“Marilyn?”
“Yes, that’s Martha’s daughter’s name.”
“She’s fabulous. The salon is across the street from the bakery and next to the Veterans of Foreign Wars post; you won’t be able to miss it.”
Ellie was glad to hear it. Her sense of direction wasn’t the best. “Do you know if Marilyn takes walk-ins, or should I call and make an appointment first?”
Jo Marie bit into her bottom lip. “I’ve always made an appointment, but I believe she takes walk-ins as well.”
“I guess I’ll find out.”
“If you need to wait, do it. Marilyn’s worth it.”
“Thanks. I will.” Ellie started to leave and then stopped. “I was thinking of changing my hairstyle.”
“Change it how?” Jo Marie asked, cocking her head to one side as if looking at her with fresh eyes. “It suits you the way you wear it now.”
“I’m looking for sexy,” Ellie explained with a soft laugh. “Alluring and glamorous.”
“You’re all that and more already.”
The innkeeper’s words were sincere and took Ellie by surprise. She thanked her and then headed out the door. She walked down the very hill she had climbed shortly after her arrival. She’d crossed Harbor Street then and gone directly toward the waterfront, exploring the park and strolling along the marina, admiring the overflowing hanging flower baskets that lined the sidewalk. The wire-framed baskets were a colorful arrangement of summer flowers in yellow, red, and white. On this second trip onto Harbor Street, instead of heading toward the marina, she went left and down the city walkway. It didn’t take her long to find Marilyn’s, the hair boutique the woman on the bus had mentioned.
The salon was bustling. It seemed every chair was filled, every seat taken. Ellie almost turned around and walked out—clearly, Marilyn did a lively business and it wasn’t likely she had an opening, especially on Friday afternoon on such short notice—but the receptionist looked up just then and caught Ellie’s eye.
“Can I help you?” the blond woman asked, her smile warm and welcoming.
“I’m in town … meeting a friend, and I wondered if by chance there was an opening for this afternoon.”
“Are you looking for a haircut or a shampoo and set?” the receptionist asked.
“Actually, I’m not sure.” Ellie’s fingers went to her hair, pulling it forward as if the thick locks would offer a suggestion. “I’ve worn my hair exactly like this since I was in third grade. What I’m looking for is a new look.”
“Well”—the other woman placed her pencil sideways in her mouth and stared at the computer screen—“Marilyn would be the best one for the job, but I know she’s booked solid today. She wanted to leave a bit early this afternoon.”
Ellie knew the reason. “Her mother’s just arrived and she’s probably looking forward to visiting with her.”
The receptionist looked up, surprise written on her face.
“I met Martha on the bus driving in from the airport. She’s the one who mentioned Marilyn’s to me and suggested I stop by.”
“You know Martha?”
“Not really,” Ellie clarified. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression. “Marilyn’s mother sat in the seat across from me.”
The receptionist raised her index finger. “Let me talk to Marilyn a moment.” She left the area and walked over to one of the stylist’s stations. Marilyn was working on a woman who was having her hair colored. The woman in the chair had her hair sectioned off and secured with large clips. Marilyn stood next to her, wearing rubber gloves and holding onto a squeeze bottle filled with the hair dye.
Ellie couldn’t hear what was being said, but whatever it was caused Marilyn to turn away and glance in Ellie’s direction. Ellie resisted the urge to hold up her palm and wave.
Marilyn said something to the receptionist, who nodded and then returned to Ellie. “She said she’ll do it.”
“She will?” Ellie felt like cheering.
“She needs to finish the color job on Mrs. Weaver first, and—”
“I’ll gladly wait,” Ellie said, cutting her off. Two of the chairs in the waiting area had been vacated by the time she finished at the reception desk. She claimed one and reached for a copy of People magazine, flipping through the pages. Halfway through a second gossip magazine, the receptionist returned.
“Marilyn is ready for you now.”
