Smoking Hot (19 page)

As soon as the door of the beauty shop closed behind Raine, everyone looked up with a smile of greeting, but their smiles slipped. She recognized some of the patrons. Mrs. Weatherspoon was under one of the hair dryers. She had retired after thirty-five years of teaching sixth grade. The elderly woman cocked an eyebrow as she obviously mulled over the accusations thrown at Raine.

Amy, the young waitress at the café, was getting her nails done. She jumped as though she thought Raine would pull her gun out and rob them at any second. Only problem was the manicurist was painting one of the girl's fingernails and ended up leaving a streak of fluorescent orange nail polish down her own hand when Amy moved. The manicurist pursed her lips and grabbed the remover while Amy stuttered an apology.

Two more ladies were under dryers, and two beauticians were cutting hair. Raine could feel the stares of everyone as she walked up to the appointment desk.

“I made an appointment earlier this morning,” she said. “For a trim.”

Raine knew the woman behind the desk. Cynthia was a stuck-up snob in high school and Raine doubted she'd changed much.

Without looking at the appointment book, she smiled sweetly. “I don't think I have you down. I'm terribly sorry. Maybe you could come back another time.”

One of the beauticians was just coming from the back with bottled water. She twisted off the cap and handed the bottle to Mrs. Weatherspoon, who smiled her thanks. The beautician had apparently heard Cynthia because she didn't stop until she was at the desk.

“You called for an appointment?” she asked.

“This morning,” Raine said. “My name is Raine McCandless.”

There was a moment of surprise in the woman's eyes, but she quickly covered it and glanced down at the book.

“I told her we don't have her down and we're all full.” Cynthia's bitchy smile was fixed in place.

“Nonsense. If she said she called, then she called. This isn't the first time you've forgotten to write down a client's appointment. Don't let it happen again.”

Cynthia's face turned deep red. “But… But…”

“Did you want to say something else?” The beautician's steady stare never wavered.

Cynthia pursed her lips. “No.”

“Good.” The beautician met Raine's gaze and smiled. “I'm Jill, what can I do for you today?” She waved Raine toward one of the chairs.

“Just a trim. A wash and blow dry.” She didn't add “and to hear all the latest gossip.” This was the busiest place in town. In the mornings the coffee shop at the café took center stage, but by nine, the beauty shop began to buzz. Raine had made an afternoon appointment. She hoped by then word would have spread of Ethan's purchase. But it might take longer than she'd expected for everyone to get over their nervousness around her. They'd all clammed up. “Maybe a new style? I'm getting tired of this one.”

Jill cut the rubber band around Raine's ponytail. It was like opening the door of an over-filled closet. Everything sprang out.

“You do have a lot of hair,” Jill exclaimed with a laugh. “Maybe we need to tame it a little.”

“I have a problem with the frizzies.”

“I can see that, but it's an easy fix. I'm sure it won't take me long at all.”

But Raine didn't want to leave too soon. “I don't suppose I could get a manicure and pedicure too?”

Jill glanced toward the manicurist, who looked up and shrugged. “I don't have anything after Amy. My whole afternoon is free.”

“Great.” That should give her time to gather any information.

By the time Jill finished with Raine's hair, the patrons had started talking amongst themselves again. Apparently, there were other things going on in town almost as important to them. Like the revival coming to town next week, and the bake sale to raise money for Luther Gaines had been a success. He was in the hospital in Dallas after Gilbert Rutherford tripped and accidentally shot his friend in the leg when they were hunting. It looked as though he'd have a speedy recovery.

The Smith boys were caught riding their bikes across old Mrs. Swan's yard and she had every right to complain when they took the shortcut. They'd already managed to cut a path through her beautifully landscaped yard. It might do them good to spend the next few weeks picking up trash.

RJ, who worked on the ambulance, and his wife were expecting another little one. Their second, and they were hoping for a boy this time. And Cory Bradley wrecked his red 1980 Mustang. He was okay, but his father said the boy would have to save up the money to get it fixed. Raine was glad to hear that his parents finally got a little sense. The other women breathed a collective sigh of relief, too.

