“Thanks,” I told her. “I think I’m okay.”
Gina stood and leaned down to take my arm and help me up, even though I felt fine again. “Did you want to go home and rest?” she asked me. “I can call your grandmother to have Arthur come get you.”
I was surprised that she knew Arthur, but then, maybe Grandmother had mentioned him over the years. “I really am fine now,” I told her.
She studied me for a moment.
“You do look better. At least you’ve got color back in your cheeks. Why don’t you come over to my chair and sit awhile, though, okay? We can play with your hair, and if you start to feel dizzy again, you tell me and we’ll send for Arthur.”
“Okay,” I said, allowing her to lead me over to a mirror.
After easing me into a seat and sending Rebecca to get me a smock, Gina began to run her fingers through my hair and asked me what I had in mind.
I told her that I just wanted to add some highlights, and I watched in the mirror as her lips pursed in a way that said she might have other ideas.
“You know,” she said, “this style isn’t doing you any favors. Have you always worn it so long without layers?”
I gulped and nodded. My hair was down to the middle of my back and I’d always worn it like that; one length, no bangs, and long. I had a feeling she wanted me to let her change it, and change can be hard for me. Plus, I’d had so much of that lately.
Gina must’ve picked up on my reservations because she said, “Lily, you have a lot of things going for you—these cheekbones, that gorgeous skin, those bright-green eyes—but this cut and this color isn’t showing any of that off. If you’ll trust me, I promise to turn you into a goddess. I swear; I’m good.”
There was just something about how confident she sounded, because in the next moment I heard myself consenting. “Okay. If you promise.”
She beamed at me. “Just wait till you see yourself, honey.”
With that, she gave me a pat and told me she was off to mix up some color. I was left to stare at the now entirely empty salon. And then I remembered what Rebecca had said, that the placed closed at seven. Immediately, I felt ashamed as it dawned on me that Grandmother had probably thrown her weight around to get Gina to agree to see me tonight. I should’ve taken the opportunity to leave when Gina had offered it, if for no other reason than to spare her from working past closing.
When Gina came back with a roller table topped with bowls of dark hair color and brushes, I was quick to apologize.
“I’m really sorry about the time. I didn’t realize you’d have to work late to see me.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she said easily as she swirled the color around with one of the brushes.
“My grandmother is pretty used to getting her way,” I said a little bitterly.
Gina stopped swirling, looked at me, and said, “I owe your grandmother a tremendous debt of gratitude, Lily. It was nothing to accommodate you after all she’s done for me.”
I attempted a smile. It felt like I’d overstepped. “Sorry,” I said.
She laughed. “There’s no reason to be sorry, honey. I know how Maureen can be. Hell, I’ve been doing her hair for thirty-five years so I know all the stuff she pulls when she wants something her way.”
I fell silent after that, wondering what debt of gratitude Gina owed my grandmother.
“I guess I’ve just never seen her be kind,” I said. Maybe that was bold of me, but it was true.
Gina, however, was nodding as she swept the cool color through my hair.
“I’ve only seen her express some genuine kindness once,” she said. “But it was the most incredible gift anyone had ever given me, and it came at a time when I needed it most.”
Silence followed as I mulled that over, curious. Finally, I worked up the courage and asked. “What was it? What’d she do?”
Gina exhaled. “She was there for me when my daughter died,” she said. “At a time when no one else in this damn town showed me any sympathy, your grandmother was there for me. She probably even saved my life.”
“Wow,” I said, stunned. I couldn’t understand how anyone could deny a grieving mother some sympathy. “I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“Me, too, honey.”
I searched for something appropriate to say. Nothing came to me. “How old was she?”
“Eighteen.”
That shocked me. I’d imagined a toddler or an infant, not a girl my age.
“What happened?” I asked, knowing I was probably out of line, but unable to resist the temptation to know.
Gina smoothed the brush over more of my hair with an almost cool detachment.
