“It’s subtle on dark hair,” Marietta clarified. “You can only see it when light hits it a certain way.”
The big-haired woman gave Bree a critical once-over and nodded. “She’s right. With your coloring, it’d look fabulous. I’m Viola, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Viola. I’m Bree.”
Viola smirked. “I know.”
They were looking at her expectantly. She did like the color, almost as much as she liked the idea of doing something unexpected. And if it put her in their good graces, all the better. But ...
She looked around at the nearly full waiting area. “Do you have time?”
The woman laughed. “They’re not waiting. They’re just here for the gossip.”
“All right then, let’s do it.”
Viola pointed to one of the styling stations, wrapped a cape over her clothes, and ran her fingers through her hair. “You’ve got beautiful hair. When’s the last time you had a trim?”
“It’s been a while,” Bree admitted.
“After we do the color, let’s take an inch off and revive some of that gorgeous natural curl. Marietta can do your nails while the color’s cooking.” When Bree agreed, Viola got to work. “So, you’re doing a piece on Sanctuary, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s about time those boys got some recognition.”
In the mirror, Bree saw Mona scowl. The older woman rose and gathered her purse, saying she had somewhere else to be. Edith and Lydia followed shortly after, leaving the Franco’s hostess, Viola, Marietta, and Winona Mitchell in the shop.
“Something I said?” Bree asked Viola.
“No, something I said,” Viola corrected.
“Don’t take it personally,” Carmella said. “They’ve got bees in their bonnets when it comes to Matt Winston.”
It was exactly the opening Bree had been hoping for. “Why? They’re doing a good thing.”
“Yes, they are,” Carmella agreed firmly. “There should be help for those who put their lives on the line for us every day. That kind of thing far outweighs personal grudges and petty vendettas. Some people need to get over it already.”
“Ancient history,” Viola said dismissively, meeting Bree’s questioning eyes in the mirror. “Mona was sweet on Matt’s granddaddy, and he ended up marrying another.”
Carmella sniffed. “I bet she gave it up in the back of Matt’s granddaddy’s Edsel. She’s never forgiven him—or his descendants for that matter. To this day, she casts the evil eye whenever she looks up toward the mountain.”
“Malocchio,” Bree murmured.
The word came to mind, heard as an echoed whisper from her childhood. Bree knew that the evil eye was a kind of curse, cast simply by a malevolent glare. She didn’t personally give credence to that kind of thing, but her mother had.
“My mother was a big believer. She used to wear a charm in the shape of a horn as protection.”
Viola nodded. “A cornicello. You don’t see them too much anymore.”
That explained why Mona Delvecchio had an issue—ridiculous as it was—but not the others.
“What about the others? What do they have against Sanctuary?”
“She’s sharp, this one, eh?” Viola grinned, exchanging a look with Carmella. To Bree, she said, “Most of the people here support Sanctuary, but there are a few who aren’t happy about having them around. They see them as a threat.”
“Because of their military training or because of their readjustment issues?” Bree asked.
“No. Because they’re not the type to look the other way if something’s not right,” Carmella replied.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Daryl Freed would never have become chief of police if Samuel Winston were still around,” Winona said firmly. “Daryl is a bully, just like his daddy, and he raised his son to be the same way.”
Viola nodded in agreement. “Now that he’s got a taste of power, he wants more. He surrounds himself with people who’ll do whatever he says.”
“But he knows he can’t control Matt,” Carmella insisted.
“And then there’s the underworld ties, if you know what I mean,” Winona said in a hushed voice.
Viola laughed. “At least she stopped calling them La Cosa Nostra.”
By the time Bree left the salon nearly two hours later, her head was swimming with information. Viola hadn’t been kidding when she said reasons varied.
One story said a feud had originated when Matt’s grandfather screwed Daryl Freed’s grandfather out of land on the mountain, though there were different versions of what had actually happened. One claimed Freed had made a deal with an organized crime family in New York to dump illegal waste; another said that Winston had made up the story to acquire the land himself.
Others suggested the grudges were primarily based on matters of the heart, like Mona’s. That was how Bree had learned that a close friend of Lenny Petraski’s, Sandy Summers, had become involved with one of the men of Sanctuary and left him heartbroken. Kate Handelmann’s name had come up again also, prompting a lively discussion on the fragility of the male ego and how, of course, women would be attracted to buff Navy SEALs over beady-eyed accountants.
Bree jotted down notes on everything when she got back to the B & B. Without corroboration, it was nothing more than hearsay, but it did weave a very interesting canvas of possibilities.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cage
There weren’t many options for dinner or coffee in and around Sumneyville. There was Franco’s, a burger joint on the outskirts of town, and a diner farther out. Cage opted for the diner. According to Sam, it was a laid-back, casual kind of place. Relatively popular with the locals, it would afford them some privacy while not inviting the same level of scrutiny as Franco’s.
Cage sat in a corner booth, eyes watchful as his fingers drummed quietly on the tabletop. Bree had declined his offer to pick her up at the bed-and-breakfast, saying she had things to do and would meet him there.
Nervous energy bubbled up inside him. Yeah, he knew this wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a date even if it did kind of feel that way. Bree was just looking for a scoop, and his mission was to keep her occupied and out of trouble. As long
