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Sidney looked at Irene with gentle frustration. He had already resolved not to yell at her, but that did not stop the persistent irritation that had grown since her arrival at his barbershop this morning.
“You really don’t have to be here,” he said to her. “I thought we agreed we would wait until after the wedding before you started working here again.”
“Yes, but I know you need the help,” said Irene. She brushed her tongue over her lips and Sidney’s midsection grew warm. “I’m sorry about the cologne. I promise to be more careful in the future.”
It was the third bottle she had broken since arriving in Elmwood, and the entire barbershop now stank of it. Luckily, it was one of his more popular scents and would not keep the customers away. At this point, he was not sure what would keep them away.
Mr. Farley, a seventy-year-old man who’d been a barber almost all his life, had retired from his shop two months before. With no sons to take over his business, he’d sold his shop and told his customers to give Sidney’s place a chance, then he’d sailed on a ship to some far-off island where he said he intended to lie in the sun all day surrounded by beautiful women.
Mr. Farley’s customers, who were as loyal as they came, had taken his recommendation to heart, and Sidney’s place had not stopped booming since. He now thought it a lucky thing that chance had recommended himself to Mr. Farley when there were at least three other barbershops in town.
Perhaps the day Sidney had found Mr. Farley’s wallet lying in the street almost a year ago and returned it to him had been fate. Perhaps Belle’s being back in Elmwood was fate as well, though he didn’t know what fate had in mind by playing such a trick on him.
Irene was still looking at him as though waiting for an answer to some question she had asked that he had not heard. “All right,” he said, hoping his response was the correct one. “Why don’t you work at the register for a while and I’ll handle the cologne from now on?”
She nodded, eager to please him, which he found endearing. He returned to his customers as Irene took a seat behind the register and began to wonder if he might need to hire a second barber as well as an assistant.
Too bad Emile was an apothecary and not a barber; otherwise, they could have run the place together. He would also have been happy to have one of his cousins, either Booker or Amos, there with him, but he was quite certain neither wanted to leave their own professions—banker and sheriff—to cut hair.
Leonard Overton, Amos’ head deputy, was seated in a chair. “How would you like your hair cut?” Sidney asked him.
Leonard shrugged. “Just neat and tidy, I guess.” Leonard was twenty-two and had only recently begun to look his age. He’d always appeared older than his years, brought on mostly because of his weight, which had been far above average, and his height, which was still only average.
He’d never been an exceedingly handsome man, though he’d always been thought of as one of the friendliest people in town. Then about six months ago, something had happened to change Leonard. The man’s weight had suddenly taken a steady decline, and his somewhat ruddy complexion had evened out to a nice, light tan.
People in town had taken notice, especially the women, though no one was exactly certain what had caused the change in him. People saw him running through town in casual clothes “for fun,” as he said. When he went out to eat, he ordered half his usual plate. Muscles had developed where none had ever been before, and he even began to appear taller.
Jack Weaver said that was an illusion—the thinner he got, the taller he seemed even though his height was the same as it had always been. Though Sidney was sure Jack was right, he could not help wondering what had suddenly come over the man to make him change his lifestyle so dramatically. His handsomeness was no longer in question, and when he asked Sidney to make his hair neat and tidy now, Sidney thought the task an easy accomplishment, for any grease once contained in it was gone.
The cash register rang as the client he’d just finished with paid Belle. He shot her a glance and saw that she appeared to be well settled on her stool. He would leave her at the register for a while, perhaps even all day. It was probably the safest place for her, given her clumsy streak.
The door chimed, and Sidney looked toward it, afraid it was Belle, but it was only another man come in for a shave. He hadn’t seen Belle for two days, but he was afraid she might appear again at any moment. Sidney had not told Irene that it had been her who had recovered her purse, only a customer. She had been so happy to get it back that she’d hugged him, and he’d felt her firm bosom press against his chest. It had felt nice, but not as good as he had thought it would.
He didn’t know what was the matter with him. He’d not asked Irene about the money even though he’d been burning with curiosity over it. He did not want her to know that he had seen the contents of her purse. And he could not stop thinking about Belle and the argument they’d had. She was a pain in his neck, yet her absence these last two days disturbed him even more than her presence did.
There was some dark part of him that needed to see Belle regularly, to know what she was doing, what she was thinking, what she was planning. His head told him over and over again that he ought to avoid her at all costs, but his heart continued to tell him otherwise, and he could not decide who was right.