“She was murdered,” she said.
I put a hand to my mouth. “Oh, Gina…” I said, now really ashamed of myself. “I’m…that’s…God, I’m so sorry!”
How was it possible that this small, quaint town had seen so much violence? This was the second murder I’d heard about in just a few hours.
“It’s okay,” Gina said, lifting her gaze to look at me. “Really. I’ve had thirty years to get strong enough to talk about it.”
“Did they catch who did it?”
“No,” she said. “They never did.”
She didn’t elaborate any further, and I let the topic drop. No way was I gonna press her for more details, and I still felt bad for even bringing it up. And yet, I wondered what specifically it was that my grandmother had done for Gina during that time.
“I’m really glad my grandmother was there for you,” I said at last.
A faint, sad smile played at the corners of Gina’s lips. “Maureen used to come to my home, you know. After my daughter died, I was so depressed I spent nearly a year in bed. I lost my salon, my husband left me, and all my clients found other stylists to do their hair, and I didn’t even care. And then one day your grandmother shows up at my door, demanding that I get out of bed and do her hair.”
My mouth fell open, but Gina laughed and shook her head.
“She saved my life,” she said. “I mean, that day I wanted to sock her in the mouth, but she acted like barging into my home and demanding I take care of her was her God-given right as a Bennett. So, just to shut her up and get her out of my house, I did her hair. It came out awful, but she went on and on about how gorgeous she looked, and then she left.
“The next day, one of her friends from that snooty country club shows up and says that she’s got some sort of hair emergency. And the next day, two more friends of hers came by. Pretty soon, I didn’t go a day without doing some friend of Maureen’s, and then after about two months of that, she presented me with a deed to this place.”
“She gave you this shop?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine Grandmother being so generous—unless of course there were strings attached.
“She did,” Gina said, but then laughed again. “Oh, it didn’t look like this, though. No, it looked like something that should’ve been condemned. It was an old house that’d been commercially zoned before the last tenants abandoned it, and Maureen said she wanted it off her books because she couldn’t sell it or rent it out, so she deeded it over to me. After seeing it for the first time, I didn’t think it was much of a gift, but Maureen called me the next morning and said some people were waiting for me here. When I arrived, there were two trucks fully loaded with supplies, from paint to tile to drywall, and a crew of volunteers to help me whip this place into shape. It took a long time to fix it up, but all that hard work was really good for me. It helped me through the grief and gave me my life back.”
Gina’s story stunned me in a way that made me feel ashamed all over again. Had I pegged my grandmother all wrong?
Gina switched the topic over to me, asking me about Richmond and school there, and I found myself telling her things that normally I’d keep private. I confessed to losing both my best friend and my boyfriend at the end of the previous year, and she was nicely sympathetic. She also told me to hang in there at my new school.
“It might take a week or two, Lily, but the kids will warm up to you. I promise.”
By the end of my appointment, I felt better than I had in a long time. There was just something about being in Gina’s presence that soothed me. It struck me how like Mom she was—gentle and kind, but strong and determined.
When she turned me around for the final reveal, however, my jaw dropped and I stared at my reflection, almost unable to process it.
Gina had taken my ash-blond hair and turned it a chestnut brown with light auburn highlights that framed my face. She’d cut a good eight inches off the length, which had brought back some of my natural wave, and she’d added layers and bangs. I hardly recognized myself.
“Oh…my…God!” I gasped. I looked amazing. Like, seriously, the best I’d ever looked in my whole life.
Behind me Gina beamed. “You’re a knockout, sweetheart, and now all those gorgeous features aren’t hidden and they can come shining through.”
“I can’t believe I look like this,” I said, running a hand through my hair and turning my head from side to side. I felt like a movie star. Whipping out my phone, I indulged in a selfie, immediately posting it to my Instagram account.
