The Prince Charming List (14 page)

I locked up and went to get my car to take to Bree’s. The Penny hospitality was going to have to extend another night. I’d snuck up to the apartment bright and early before opening the salon and saw that Dex had been busy. He’d put the police tape back up, creating a web so thick I’d need an electric hedge trimmer to break through. But just in case I tried, he’d left a note on my door.

NOT YET.

That was Dex. A man of few (very few) words. I was tempted to rip the note down and give it to Jill Cabott as evidence.

On the way out to the farm, I called Jared.

When I heard him say hello, I had to admit he had a great phone voice. Kind of low and rumbly. Like his motorcycle when it was idling.

“Hi, it’s Heather. What are you up to?”

“I’m still at the studio, trying to capture Junebug’s essence.”

“You’re what?”

“A quote from Lester Lee. Who, by the way, spent most of the afternoon watching me work. I had to redo Junebug’s ear three times until he gave me the thumbs-up. Apparently her left ear curls at the tip and if I didn’t get it right, no one would believe that Junebug was the model for the statue.”

I laughed, expecting Jared to join in. He didn’t.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m on my way to Bree’s house. By tomorrow night I should be back in the apartment.”

“So what time are you free tomorrow?”

“That’s why I called you. Bernice had volunteered to help at the nursing home tomorrow and they assumed I’d be filling in for her. It’ll only be for a few hours.”

So, do you want me to call you when I’m done?
This was the question I couldn’t ask. We weren’t at that stage in our relationship yet. Everyone knew that the beginning of a relationship consisted of two people trying hard not to be the one to fall
first
. That made you vulnerable. But I wasn’t used to those games and I didn’t like them.

“Whatever. I’ll talk to you sometime tomorrow, then.” His voice sounded distant. He was upset. Or not. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I thought he was analyzing the future of our relationship but he was probably tying his shoe. Or wondering how late the gas station was open.

“I’ll probably be home by six.” Big hint.

“Have fun.”

I hung up the phone, leaving me to conclude that men weren’t from Mars: they were from another galaxy entirely.

“H
eather! Audrey said you’d be here. It’s so good to see you.” Esther Crandall was waiting for me in the reception area and I gave her a hug.

“Hi, Esther. Where do I report for duty?”

“In the atrium. I’ll show you where it is.” Esther caught my hands in hers and took a step back to study me. “Small-town life agrees with you. The salon is keeping you busy?”

“It is. But I love it.” We fell into step together as we walked down the corridor. She reminded me of a hummingbird—tiny and vivacious. Or a pixie queen. Her silver hair was braided into a crown around her head and the blush of color in her cheeks had a hint of sparkle in it.

“We appreciate you giving up your afternoon to come down here and put some color in our day. We’re a lively group—I’ve seen some of the men turn off their hearing aids until we’re finished and most of them won’t venture from their rooms until the staff brings out the popcorn.”

Esther was right. I could hear the Beach Boys blaring from a room at the end of the corridor. There was a cluster of women, all wearing colorful plastic leis, waiting for us in the atrium. Esther introduced me to everyone. I recognized some of the volunteers from Faith Community, including Jeanne Charles, the pastor’s wife. She had a grass skirt on over her conservative brown pants.

“Tropical theme today,” Esther whispered. “It gives us an excuse to do the limbo.”

I choked back a laugh when she winked at me.

“I’m first.” A woman in a wheelchair, wearing sunglasses and a bright silk scarf around her neck, waved to get my attention. “It’s my birthday today.”

“It’s Tildie’s birthday every day,” I heard one of the women grumble.

I hid a smile. “Happy birthday, Tildie. What’s your favorite color?”

“I’m wearing it, sweetie.”

Fire-engine red. A shade or two brighter than her hair.

I looked at the card table scattered with samples of Mystique Makeup and the hopeful faces of the women who’d gathered around me. I put a plastic lei around my neck and pushed up my sleeves.

“Let’s get started.”

It was almost ten o’clock when I got back to the apartment.

Before I went home, I stopped out at Bree’s to pick up Snap and tucked her under my arm while I sprinted up the steps. When I was almost to the top, I could see a shadowy figure waiting for me.

“Don’t tell me I can’t stay here tonight!” I groaned the words when I realized it was Dex standing on the landing.