Sidney almost cut off a hunk of Leonard’s hair, his mind had drifted so much, and he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He looked around for the styling spray he kept in his green bottle and did not see it anywhere, then recollected he’d left it in the back room. He’d made it himself out of some pomade and water and a few other things, and found it a suitable substitute for men who wished to avoid pomade, as he knew Leonard did, but still wanted their hair to appear stylish.
He looked over at Irene, who had no customers to ring at the moment and was looking rather bored, and asked her to go and fetch it for him. She happily agreed and hurried to the back room. He waited for the sound of the glass bottle crashing to the floor and was pleasantly surprised when she handed it to him without incident.
He sprayed it on Leonard’s hair and felt his nose begin to burn. Leonard let out a small cry and wiped at his eyes with his hands. Sidney looked at him and saw that his eyes were watering and turning red. His own nose continued to burn, and he looked down at the bottle in his hands, realizing far too late that it was the blue bottle that Irene had handed him and not the green.
“My eyes,” Leonard said, blinking rapidly. “What is that stuff?” His entire face was turning pink now.
Sidney forced himself to remain calm. “It’s one of my cleaning solutions,” he said. Leonard’s eyes widened. “No harm will come to you, but we must rinse your hair.” He led him to the sink, lifting a bucket of water over his head as he leaned back.
Irene watched on in horrified silence.
“I thought you said the blue bottle,” she said, her voice small.
“I said the green,” Sidney told her through tight teeth. Her face was so horror-struck though that he hadn’t the heart to tell her. “Perhaps I did say blue. It may be my mistake.” He finished rinsing Leonard’s hair then put a hot towel over the man’s face.
He forced a smile at Irene. “Perhaps you should take a break. Didn’t Mrs. Dunford want to see you today? Our wedding is almost here; you ought to look after your dress more than this shop at present.”
Irene nodded, though she did not seem happy about it. “Mrs. Dunford did send a note my way this morning that she needed for me to stop by. She’d asked me to come before lunch, but I thought it better to help you here.”
“And you did, and I thank you. Now I think it’s best you see what Mrs. Dunford needed.”
“It’s probably just another fitting and won’t take long,” she said. “Should I return here when I’m through?”
“Why don’t you go back to Meadow’s and relax? I believe you’ve done enough for one day.”
When she was gone, the men in the shop, of which there were three or four, began to chatter about what a pretty woman she was and how lucky Sidney was to have found her. “Though I daresay you might want to consider getting yourself a different assistant,” said Murphy Giles. “That woman is certainly pretty to look at, but she’s not much of a helper.”
Leonard pulled the hot towel off his face and Sidney was happy to see his eyes were no longer a flaming red but a dull pink. “I second what Murphy said.”
Sidney sighed. “I’m sorry about my little mix-up, Leonard. I should have checked the bottles before spraying you.”
Leonard leaned back in his chair. “You asked her for the green bottle. I heard you.”
Sidney pressed his lips together. “I should have double-checked, either way.”
“Perhaps,” Leonard said, “but you shouldn’t have to check every little thing.” He paused. “I hear that Belle Reese has been going all over town looking for a job.”
Sidney blinked. “Belle? She wouldn’t want to work in a barbershop.” The idea was laughable and struck a painful chord with him.
“I don’t know,” said Leonard. “She checked in a haberdashery, so I’m not sure she has the luxury of being picky just now.”
Sidney shook his head. “Trust me, Belle wants nothing to do with my barbershop.” He turned around just then, his hands moving too quickly for the rest of his body and knocked the blue bottle of cleaner to the floor, where it broke into tiny pieces. The stench permeated the air, and his customers grimaced as their noses began to sting. Two of the men waiting walked right out.
Leonard wrinkled his face. “I’m afraid Irene’s rubbing off on you,” he said and got up. Sidney told him there was no charge, and he quickly ran out of the shop. The last man could stand it no longer, his eyes began to water, and he hurried out of there as well.
Sidney bent over the spill, cleaning it up with a rag and thinking that he needed to get himself a less potent solution with which to clean supplies. Emile could probably recommend something. By the time he was through, his own eyes were red and watery, and he had to step outside for fresh air, keeping the door open so that the place could air out.
He sighed as he considered what it might be like to have Belle around the shop all the time but shook the thought away just as quickly as it had come to him. After their last argument, he doubted she ever wanted to see him again. And he could not risk her being around him—not when his mind could not stay off of her soft lips and even softer curves—even if it meant suffering with Irene’s clumsiness... and his own.
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