“Take that, Sophie,” I said meanly. But there was also that accompanying pang, because I knew that she would’ve raved about the new me. Still, I told myself that it was a good thing to show her that I was moving on without her. To show her that I didn’t need her. Or miss her. Even if that wasn’t exactly true, it was still the message I wanted to send.
As I sat and thought about all that, I saw someone heart my photo, but I didn’t recognize the name. It felt a little creepy, so I clicked off the image and immediately realized that Gina was waiting.
“Sorry,” I said with an embarrassed blush.
“Oh, honey, take all the time you need. There’s a hamper behind that curtain to throw your smock in. I’ll call Arthur and tell him to pick you up.”
“Thanks, Gina,” I said. I couldn’t wait to get home and show Mom. I moved into the area behind the curtain and there was a small dressing room there. I heard Gina on the phone as I came back out and casually walked around the salon, noticing how cozy it was. Here and there were some personal touches that really made it feel more like a home than a salon.
“Come on, girl,” Gina said, calling to me. “Arthur’s going to be here in twenty minutes, which is enough time for us to have a snack.”
Leading me through a corridor toward the back of the salon, Gina opened a door with a key. I figured she was taking me outside, but instead, when she opened the door, I realized that it was actually her home.
The door opened to a whole new space, with a living room, kitchen, and bedroom off to the side. It mirrored the salon in style, but the palette was softer, less harsh, done in a dusky rose with a tan trim.
“Wow,” I said, coming through the door. “You live here?”
“I do.”
I walked into her living room and took it all in. There was a seating area done in rich mocha, and a shaggy white rug, which was a beautiful contrast to the dark-brown floors. Everywhere I looked, there were artistic touches that seemed to fit the space perfectly. Gina invited me to sit at the counter in her small kitchen, which had a white-and-black marble countertop and bright-white cabinets.
“I love your place,” I said as I sat.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to the fridge. “I’ve got veggies and hummus, will that do?”
“Sure,” I said.
“How about iced tea or cranberry juice for something to drink?”
“Cranberry juice, please.”
Gina set out my drink first, then busied herself with the veggies and hummus, and I leaned toward a series of frames on her counter. One was a photograph of another woman who looked similar to Gina—I guessed it was a sister. Another was a framed prayer that talked about grace and forgiveness, and a third was tucked a little bit behind the others. Curious, I reached out and nudged it forward. When it came fully into view, my grip loosened and the glass of cranberry juice slipped through my fingers. I tried to grab it again and managed only to prevent it from shattering, but all the cranberry juice spewed out onto the counter, the chair, the floor, and me.
“Ohmigod!” I cried, mortified that I’d been so clumsy. “Ohmigod, Gina, I’m sooooo sorry!”
She was next to me with a wad of paper towels in an instant. “Don’t sweat it, honey,” she said calmly.
I stood there, hunched over and dripping, and my mind seemed to blank on how to help. “I…I…I…” I stammered.
Gina mopped at the mess, then stood up to get a garbage can and the whole roll of paper towels. “Lily, really, it’s just a little juice and it cleans up quick. We’re lucky the cup didn’t break or you might’ve gotten cut.”
Tears blurred my vision. Here she’d been so nice to me, and I’d made a total mess of her kitchen—and even though she was saying it was no big deal, I knew it was. “I’m really sorry,” I whispered.
Gina paused to look at me. “Lily,” she said gently. “It’s just juice. It’s okay. I promise. Now, why don’t you head down the hall to the bathroom and use one of the washcloths in the basket to clean yourself up. You’ll be a sticky mess on the drive home, otherwise.”
I was breathing hard and still unsure, but at last I managed to turn and do as she instructed. After closing the door to the bathroom, I sat on the rim of the tub and covered my face with my hands. I was so rattled and upset, and not just about making a mess. When I’d first looked at the photograph on the counter, I’d been stunned to see that it was a photo of me. I’d been weirdly dressed, and my hair was totally different, but I swore it was me pictured there, and then I’d felt the glass slipping out of my hand and I’d blinked and the image had been replaced by someone else—a girl about my age—and as all the synapses in my brain had been firing, I’d known that she was Gina’s daughter. But the really weird thing was that I’d also known her name as clearly as I knew my own. I knew that her name was Amber.
