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SNIP, SNIP, SNI—
“Oops,” Zoe muttered.
“Oops?” Lauren Crenshaw stared at her cousin in the bathroom mirror. Zoe’s brunette pixie-cut stood up in angsty little tufts. “What do you mean, ‘Oops’?”
“Brrt?” Annie, Lauren’s Norwegian Forest Cat, asked as well. The large silver-gray tabby peered at both of them inquisitively as she sat on the edge of the tub.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Zoe said, her brown-eyed gaze meeting Lauren’s in the mirror. Doubt flickered in her eyes, but then she pinned a smile on her face. “I watched a video online about how to cut hair. I’m sure it will turn out just fine.”
“What have you done?” Lauren felt the back of her head, her fingers searching for the freshly cut locks. She sucked in a breath, her eyes widening.
“I just took off a little more than I thought,” Zoe explained.
“But you know I’m going out with Mitch tonight!”
“I can fix it.” Zoe wielded the silver pair of scissors.
“No.” Lauren looked down at the floor, where half inch strands of light brown hair had fallen – apart from a piece that looked more like one inch. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“But you said your hair was getting too long, nearly touching your shoulders,” Zoe countered. “I thought this would be the perfect solution. Just a little trim before your date tonight.”
“I’ll have to wear my hair in a bun or a ponytail.” Lauren pulled her hair back and started twisting it into a knot. “If it’s long enough!” She looked at her cousin in panic.
“You could wear it short like me,” Zoe said heartily.
“Your style looks great on you,” Lauren spoke the truth, “but I don’t know if such a short cut would suit me. Besides, I’m used to wearing my hair like this, and I think Mitch likes it.” Heat warmed her cheeks as she mentioned her detective boyfriend.
“What do you think, Annie?” Zoe turned to the cat. “Should I even up Lauren’s hair?”
Annie’s green eyes widened as she stared at the scissors in Zoe’s hand.
“Brrt.” No.
“Huh.” Zoe sounded disappointed. “Well, there is a new hair stylist in town – I walked past the salon yesterday during my lunchbreak, but I don’t know if she’s open right now.”
“Let’s find out!” Lauren jumped up from the kitchen chair they’d dragged into the bathroom.
“I’m sure I could fix your hair,” Zoe muttered, as she followed Lauren and Annie.
The trio ran the Norwegian Forest Cat Café in Gold Leaf Valley, a small town in Northern California. Annie showed the customers to the table she chose for them, while Lauren made the cupcakes, and Zoe made lattes and cappuccinos alongside her cousin.
It had been a slow Thursday in January. It seemed most of their customers had decided to stay home on a cold day like today, so they’d decided to close thirty minutes early. Zoe had volunteered to give Lauren a little trim before her date tonight, and Lauren had warily accepted. Now she wished she hadn’t.
“Where’s the salon?” Lauren grabbed her car keys from the kitchen table.
“Where the old salon was,” Zoe replied, slinging a small black purse over her shoulder. “Sandra retired last month, and now someone else seems to have bought it.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Lauren’s brow cleared. “I’d heard that Sandra was going to live with her daughter in Arizona.”
“I hope she likes the heat in summer.” Zoe scrunched her nose.
“Brrt?” Annie asked as she watched them head toward the back door.
“We won’t be long,” Lauren told her. “I’m going to get my hair fixed.” She fingered a roughly chopped strand.
“Brrt!” Annie sounded approving.
“Everyone’s a critic,” Zoe grumbled as she followed her cousin out the door.
Lauren jumped into her white compact car and started the engine.
“I don’t want to waste time walking there in case she closes soon,” she explained as she drove down the street.
“I really thought I could cut your hair,” Zoe told her earnestly.
“I know.” Lauren smiled briefly at her.
Zoe had a good heart and a positive attitude that could be infectious. She was also impulsive at times, but Lauren knew her actions came from a good place.
“She’s open!” Lauren snagged a parking spot right outside the small salon. The street was nearly deserted in the waning daylight, but the lights were on in the shop.
Lauren rushed inside, not even waiting for Zoe to join her.