“I'm so glad I won't have to listen to his loud muffler at two in the morning,” one of the women remarked what they all were thinking. “I told his mother something like this would happen, but she wouldn't listen. About time his father stepped up to the plate. He might have a bat, but Jarod Bradley doesn't have any balls. Nice to know he finally found some.”

The other women snickered at her play on words. Raine smiled, glancing in the mirror when Jill swung her chair around.

“Better?”

Raine's usually thick hair was trimmed a few inches shorter and had been thinned. Jill had washed it, applied styling gel, and blew it dry. She followed up with her flat iron. Raine's hair was tamed and shiny. “It looks wonderful.” She met Jill's eyes in the mirror and they smiled at each other.

“I think Marsha is ready for you,” Jill said.

Raine moved to the chair across from the manicurist. Marsha took her hand and grimaced.

“Ohmigosh, when was your last manicure?”

“I've never had one,” Raine admitted.

“Then darlin', you're in for a treat. When you leave here I guarantee you'll be a steady customer.”

Raine smiled. She didn't plan on telling Marsha she could barely buy food each week, let alone fritter money away on nonsense like going to the beauty shop. Although Raine had to admit, there was something to be said for feeling pampered.

The door to the shop opened behind her. Raine glanced in the mirror that ran the entire upper half of one wall and recognized the owner of the small boutique on the corner, Ruth Albright. She'd seen the other woman who was with her around town but couldn't remember her name. Mrs. Albright catered to a clientele that was obsessed with anything shabby chic. Raine once heard the woman made most of her money by tripling the price and sending her merchandise up North.

“He bought the dealership,” Ms. Albright said as they stopped at the front desk.

Raine's heart jumped to her throat. She dared not breathe in case she might miss what Mrs. Albright might say next.

“Anyone home?” Marsha waved her hand in front of Raine's face.

Raine jumped. She was so intent on listening to the other women she wasn't paying attention to what Marsha was saying. She focused on the manicurist since the two women were checking their appointment times. They'd stopped talking about the dealership being sold. It might not even be the one in town, but that still didn't stop her heart from thudding against her ribs.

“Did you say something?” she asked Marsha.

“You zoned out again. I asked what color.”

“What color of what?”

“Polish. Did you forget that you're getting a manicure?”

She quickly glanced at the colors. “Clear.”

Marsha casually picked up the clear and shifted slightly in her chair, then dropped the nail polish in the trash. “This is your day to shine, and I don't do clear.”

Drama Queen. She glanced toward row after row of nail shades. There were at least fifty to choose from.

Ms. Albright began to talk again as the two women moved to the waiting area where there were a cluster of chairs. As soon as they were seated, Ms. Albright turned to her friend. “He paid a pretty penny for the building.”

What did Ms. Albright know and how much would be accurate? It didn't matter. Raine could find out the particulars. Ms. Albright was confirming what Tilly had told her. This was it, the break she was looking for.

“Color?” Marsha asked again.

“You choose,” she absently told her.

“Deep purple it is,” Marsha said then smiled.

Raine didn't pay attention to the color. She wanted to hear what Ms. Albright said next.

A woman suddenly leaned out from under a dryer. Raine recognized her as Barb Ware. Recently married for the fifth time. Everything about her was fake. Her husbands liked having a trophy wife, even though she wasn't exactly first place.

“Hey Ruth, did you get that shipment in you were talking about the other day? I've been dying to see the new stuff.”

Raine stifled her groan of frustration.

Ms. Albright began a lively discussion about the new merchandise she was about to put on display. Barb promised to drop by the next day and asked if she really was going to open a tea room as well.

Raine counted to fifty before Jill went to the hairdryers and uncurled one of the woman's rollers.

“You're done, Barb. Let's get you combed out or you're going to be late for your own party.”