With a deep breath I got up from the tub and moved to the sink to stare at my reflection. What the hell was happening to me? Why was I having all this crazy déjà vu? And how did I know names of people I’d never even met? Yeah, I’d gotten Cole’s middle name instead of his first name right, but still…Spence wasn’t a common name. How had I pulled that out of thin air? And why was I so sure that Gina’s daughter’s name was Amber?
I shook my head. I was being stupid. Of course her name wasn’t Amber. And then another thought occurred to me. Hadn’t Cole’s uncle been murdered by his girlfriend whose name was Amber?
Sweat broke out across my palms. Could it be the same girl? But the paper had said that Amber committed suicide, not that she’d been murdered. And how could the girl from the article be Gina’s daughter? I mean, that really would be a freaky coincidence. Wouldn’t it?
“Only one way to find out,” I whispered. After hurrying to clean myself up, I stepped back out to the kitchen. Gina was rinsing her hands under the faucet and no sign of the mess I’d created remained. “Again, I’m so sorry,” I said.
She shut off the faucet and turned to me as she wiped her hands. “Sweetie, after you’ve had a life like mine, you learn not to sweat the small stuff.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I still feel bad.”
“Well, don’t. Now, have a seat and try my hummus. I make it myself.”
I nibbled at a little pita bread dipped in the hummus, and it was, in fact, delicious. “Gina?” I said carefully as she sat down next to me.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask…what was your daughter’s name?”
Gina’s gaze moved to the set of framed photographs next to me. “Amber,” she said. “Her name was Amber.”
I blinked. I’d been right. For a moment I wondered if maybe I was developing some sort of psychic ability. I mean, all of the day’s coincidences just seemed so freaky to me. But wouldn’t I know other things besides just a name or two? Wou
ldn’t I have visions of events that had yet to happen?
I had no idea how that stuff worked, and I was on the fence about whether or not I believed in it, but no other explanation came to me to account for pulling out two random and somewhat unique names associated with two people I’d never met before.
As I pondered that, the doorbell rang and Gina hopped off her chair. “That’ll be Arthur.”
I followed her back out to the salon, and she undid the lock for me. Arthur stood by the car, holding the back door open. I turned to Gina to say good-bye, but she beat me to it.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Lily,” she said.
“Thank you,” I told her.
And then I did something that was totally unlike me, and impulsive, and…well…weird. I reached out and hugged her. She gave a startled laugh, but she hugged me back, and as she did so a wave of sadness overtook me that I couldn’t explain. It came out of nowhere. I felt my eyes well up, and as I hugged Gina, I had the urge to hold on tight and never let go. She laughed again and patted my back, obviously a little thrown by how fiercely I was hugging her.
Feeling a fresh blush touch my cheeks, I said, “I should go….I’m sorry…I…” and then I simply pulled away and ran for the car.
SPENCE’S CAR RUMBLED A LITTLE in protest as he pulled to a stop in front of my house. He’d asked me to come be his good luck charm at the varsity football game, and then we’d hung out with our friends in the parking lot of the local Burger King afterward. By the time we got back to my house, it was late, but still a few minutes before my curfew, and I glanced nervously toward the front window, hoping neither of my parents were peeking out to spy on us.
This was the third time Spence and I had been out together, and we still hadn’t done more than share a light kiss good night. I’d been hoping for more. I longed to feel his lips linger on mine, to feel his arms embrace me, to melt under his touch, but none of that had happened yet, and it was causing a mounting frustration, not to mention making me feel a little insecure. I was beginning to wonder if Spence actually liked me, or if he was already losing interest.