pearl was walking all the time now and getting into everything. I had to watch her like a hawk in the small apartment, as sitting still was no longer an option. She pulled up on anything that held her weight and grabbed at whatever caught her curious eye. Anything within her grasping range had to go on higher shelves. She was eating like a little pig, and it seemed like I had to buy her new clothes every week as fast as she was growing.

I was happy, or at least content for now.

The only blemish was my roommate. Kimmie was going out and drinking. A lot. Many nights she came home late or not at all. Sometimes Pearl woke up with her noise, and more than once, I had to rock my girl back to sleep, barely keeping my own eyes open while I did it. I tried to talk to Kimmie about her choices, and for a while, she would straighten up, but then the call of the bars and the men got too much for her and she went right back to them.

I was pretty sure it was because she was lonely. I had my daughter to take care of, which left me little time outside work to consider having any kind of companionship. There was only so much I could do for my friend. I hoped she recognized the path she was on soon before she did more damage to herself.

The bell at the salon’s door rang as Betsey came in. “Hey, y’all. How’s everyone doing?”

A chorus of “Just fines” and “Real goods” echoed back.

I was finishing up the last of the Coates triplets. The two ten-year-old girls and one boy were into competitive swimming and spent a lot of time in chlorinated water. I treated them with an apple cider vinegar rinse followed by a deep argan oil conditioner before I did the trimming.

I wondered when I should look into getting swim lessons for Pearl as I whipped the cape from Morgan’s shoulders. “All done, kiddo. I hope your meet this weekend goes well.”

The kid hopped down and darted to join his sisters.

“I got a big favor to ask you,” Betsey said as I picked up the broom.

“You bet. What can I do for you?”

“Weatherman’s mom ain’t doin’ too good. Them cancer treatments are takin’ a lot outta her. He said her hair has all fallen out. I want to get her a nice wig, but I don’t know nothin’ about them. Tambre said you helped a client get one a while back. Can you help me?”

Weatherman’s mom has cancer? This was news to me, but then again, I hadn’t seen much of the man since his bar rescue. Shop gossip said he’d taken a job with the forestry service and was working as a ranger and volunteer firefighter. The physical stamina test was tough, but Weatherman had passed it. I wasn’t surprised. He didn’t appear to be out of shape.

I dumped the hodgepodge of hair trimmings in the trash can next to my station. “I’ll be glad to help as I can. I have a friend from school who works with a wigmaker. She told me hand-tied human hair ones are the most comfortable and versatile, plus with good care, they can last up to a year. They’re also the most expensive, though.”

Betsey let out an odd “Psshht” sound, and her nails clicked as she wiggled her fingers in a dismissive gesture. “The cost don’t concern me. Takin’ care of my people does. Can you get me a pretty one similar to what her real hair used to look like? I have some pictures.”

She pulled up Facebook on her phone and scrolled through several images until she found the one she wanted. I saw an older woman with light brown and gray hair cut in a classic pageboy style with blunt bangs in front. Perfect to hide the netting seam. It was a simple look that wouldn’t take a lot of extra time to maintain. A younger teenage Weatherman with a high school letter jacket stood hugging her from behind. There was no denying that he got his good looks from his mom.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“Natalie. Natalie Turner. It’s just been her and her son for a long time. When Weatherman joined us, she came along too.”

Something clicked into place. He’d been short-tempered the morning he found me with the flat tire. Of course, my gut reaction then didn’t help, but it made sense now. His mom was sick. I had no relationship with my own mother, but I saw what it was supposed to be like when I lived with my friend Mama J in Minnesota. That woman would give her life to save her kids—and nearly did one night last winter. Weatherman must have been feeling this deep with his mother. This probably affected everything in him.

The women of the Dragon Runners MC were also prime examples of motherhood. Betsey took everyone under her wing no matter what. Tambre, Molly, Kat, Eva, Psalm, Lori—all of them showed such family devotion and care as I’d never seen in any other bunch of people. It was humbling. I understood a new restaurant owner in town, Fauna, was on her way to becoming part of this group as well.