Raine breathed again. Finally, the stupid conversation was over. Except the two women didn't stop their discussion as she hoped. Raine had to think of something to get their attention back on track. Nothing came to mind to redirect their attention back to Ethan purchasing the dealership.

“Are you ready for the chair?” Marsha asked.

“The chair?”

“Yeah, for your pedicure.”

Raine knew she was losing it fast. She needed to think about something else before Marsha thought so, too.

Dillon suddenly appeared, leaning casually against the corner of Marsha's desk. Raine jumped, heart once more pounding against her chest. “I hate when you do that!”

Marsha hesitated. “What'd I do?”

Raine looked between Marsha and Dillon.

He grimaced. “Sorry, she can't see or hear me. Only you.”

Great. Just great. Even if she was cleared of the bank robbery charges, everyone would probably think she was crazy. She smiled at Marsha. “Oh, not you.”

“Then what?” Marsha glanced around.

“I was thinking aloud.” Raine gave a weak laugh. “I guess I was lost in thought. I just remembered I forgot to grab a gallon of milk. Don't you hate to buy groceries, then later that night remember you forgot something?”

Marsha didn't look convinced, but before she could come up with another lie, Marsha laughed. “I thought I was the only one who didn't remember to jot down a list! I always say I will, but can never find the time. Well, at least you didn't drive all the way home. You can grab a gallon after you leave here.”

“You're right. I'll do that.” She moved to the chair, but narrowed her eyes at Dillon. He only shrugged as if his popping in was an accident.

“I'll be right back. Just need to get water for my basin. Can I bring you back a bottle of water?”

Raine smiled and shook her head, willing the other woman to leave.

“You look pretty,” Dillon said. “It's about time you did something for yourself.”

She couldn't stop the flutter of excitement that went through her, but she quickly tamped it down. She was on a mission, nothing more. “Tilly got a tip that Ethan bought the dealership,” she spoke beneath her breath and tried not to move her lips any more than she had to. She gained new respect for ventriloquists. Her jaw ached after one sentence.

She looked at the row of hairdryers with women sitting under them, then over at Ms. Albright and her friend, who were waiting for their appointment. No one paid her any mind.

Dillon wore a confused look. “So you decided to get your nails done?”

“This is the best place to hear the latest gossip. The two women in the waiting area were talking about it when they came into the shop.”

Marsha returned carrying a heavy tub filled with water, so Raine didn't say more. When she glanced around the room her gaze skidded to a stop. Jill was looking at her as though Raine had lost her mind. Great, just great. She pointed toward one of the speakers in the corner of the shop. “I love this song.” She wasn't sure Jill completely bought her story, but it was the best she could do in the short amount of time. Dillon received another glare.

“This song?” Marsha asked with surprise.

Raine didn't even know what was playing. She listened for a moment. A rap song. She hated rap. This one was particularly bad. She nodded and lied. “It has a catchy beat.”

“Not really my cup of tea, but I suppose someone likes it or the artists wouldn't be making so much money.” She sat on a small stool in front of Raine, checked the water in the basin, then motioned for Raine to put her feet inside. While Marsha worked, Raine eavesdropped on the two women.

“No, he didn't pay all the purchase price in cash.” Ms. Albright said. “On his salary? Just a hefty down payment. He'd have to rob a bank to buy it outright.” She laughed as she looked around the room, then started choking when her gaze met Raine's.

Ms. Albright's friend began to beat her on the back and Jill ran to the other room, returning a few minutes later with more bottled water. She twisted the cap off and shoved it toward Ms. Albright, who quickly took a drink.

“I swallowed wrong,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “Thank you for the water, dear. I'm fine now.”

Jill nodded before returning to Barb.

Ms. Albright reacted like everyone in town. They'd already tried and convicted her. It didn't matter that she'd lived in Randolph most of her life or that her father had protected the town on very little salary. She looked at her hands, twining her fingers together. It didn't matter that she was an officer of the law, sworn to serve. Disappointment began to weave through her.