Shock-white hair angled from the nape of Patrice’s neck to curve around blade-sharp cheekbones set high above a narrow chin. A fringe of white cut a line above sea green eyes that took in every detail of EV’s appearance.
Mild panic set in when Patrice reached out to sift a lock of sable strands through her fingers.
“Virgin.” she pronounced in a heavy French accent. “It is rare—unprocessed hair. Good color. You cut it yourself, no?”
“Well, I…”
“Do not lie. Patrice always knows.”
From behind her, EV heard a snicker and knew it was Chloe. She squared her shoulders. “Yes, I cut it myself.” Was this a trip to the Principal’s office, or a hairdresser?
“This you must not do.” Patrice circled a third time. “Shape is wrong. Those eyes, those cheekbones, you do them no favors.” She reversed, circling once more in the opposite direction. “Yes. I will fix.” Patrice clapped twice, sending her minions scurrying to do her unspoken bidding, while EV turned to burn Chloe with the force of her glare. Somehow, Chloe managed to keep a straight face while she nodded encouragement, but the second EV turned away again, she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
If fear of what Patrice planned to do to her hadn’t set EV on edge, she might have enjoyed the shampoo more. As it was, she suspected the beautiful young man who danced expert fingers over her scalp only wore those tight black pants to distract patrons from what lay ahead. It almost worked, too.
When tight-pants finished, he led EV to where Patrice waited next to the Chair of Doom. Even Chloe’s head swiveled to watch him leave the room.
Perfectly sculpted though they were, his buns were the last thing on EV’s mind as Patrice spun the chair away from the mirror and brandished her pointy-ended comb. The first snick of the scissors sounded like a gong, and EV jumped when Patrice commanded, “Relax. Trust me. I always give good hair.”
Since it was too late to turn back now, EV decided to give in. While hair slithered to the floor, Patrice said, “There is someone special, no? A man?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated.” Patrice shrugged. “Flimsy social media word, eh? Still, is better than boring.” Without looking, she passed off the scissors and comb.” A blow dryer slapped her palm with all the gravity of a surgeon being handed a scalpel. Five minutes later, It was over. Patrice spun the chair and EV finally got a look at herself.
“What do you think?” Chloe burst out. “I love it; you look amazing.”
EV turned her head from side to side to fully take in the new look. She’d lost at least half the bulk to choppy layers that skimmed her cheekbones and accentuated her eyes. Patrice was a genius—it was polished, yet artfully messy at the same time.
“It’s…Wow! Is that really me?”
“You will not cut it yourself again.” Patrice ordered.
“I won’t let her.” Chloe assured. The soft sound of a camera shutter clicked somewhere behind Chloe, and she could have sworn EV’s face brightened momentarily, as if illuminated by a quick flash of light. Glancing around, she noticed a few people milling about the waiting area, but nobody paying special attention to their conversation. Probably just some tourist taking a selfie, she thought, chalking up the unnerving feeling of being watched to a mere coincidence.
After a final round of cheek kissing, Chloe forced EV out the door.
“Okay, next we’ll get you a new outfit, and then we’ll have your makeup done.”
“Is this your subtle way of telling me I’ve been letting myself go?”
“No. It’s my in-your-face way of telling you that it’s okay to try new things. Plus, it’s fun to play dress up.” Taking time for a serious moment, Chloe added, “Besides, I thought it might help prepare you for what’s coming. I know it’s going to be tough on you, because there’s no way seeing him doesn’t dredge up the past. Think of this as putting up your shields.”
“Phasers on stun?” EV’s lips quirked.
“No darling, phasers on stunning. You’re such a nerd, though. I meant like armor for going into battle, but I guess your analogy works, too.”
“I’m going to be fine, you know. He no longer has the power to hurt me.”
“Then think of this as your reward. Either way, you’re getting new clothes, and it’s about time, too.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes? It’s not like I buy all of them at New Sage. I go into Portland and spend the big bucks on labels when I feel like it.”
“And when would that be? Twice a decade?”
“I hate shopping.”
Chloe considered a response, but finding none of sufficient scorn, she dragged EV into her favorite of the two boutiques.
* * *
Back in Ponderosa Pines, Lottie Calabrese paused in her perusal of new decorating ideas on Pinterest to open the email from Chloe when it hit her inbox with a ping. “Holy crow, would you look at that,” she breathed when the image of EV in her new finery popped onto the screen. Three keystrokes later, the email winged it’s way forward to her entire list of contacts in town—which included just about everyone.
In Ireland, Chloe timed it at just under two minutes before the image popped up on Facebook—evidence of what happens when a small town grapevine goes high tech.
* * *
Back in the suite, Lila paced across the plush white carpet in measured steps from the balcony doors through the small sitting area to the bathroom door, and then back again. Where were they? She had news—big news—and no one to share it with.
By the time Chloe pushed open the door, Lila was ready to burst.
“Where have you…?” Lila caught sight of EV; her eyebrows lifted, and she let out a low whistle. “I guess I