Surprised, Ellie looked up. “Oh.” It seemed hardly any time had passed. She replaced the magazine and then followed the other woman to the far end of the salon.
Marilyn was a petite woman with frosted brown hair and steel-gray eyes. “You must be Ellie,” she said, reaching for the plastic cape.
“I am.” She thought it was a nice touch for the receptionist to mention her name.
“I was telling the woman at the desk that I met your mother this morning on the bus from Sea-Tac Airport,” Ellie explained.
“Mom mentioned you.”
“She did?” Ellie didn’t bother to hide her surprise.
“I called at noon to check on them. Cameron, my son, was thrilled to pick her up. I wanted to make sure he hadn’t frightened Mom half to death. He only got his driver’s license recently,” she added. “Mom told me all about your chat.”
Ellie had appreciated the older woman’s words of advice. “Your mother is wise and wonderful.”
Marilyn smiled. “I think so, too. I’d hoped to leave a bit early today, but when I tell Mom I’m later than expected because you stopped by, she’ll understand.”
“She’s the one who mentioned your salon. She talked about you with real pride.”
Marilyn shook her head and grinned. “That sounds like Mom. You’d think I was the hair stylist to the stars to hear her speak.” She wrapped the plastic cape around Ellie’s shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair. Apparently, she liked what she saw. “Your hair is healthy, good and thick.”
“I know.” It sometimes took as long as twenty minutes to blow it dry.
“Monica said you’re looking for something new.”
“Yes, please.”
“You’d look great with an inverted bob.” Once more, Marilyn riffled her fingers through the hair at the back of Ellie’s head.
“I like that style … but I don’t know how it would be on me.”
Marilyn stepped back. “The nice thing about hair is that it grows. If you find you don’t like the cut, then give it a few weeks. My guess is that you’re going to love it.” She draped a towel over Ellie’s shoulders and led her to the shampoo bowl.
Forty minutes later, Ellie stared at her reflection in the mirror and couldn’t believe the difference a simple haircut could make.
“What did I tell you?” Marilyn gloated. “You’re an entirely new woman.”
“That’s exactly how I feel.” When Ellie had stepped into the salon, she hadn’t believed this kind of transformation was even possible. It embarrassed her that she couldn’t stop staring at her reflection in the mirror.
“It’s going to be easy to manage, too,” Marilyn promised.
Ellie paid the bill and left a generous tip for Marilyn before she left.
“Mom said you’re a special young woman, and she was right,” Marilyn said, as she walked Ellie to the door. “Good luck meeting your young man.”
“Thank you. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Life has a way of working out for the best,” the stylist said, and gave Ellie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. She removed her apron and said, “Now I’m off to enjoy a long-overdue visit with my mother.”
Ellie wished her own relationship with her mother was as emotionally healthy as the one Martha and Marilyn shared.
Walking back to the inn, Ellie found herself humming a song she’d heard on the radio. She couldn’t remember the words, but the music had stayed with her. It felt as if her life had become a song. Tom had done that for her. It didn’t seem possible that she could or even should feel this strongly abo
ut a man she hadn’t met in the traditional way.
The thing was, she knew Tom. They might never have met in person, but it felt as if she’d known him her entire life. They shared a closeness, an easy intimacy. He might never have held or kissed her, but she swore she knew what it would be like to feel his arms around her and the taste of his lips on hers.
Whoa, she was getting ahead of herself. Way ahead.
Jo Marie was still working in her kitchen when Ellie returned. She glanced at her and said, “Can I help …” For one short second she stared. “Ellie, is that really you?”
She lifted her hand toward her head. “Do you like it?”
“I didn’t recognize you at first. This is an amazing transformation. Unbelievable.”
Ellie was thrilled by the innkeeper’s reaction. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“I do, but, more important, do you?”
“I love it. Marilyn was great. She took one look at me and knew right away what style would best suit me. I wasn’t sure if I’d like my hair stacked in the back like this, you know … cut in layers.”
