starting with a complete overhaul of Emmett’s “filing system.” I dumped his banker’s box of invoices onto the floor and used a hand-carved ivory walking stick to shuffle them around. Emmett was both incensed and horrified by my abuse of the stock.
By the time we closed, I’d almost gotten the invoices near some sort of order. Mama came barreling into the shop, clutching her handbag like a Spartan shield.
“Oh, crap,” Emmett muttered.
“Would you like to tell me why I had to hear from Betty Vogel that you’re back in town?” she demanded, stopping to give Emmett a quick kiss before continuing her tirade. “And why the whole of the Ladies Auxiliary seems to think you have a tattoo of a snake around your waist?”
Emmett snickered.
“Mama, I don’t have a tattoo,” I said, the picture of innocence. “But Emmett does.”
Emmett gasped right along with Mama. “How could you?” he spat, unconsciously rubbing at the little yin-yang symbol he’d had put on his hip in a drunken spring break debacle. “I swore you to secrecy!”
“You will never leave me in charge of reception again,” I told him.
“Agreed,” he ground out.
Mama exclaimed, “What is wrong with the two of you? Emmett, I didn’t spend fifteen hours in labor, passing your pumpkin of a head, for you to do that to your body! And Lacey, how could you move back to town without telling me?”
“I haven’t moved back, Mama, I’m just staying with Emmett for a few days while I figure some things out. Emmett, on the other hand, was drunk, and an art student from Atlanta convinced him it would seal their love.”
“Shut it,” Emmett warned. “Or I bring up the public yoga pants.”
I shuddered. “Agreed.”
“I thought you went to the lake to figure some things out,” Mama said, running her fingers through my hair, fluffing it up.
“Her problems followed her,” Emmett said. “Lacey is now dodging phone calls from men in two counties.”
“Monroe called?” I asked, my brow furrowed.
“Who’s Monroe?” Mama asked.
“Your voice mail was full, so he starting calling my cell,” Emmett said. “I assumed that since you let your voice mail fill up, you didn’t want to talk to him. I told him I didn’t know where you were.”
I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and saw that the battery was completely dead, which happens when you don’t charge it for three days. Monroe had called. And when he couldn’t reach me, he tracked down my brother. He cared enough to find me, which was more than I could say for Mike in the last days of our marriage. I didn’t know whether to be happy or annoyed. I settled for ambiguous and confused, with a teeny little spark of hope wriggling the weight loose from my chest.
“Oh, that’s good,” I muttered.
Mama took my face in her hands and forced me to focus on her question. “Who’s Monroe?”
“The man Lacey owes a big apology,” Emmett said.
“Oh, honey, you didn’t write something about him, did you?” Mama asked, shaking her head and clucking her tongue.
“No,” I mumbled. “It’s a normal relationship apology.”
“Relationship!” Mama exclaimed. “When did you have time to start a relationship? And how did you meet someone? You’ve been living in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, she didn’t have to look far,” Emmett said, smirking.
“Hidden piercings,” I said in a warning tone.
“Shutting up now,” promised Emmett.
“I’ll never understand the two of you,” Mama sighed. “Well, Emmers, it’s sweet that you put your sister up, but it would be best if she came on home. It would give her more time to tell me about this Monroe character.” She gave me a pointed look.
“Mama, I can’t come back to your house. I’m not staying at Emmett’s place permanently either. I’m just there for a few days and then, I don’t know what. I’ll figure something out.”
“Lace,” Emmett protested. “There’s no need to -”
Mama sighed, “But if you would just -”
“No,” I repeated. “You two can’t keep passing me back and forth like I’m some emotionally handicapped tennis ball. I love you guys, but I’ve managed to dress myself, and feed myself, and live on my own for the last several months without withering away and dying. I know I came down here looking for help, but sometimes that means ‘Just listen to me while I vent,’ not ‘Please take over my whole life.’ Now, I’d like to keep working here, Emmett, if it’s okay with you, but I think we can agree I need my own place, whether it’s up at the lake or here in town. Mama, don’t argue. I need my own space, and my own things, and room to make the huge mistakes I know you’re going to try to protect me from.” Emmett frowned, but seemed mollified when I added, “But I am keeping the clothes, though, because they’re really cute.”
“Will you at least let me make you an appointment with Dorie, honey, because this needs work,” Mama said, gesturing to my head.
“Hey, I did that!” Emmett explained.
“Oh…” Mama said. “It’s lovely, really.”
“In Emmett’s defense, it’s grown out a little since he cut it,,, said. ”And I didn’t put much effort into grooming this morning.”
Emmett cleared his throat.
“Fine, this week.”
My head ached dully at the thought of going to a salon, a public place, filled with women who would have dissected and discussed every little detail of my divorce. Face-to-face, they’d put on sweet smiles and make polite small talk and act like nothing had happened. The minute my back was turned, the whispering would start. But I’d put off dealing with this for long enough. I was going to have to deal with it eventually. Better to jump headlong into the icy pool than slide back into Singletree’s social circle one toe at a time.
I told Mama, “Please make an appointment with Dorie. Not because either of you told me I need it, but because I’d actually like to have some input into my haircut and not just wake up with a new one.” I scowled at my brother, who seemed more miffed than ever.
Mama smiled triumphantly and whipped out her cell phone. Our shared stylist’s number was on speed dial, between Daddy and poison control. “Dorie, hi, honey, it’s Deb. I’ve got a bit of a hair emergency here. Lacey’s in town and she could use a cut if you have a spot open.” Mama’s grin faltered a bit. “Oh, I see.”
Emmett shot me a confused look. I shrugged.
“Well, I suppose that will be fine,” Mama said, somewhat stiffly. “I understand that you’re booked up. Yes, that will be fine.” She hung up the phone. “Dorie says you can come by tomorrow at four.”
“Okay,” I said. “You seem a little upset about that.”
“Dorie’s never made me wait before,” Mama said. “She’s kept the shop open late for me when I needed a last-minute appointment. She opened up at the crack of dawn that morning I woke up with orange hair because the chlorine in the Terwilligers’ pool -” Mama gasped. “Wynnie got to her.”
“Mama, Wynnie doesn’t even go to that salon,” I said, laughing.
“No, but Dorie’s husband works for your soon-to-be former father-in-law,” Emmett reasoned. “This could be her subtle way of showing where her loyalties lie.”
“In the Great Hair Wars?” I laughed. “Mama, has Dorie treated you any differently since the e-mail?” Mama shook her head. “Then I’m sure she just didn’t have room for me on the schedule. I’ll go tomorrow and it will be fine. There is no mass salon conspiracy or darker purpose at work here.”
But from the moment I walked into the Uniquely You salon, I knew I was wrong. The salon was packed with the usual Friday afternoon primping-for-the-weekend crowd, and the moment I walked through the door, everyone stopped talking. Plump, pleasant Dorie Watkins blanched at the sight of me, her mouth set in a grim line as her baby-doll blue eyes flicked to the peach and chrome shampoo station in the back.