She caught her breath in the reception area. A few comfortable looking chairs and a rack of magazines decorated the waiting area. Four stations with large mirrors, and a shampoo station made up the rest of the space.
“Hi.” A slim girl maybe a couple of years older than Lauren’s twenty-six left a customer with a plastic cap on her hair and came to the counter. “May I help you?”
“Can you fix this?” Lauren held out the offending shorter strands at the back of her head and turned around so the stylist could see.
“No problem.” The stylist smiled at her, looking neat and efficient in denim jeans and a black sweater. Her chestnut locks had attractive reddish highlights, cut in a long bob with feathered ends. The hair color flattered her friendly green eyes.
“Now?” Lauren asked hopefully.
“I cut it.” Zoe appeared by her side.
“It’s easy to fix,” the stylist told them. “I’m Brooke, by the way.”
Lauren and Zoe introduced themselves.
“I can neaten you up right away.” She gestured to Lauren to follow her to a station in front of a large mirror.
Lauren sank down on the black padded chair while Brooke wrapped a white cape around her.
A large hooded hair dryer hummed in the background, a woman sitting underneath it flicking through a magazine. She glanced up, then locked her gaze on the page once more.
“Thank you,” Lauren said in relief as Brooke fetched the scissors.
“It will only take a few minutes,” she told Lauren. “Unless you’d like me to give you some layers?”
“Umm ... no,” Lauren replied. “Not right now, I don’t think.” She’d worn her light brown hair just below her chin for a while now, and thought Mitch liked it this way. So did she.
“I love your subtle golden highlights,” Brooke said as she started snipping.
“Thanks,” Lauren replied. “They’re natural. I love your hair color, though.”
“The chestnut is real but I go to an amazing colorist in Sacramento,” Brooke replied. “I like coloring hair but she takes it to a whole new level. Let me know if you ever need her details.”
“Thanks.” Lauren smiled at Brooke in the mirror. “But isn’t recommending someone else bad for your business?”
“Probably.” Brooke nodded. “This is my first salon. I only opened yesterday. But I think honesty is best, especially in this profession.”
“I think the same.”
“Zoe’s haircut is really cute,” Brooke said, snipping away at the back of Lauren’s hair. “I like pixie cuts. Did Sandra do it?”
“No,” Lauren replied. “We usually get our hair cut in Sacramento on our day off.”
“What do you do?” Brooke looked interested.
Lauren told her about the café.
“Oh, I must visit,” Brooke said. “I love cats.”
“Are you a local?” Lauren asked.
“No, but I hope to be.” Brooke smiled at Lauren’s reflection. “I grew up in Sacramento. But when I found out that the owner was retiring and this place was for sale, I jumped at the chance.”
“There were always women getting their hair done here whenever I walked past,” Lauren told her.
“That’s good to know. I looked through the books but it’s nice to get an unbiased opinion.”
Brooke finished trimming Lauren’s hair, then gave it a quick blow dry.
“There,” she said with satisfaction as she handed Lauren a mirror so she could check the back. “What do you think?”
“Thank you.” Lauren smiled with relief. Her hair looked exactly the same before Zoe had touched it, although a little shorter.
“You’re welcome.” Brooke whisked off the cape and walked her to the register.
“It looks good.” Zoe put down a fashion magazine. “Thank you.” Relief flitted across her face.
The door opened and a bouquet of flowers appeared – sunny yellow gerberas jostled for space among golden roses, with paperwhites and pink tulips rounding out the selection.
“Order for Brooke.” A man’s voice sounded from behind the blooms.
“That’s me,” Brooke said, rounding the counter.
The man lowered the bouquet. “I need you to sign here.” He held out a clipboard.
He appeared to be in his early thirties. His shaggy sandy hair seemed to be in need of a cut, and he wore a gray coat, with a cream button-down shirt tucked neatly into brown slacks. His blue eyes were framed with square navy metal glasses.
Brooke scratched her signature with the chunky purple pen he gave to her. She blushed as her finger brushed his.
“I hope you like them.” He smiled shyly at her. “I’m Jeff, by the way. I run the flower shop in town.”