Jo Marie ran her hand along the smooth edge of the back. “It looks amazing.”
“Thanks so much …” Ellie said. “I guess I should go get changed. I bought a new outfit for my first date with Tom.”
Ellie headed up the stairs to get ready, butterflies exploding in her stomach. This time would be different. In fact, she had the feeling it might end up being the most romantic night of her life.
Tom was different. She’d felt it almost from the first moment when they’d started communicating online. One thing was sure: Ellie wasn’t about to let her mother’s fears ruin this relationship.
The short conversation with Tom lingered in her mind. He’d wanted to say something, wanted her to make him a promise, but had stopped before he could ask. Ellie could only wonder what had held him back. Well, no worries there. She’d find out soon enough.
Chapter 7
After lunch, Maggie and Roy decided to take a walk along Harbor Street. When they’d left Rose Harbor Inn for lunch she’d noticed a number of antiques shops along the main street of the town and wanted to investigate.
“Would you mind checking out a couple of the stores?” Maggie asked her husband.
“Sure,” he said, readily agreeing. “Who knows, we might find priceless canning jars or a discarded yarn project that’s half knit.”
Maggie glanced at him to be sure he was joking, and when she saw his smile, she returned it with one of her own. Shopping was one of his least favorite ways to spend time, but his willingness showed her that he was doing his best to recapture what they’d lost over the last few years. “I enjoy looking at old buttons.”
“Buttons?”
“Some of the older buttons from the 1960s and before are lovely. I especially like the pearl ones.”
“When I was a kid I used to collect baseball cards,” Roy mentioned. “If I’d kept them, they’d probably be worth a fortune now.”
He was right. “What became of them?”
He shrugged. “I don’t remember. I traded off a few when I was twelve or thirteen and kept the rest in an old cigar box I got from my grandfather. I haven’t thought about them in years. I haven’t got a clue where they went.”
As they walked down the hill, Roy reached for her hand, gripping it in his own. The simple gesture was like healing salve on a throbbing burn.
Even now Maggie wasn’t sure how their marriage could have taken such a drastic detour when they continued to love each other. It had hit her all over again at lunch how far apart they’d grown. When Roy had suggested they leave the boys out of the conversation, she’d been shocked to realize they had nothing left to say to each other.
Finally, Roy talked about the job that had demanded so much of his time. She noticed how careful he was to avoid the subject of Katherine. The other woman, a high school flame, held a job with one of his plumbing suppliers. That was how they’d connected on Facebook and become “friends” again. Maggie was convinced it’d all started out innocent enough, at least in the beginning.
She stopped herself, refusing to dwell on Katherine. Roy had severed the relationship and she had to learn to trust him again in the same way that he had to put his trust back in her.
Still, the entire time he talked about the construction project, Maggie felt a burning sensation close to her heart. Her husband hadn’t been unfaithful, at least not in the physical sense. But Katherine and Roy were emotionally involved, texting and communicating day after day, meeting for drinks and exchanging sexually explicit emails. It was when she found the emails that Maggie had blown up. The most painful one suggested Maggie was a cold fish in bed. Another was a cruel joke. How do you turn a fox into a cow? Marry her. Just thinking about the messages Maggie had read on his phone from the other woman was enough to fill her mouth with bile.
She couldn’t allow her mind to dwell on all the lonely nights she’d gone to bed by herself because her husband was busy with paperwork or other business. He didn’t have time to talk to her, but he’d spent copious amounts of time flirting with another woman. It hadn’t gotten to the point of being physical, but it was clear to Maggie that that was exactly where the relationship was headed. Far too clear.
“I’m enjoying quilting,” she’d told him at lunch. No doubt he found the subject of little interest, but he’d listened politely and suggested that for Christmas she might like a new sewing machine. She appreciated the offer and the fact that he felt their marriage would survive until the holidays.