“Everything’s back to normal.”

I wasn’t going to touch that one.

“That’s a relief.” I pushed open the door and released Snap, who dove out of my arms in a graceful arch and promptly went to check out her food dish.

Dex followed me inside. “You look…content.”

It was a strange thing to say but fit the way I felt. I’d had a great time with the ladies at the Golden Oaks. And Esther hadn’t been kidding about the limbo. “Thanks, Dex.”

He looked at me like I’d gone from content to delusional in the space of a few seconds. “For kicking you out of your apartment for the weekend?”

When he put it
that
way…

“I had a great weekend with Bree at the farm. The next time Alex calls, I’ll tell him the floor looks great.”

“Alex Scott calls you? Why?”

Oh, please.
“Because he’s my dad.”

Dex looked so stunned he couldn’t possibly be faking it. I exhaled slowly, wondering what it would mean to him. I was still trying to figure out what it meant to me. Bernice had had a run-in with the paparazzi a year ago and one of the things Alex had warned me about if he and I were seen together that my private life might be under scrutiny. I’d decided to take the chance, but it didn’t mean I always felt at peace about it.

“I thought you were just the renter.”

“Nope. I’m the daughter.”

I could picture the wheels turning in his head, like he was playing Memory and searching for a match. “So Bernice—”

And we have a winner!

“Is my biological mother.” I finished the sentence. I didn’t like the word
biological
. It sounded so clinical. And it didn’t begin to describe the woman who had been alone and confused but had loved me enough to bring me into the world.

“But they just got married.”

I smiled, remembering their wedding day. “It was about time. They split up before I was born but they never stopped loving each other. If I hadn’t found Bernice, they might not have ever found each other.”

“Semper fidelis.”

I’d heard the expression before. “What does that mean?”

“Always faithful.”

It fit. “You’re right. Neither of them ever married.”

Dex shrugged. “I was talking about God.”

Sometimes I forgot that Dex was going into the mission field. Maybe because he didn’t seem like the missionary type to me. If there
was
a missionary type. What I couldn’t figure out was why I’d told Dex about Alex and Bernice when I still had a hard time talking about it with anyone else. I mean, missionary or not, he didn’t exactly have that warm, fuzzy, you-can-tell-me-anything type of personality going for him. So why were we having this conversation?

Then my thoughts jumped their track and went down a completely different path. “Wait a second.
Semper fidelis.
That’s Latin.”

His eyebrows rose above the dark frames of his glasses like two crescent moons to ask the eternal question,
so what?

“I
knew
you knew what
carpe diem
meant.”

He gave me a long look. “The varnish is still kind of tacky. You better take off your shoes or they might get ruined.”

Ha. He only
thought
that would distract me. “Come on. Admit it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He crossed his arms.

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Dex.” For the next episode of
Home Makeover: Nightmare on Main Street.

Dex’s smile came and went so fast that I was sure I’d imagined it.
“Deo volente.”

At the risk of validating every blond joke I’d ever heard, I couldn’t resist teasing him. Just to see if there was another smile in there. “Seize the violin?”

No smile. No response. Nobody home. Dex’s internal alarm clock must have gone off, telling him it was time to leave. He took a few cautious, sticky steps away from me, picking up speed as he got closer to the door. I decided I wasn’t going to be ignored. Again.

“Conversations are like doors, Dex. You can’t just leave them wide open.” I had to shout the words, because I could hear his cowardly feet running down the stairs. But I took comfort in knowing he’d heard me.

He’d left the door open.

I went to close it and saw lights on in Jared’s garage. He was probably upset I’d canceled on him. Or worse, he thought this was my way of getting revenge for canceling on
me
. That’s why he hadn’t returned my call. He thought
I
was playing hard to get. So now he was playing harder to get.

Maybe I should call him again? No, that was cell phone roulette. One call was acceptable. Two calls in the same evening (less than two hours apart) shrieked desperate. And if he didn’t answer that second call, I’d still get a message. And it would be: I’m-busy-and-have-a-life-too-you-know.

“Heather? Is that you?” Jared was standing in the alley.

Great. Now he was going to think I was a stalker. Was this better than desperate? I slunk down the stairs. “I just got home a few minutes ago.”