At one time in my life, I thought I had a big family with the Dutchmen MC. I’d wanted it to be true and craved it like I was starving. I was so close to having it, but then it was ripped away one snowy night. I’d resolved myself to never realizing that dream, but it was nice to see other people living it, I guess.

I had too many sins in my past to ever have a golden future.

“I’ll make some inquiries and email you some pics,” I told Betsey. “I’ll make sure Natalie gets the best.”

She smiled. “I knew I could count on you. We’re so damn lucky you decided to make our mountain town your new home.”

I got a little flustered at the praise from the MC queen. Part of me liked that I was appreciated. It was rare that anyone did. The other part of me had red flags flaring like crazy. Usually when someone gave me compliments, there was a hidden motive.

Fortunately, the bell rang again, and I turned to the new customer as Betsey waved goodbye. It was a man I’d not see before in the salon. He was attractive, but in a wholesome boy-next-door kind of way, not the drop-dead-gorgeous-rebel vibe I got from Weatherman. He was slightly taller than me with a slim build, pleasant face, dark hair, and brown eyes that peered at me from behind wire-framed glasses. “You must be Opal. My sister, Agatha, has bugged me for weeks to come get a haircut from you. I’m Pastor Robert Tisdale.”

Oh shit! Uh… shoot. “Nice to meet you… um… Pastor.”

He smiled with a slow blink. Not one of those sexy, cunning blinks. One that radiated kindness and understanding, like a big brother or therapist. It was nice.

“Nice to meet you too. Most people call me Bob or Bobby. Do you have time now, or should I make an appointment?”

My next color was in an hour. “I have time now. Please.” I gestured to my chair. “Do you need a shampoo or just a cut?”

“I washed it this morning. It should be fine, but thanks for asking.”

That serene smile stayed on his face as he sat, and I draped the cape over him. I noticed there were several sets of eyes stealing glances at him over magazine covers and cell phones. I saw one woman take a few pictures. Didn’t any of these women have lives outside the salon?

I combed through his thick dark hair. His cut was basic layers and not complicated at all. He sat still as I threaded the strands through my fingers to get an idea for how they would lie.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming in like this. Aggie has been on my case for me to come meet you. I’m hoping she’ll back off now that I have.” His eyes sparkled. “Dare I admit, she was right? You are a very pretty lady.”

Heat filled my cheeks. Seriously? Me? Blushing? I didn’t think it was possible. “Thank you, Pastor… Pastor Robert. Preacher?”

He laughed. “I’m just Bobby.”

I snipped and clipped, watching the shining locks as they glided through my comb. He talked and asked questions. Where did I come from in Minnesota? How did I like living in North Carolina? Did I like working in this salon? Thankfully, he didn’t ask too much about my religious background. I was nervous about telling him I had none.

His hair was nice. With lots of body and a slight wave, it lay well and had the spicy scent of American Crew products. He was pleasant and uncomplicated, and I found myself enjoying this brief encounter. The cut didn’t take very long, and when I finished, he turned his head back and forth with that peaceful, easy smile returning to his face. I wasn’t sure it ever left.

“This is so much better than the barbershop. You’re very talented.”

“Thanks.” Another blush. What is wrong with me?

He handed me two twenties at the counter and told me to keep the change. My déjà vu sense buzzed, remembering the last time a man handed me that exact amount. Weatherman. God… uh… gosh, why did he crop up now?

“…coffee soon?”

I caught the tail end of Robert’s inquiry but clued in enough to determine that he’d asked me out for coffee. “Um… I don’t have a lot of free time, but we’ll see.”

His smile deepened. “Aggie told me you’re widowed and have a little girl. I’m sorry for your loss, and please bring her along if that’s easier for you.”

He didn’t mind that I had a kid. “Okay.”

He extended his hand to me. “Well, Miss Opal, I hope I’ll be seeing you soon.”

I took his hand. Warm. Dry. Firm but not squeezing.

I rang up his cut, tucked my tip in my back jeans pocket, and did my best to ignore the speculative looks from the waiting area. I wanted to tell them it was just a cut, but it didn’t matter if I did or not. Salon gossip would never be suppressed.

I just hoped it would turn from me to something else as soon as possible.