The bile didn’t settle well, and she had to deal with heartburn. The acid built up in her as they strolled down Harbor Street. “I need an antacid,” she said, and noticed a pharmacy located a block down on the corner. “It must have been the grease from the fish.”
They walked to the end of the street and went inside together. While she searched the aisle for what she needed, Roy looked over the magazine rack where the novels were positioned and picked out a paperback thriller by one of his favorite authors.
“I can’t remember the last time I got involved in a book,” he said. “The one I brought with me is months old, and I’ve forgotten the storyline.”
Actually, she’d been thinking the same thing. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him reading, or doing anything that didn’t involve his job. “That’s part of the problem, don’t you think?”
He frowned, as if the comment confused him. “Not reading?”
“Not taking time for ourselves.” She didn’t for herself, either. It was difficult, especially with two young boys who were constantly in need of care and attention.
“You quilt.”
“That helps keep me sane.” She had a minimum of an hour every afternoon while the boys went down for a nap, but Jaxon was fast outgrowing nap time. He’d start kindergarten in another month. The plan was for Maggie to find part-time employment once both boys were in school full-time. It wasn’t necessary for the money as much as her emotional well-being. While Maggie enjoyed her role as a wife and mother, she needed to get out of the house and socialize with other women and develop her own interests.
Part of the problem, she realized, was that Roy didn’t seem to understand or appreciate the role she had in their home. They’d once had a tremendous argument because he’d needed her to return a pair of jeans for him. She hadn’t found the time. She’d been on the run all day. Collin had a dentist appointment, Jaxon’s preschool needed cupcakes for a bake sale, and it was her turn with the car pool. She hadn’t gotten groceries in two weeks. When Roy discovered she hadn’t returned his jeans for the right size, he’d demanded to know what she’d done all day. To hear him talk, she’d been lying around the house eating chocolate-dipped strawberries all afternoon.
Again she forced herself to stop focusing her attention on the negative. It seemed her mind automatically lingered on old hurts. This was supposed to be a time to heal and rebuild, not stew over past slights or misunde
rstandings.
Maggie stepped to the counter and paid for their purchases. Right away she chewed two antacids.
As they exited the small pharmacy, Roy pointed down the street. “That shop looks interesting.”
“It does,” she agreed. This was exactly the kind of antiques store she enjoyed exploring most. The window display was of blue glass from the time of the Depression. No doubt it was priced beyond what she’d be comfortable paying.
“Look at that Star Wars lunch box,” Roy said, pointing toward a second window display. “I had one just like that when I was in school.”
“It’s hard to think of it as an antique, isn’t it?” she teased.
“I’m too young to be considered an antique,” he insisted, shaking his head as if to dispel the thought.
“Way too young,” she agreed, and resisted squeezing his cheek. “You’ve still got a baby face.”
He rewarded her with a smile. “And you don’t look a day over thirty.”
“I’m barely thirty-three,” she reminded him.
“Really? I thought you were still thirty-one.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.”
“So I’ve heard.” As quickly as it came, the humor left his voice and he looked away. Oh, she’d had fun, all right, and turned up missing for nearly twenty hours. Tit for tat.
It appeared her husband held onto old hurts as well. Perhaps it was unavoidable, seeing the hit their marriage had taken. First Roy and then her. These missteps had the potential to destroy them both, if they let them. Neither of them wanted a divorce, if for no other reason than their children. The key was in their ability to learn how to forgive. Try as she might, Maggie wasn’t sure that was possible.
“Let’s go inside,” Roy suggested, and held the door open.
They were both trying, Maggie realized. Trying hard. Perhaps too hard. It was possible that they might never be able to recapture what they’d lost.
Mentally she shook her head, refusing to give in to negative thinking. No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow that to happen. Roy was her husband, the father of her children, and she was determined to fight to keep her marriage intact. They’d both made huge mistakes, but they’d vowed to start again and she wouldn’t allow petty grievances to sabotage their intentions.