She scanned the card. “They’re from my parents – to congratulate me on opening the salon.”
“They were supposed to arrive yesterday. I’m sorry.” Jeff sounded rueful. “There was a hold up in the deliveries and I didn’t have enough flowers to make up the bouquet until today.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him, closing her eyes and inhaling the sweet scents from the blooms. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he answered
Lauren and Zoe watched the exchange. Lauren held her wallet, ready to pay the stylist.
“Look at my hair!” A human cyclone stormed into the salon. “Look!” She pointed to her mahogany hair. Limp curls drooped unevenly from the top of her head, brushing the tops of her shoulders.
Brooke bit her lip as she stared at the newcomer. “Did you wash your hair yesterday?” she asked.
“Of course I did.” The woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, replied. Her forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “I could not stand the smell of the solution a minute longer. As soon as I got home I gave my hair a good shampoo.”
“I told you not to do that,” Brooke said quietly. “Otherwise you could get this result.”
“I want my money back!” The woman scowled at Brooke. She looked ugly in the moment. “Do you hear me?”
“Everyone can hear you, Paula,” the woman with the plastic cap on her head called out. She waved to her friend, the movement highlighting a bracelet with a turquoise bead.
“Helen, is that you?” Paula narrowed her eyes.
“Yes.” The plastic capped woman nodded. “I took your advice and decided to visit the salon.”
The woman under the big hair dryer had put down the magazine and watched the scene unfold.
“That was before my hair was ruined!” Paula noticed the woman under the hair dryer. “What are you looking at, Rhonda?”
The woman flushed and reached for her magazine.
Paula glanced at Lauren and Zoe, then did a doubletake as she noticed Jeff, the flower delivery guy.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Jeff shifted, then squared his shoulders. “Doing my job. Delivering flowers.”
“Huh.” She sounded dismissive, and turned her attention back to Brooke. “What are you going to do about my hair?”
“I can fix it for you,” Brooke replied, “but I won’t be able to re-perm it for at least two weeks. Your hair has undergone a major chemical process and needs a chance to recover.”
“Two weeks!” Paula looked aghast. “I can’t walk around town for two weeks looking like this!” She pointed at her limp curls. “I need it re-permed now!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brooke told her. “Why don’t I make an appointment for you in two weeks’ time and then we can discuss your options?”
“You could wear a hat,” Helen called out. “It is winter.”
Paula looked unimpressed as she watched the stylist turn the pages of a large appointment book. “Aren’t you computerized?”
“It’s quicker and easier to use this.” Brooke tapped an open page. “And if I have computer problems, I’ll still have access to all my appointments. What about Tuesday afternoon in two weeks?”
“I suppose,” Paula said grudgingly, giving the stylist a death stare. “But I expect you to cover the cost. I’m not shelling out more money for something that hasn’t worked.”
Lauren watched Brooke’s mouth open, as if she were about to say something, then shut. When the stylist spoke, it was in a pleasant tone.
“All right. I’ll see you then.” She handed a card to the woman, who stormed out of there, not even acknowledging her friend.
“I’m sorry about Paula,” Jeff said awkwardly. “She has a tendency to blow up and hates being in the wrong.”
“How do you know?” Zoe asked, then seemed to realize what she’d said. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“We were married,” he replied. “But we’re divorced now.”
Lauren paid Brooke, thanking her once again for her expertise.
Jeff left just before they did. Lauren notice Brooke’s gaze linger on him for a second as he departed.
“Well, that was interesting.” Zoe shuddered as they left the salon. “I hope that woman never visits the café.”
“I hope not, too,” Lauren replied. She knew a lot of the locals by sight, if not by name, but she hadn’t met Paula before, or Jeff the flower guy.
“Hey, did you notice that Paula’s friend was wearing one of the bracelets I made? But I sold it to a man.”
“Maybe that was her husband?” Lauren suggested.
Zoe had set up a little display in the café a few weeks ago with a couple of her two-toned bracelets. Only one of them had sold, though.
“That could be it.” Zoe nodded. “At least, I think it was my bracelet.”