Jared met me halfway. He must have been working on Junebug because he’d stripped off his shirt and draped it over his shoulder. There was a smear of clay across his bare chest and that was all I was going to let myself notice.

“Heather, did you ditch me tonight on purpose? Are you getting ready to deliver the
let’s just be friends
speech? Because I have to tell you that I like spending time with you. I like
you
. But if you don’t want to hang out together, just tell me. Wondering what you’re thinking is messing up my muse.”

I was messing up his muse. It was the best compliment I’d ever gotten.

Honesty. It was what I’d wanted. And it would take us one giant step forward into…into
what?
Uncharted relationship territory, that’s what. I needed clarity. I needed some road signs.
Take a right. Turn this way. Warning: Temptation ahead.
I liked him, too. He’d taken a risk and now it was my turn. Why couldn’t I say the words?

Don’t forget he’s burning his way through The List, Heather.

Except for the most important one.

“No speeches. I like hanging out with you, too.” Honest but wimpy. It was the best I could do. I’d wanted signs. Right now there was a great big yellow light blinking in my head.
Caution!
I wanted to find the plug and yank it out.

“Great.” He gave me a lazy smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow after work. I’m feeling inspired again.”

On my way back to the apartment, I got a text message from Dex. Deo volente. God willing.

I thought about Jared and sighed. I really hoped He was.

Call me a coward, but I avoided Sally’s again the next morning. I knew my picture was on a dartboard somewhere. My consolation for missing out on Amanda’s biscotti was the piece of butter pecan cake Elise had sent home with me. I was just about to take my morning break and dig into it when someone pushed on the door so hard it bounced off the rubber stopper on the wall.

A teenage girl charged in, towing a smaller replica of herself by the hand.

“Do you have any openings for a cut?” she choked.

One glance at the younger girl and I knew why her sister sounded so panicked. She’d tried to give herself a haircut. With a pair of those blunt-tipped scissors favored by kindergarten teachers everywhere.

I knelt down so I was at eye level with her. “Were you playing beauty shop?”

The little girl grinned at me. Which I took as a yes. “What’s your name?”

“Whitney Darnell.” Then she held up four fingers before I asked, proving she’d been through the drill before.

“Let me get the elephant chair for you, Whitney.”

“Can you…fix it?” her sister whispered.

“Sure.” Hair emergencies took priority over cake. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath. What’s your name?”

“Kaylie…Kaylie…Darnell.”

Judging from her ragged breathing, it sounded like she was about to pass out on the floor right in front of me. For the first time I noticed she had a large, reddish purple birthmark on her face. Her hair was long and straight so the way she angled her head partially concealed it.

“Have a seat. And some cake. I’d skip the coffee, though, if I were you.”

Kaylie gave me a nervous look. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“I was teasing you.”

“Oh.” Kaylie found a chair by the window and I swung Whitney up into the elephant chair to get a close-up of the damages. Whoa. One side of her hair was choppy but the other side was almost bald. Any shorter and she’d look like she was on her way to boot camp.

“What’s wrong?” Kaylie was on her feet in a flash, panic making her eyes the size of cupcakes.

“Nothing.” I flashed her my confidant stylist smile. The one that said I was one with my scissors.

She dragged her hair across the birthmark and twisted it around her fingers. “I was supposed to be watching her but I was reading. Whit asked me if I wanted to play with her and I told her no.” It was obvious she regretted
that
decision. “The next thing I knew, she dumped a handful of…hair…on my book.”

“I did the same thing to my hair when I was about her age,” I said. “And to three of the girls in my playgroup.” And Mom had the pictures to prove it.

“My mom is going to kill me,” Kaylie moaned. “Will it grow out by the time school starts? Picture day is the first week.”

By my estimation, Whitney’s hair would be two inches long by the end of August. Maybe three. I didn’t tell Kaylie this. It fell in the TMI category. Too much information. “Everyone’s hair grows at a different rate.” That was safe.

Whitney hummed happily while I worked out my strategy. She hadn’t left me much to work with but I evened it out the best I could.

Kaylie inched her way over again. “What can you do to the other side?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

She looked terrified. “Nothing?”

“There’s no hair there to do anything with,” I pointed out gently. “Little kids and scissors. This happens all the time. Last week a mom brought in her six-year-old who’d poured red food coloring on her hair because she was pretending she was a movie star.”