Tanner awakened sometime in the middle of the night and made love to Crystal again. She responded with eagerness and let him know what she liked with small sounds of pleasure. She communicated with him in an open, unabashed way no other woman ever had, and for him, that heightened the enjoyment. He could lose himself in the act of loving her and think of little else.
The second time was as perfect for him as the first, and he knew she felt the same way, because afterward she said, “Dear heaven, I wish you didn’t have to leave. What a weekend we could have.”
Unfortunately, he had no choice. He had kids at home, and as tempting as staying longer was, he couldn’t expect his mother to look after them all day. She’d be worn-out by evening and unable to enjoy her night out with friends.
“You have to work,” he reminded her.
“Oh, yeah, that. Sooner or later, I need to take a vacation. I used to go to Idaho and visit Tuck. Now I have no idea where to go.”
“Tahiti? Fiji? Go in the winter to escape our bad weather.”
“Can I pack you in my suitcase?”
He laughed. “I’d be over the weight limit, and you’d have to pay extra.”
“Yes, but you’d be worth it.”
He set his cell phone alarm for six, drew Crystal back into his arms, and stroked her hair until both of them drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Toward dawn Tanner jerked awake to find Crystal gone. He climbed out of bed, pulled on his slacks, and searched for his shirt. Finally, he decided to look for her without it. He found her sitting on the floor beside Rip’s bed. The dog still slept, his belly up, legs sprawled outward. In the faint light coming from the brightening horizon outside the front windows, he could see an introspective expression on her face. The mystery of his missing shirt was solved. She had slipped it on, and he doubted she wore anything else.
In that moment she looked so young to him. She jumped with a start when he crouched, twisted at the waist, and sat beside her with his back to the wall.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” she said.
“No shoes.” He drew up his knees to create a perch for his arms. “Why are you out here? I hope it’s nothing I said or did.”
“No. Everything was wonderful. I’m just—oh, I don’t know—doing a little soul-searching.”
“Why? What about?”
“Rip. How I’ve bungled it while caring for him. I can’t get it right even when I don’t let myself love something.”
Tanner’s stomach tightened. He had a feeling that Crystal had waded into dark emotional water, and he wasn’t sure how to draw her back to the shallows. “Well, from where I’m standing you’ve done a great job caring for him.”
“He’s been running away to drink beer at a tavern and coming home drunk. He could have cirrhosis of the liver, which could kill him.”
“That wouldn’t be your fault.” No Name climbed onto his lap. He swept his hand down the kitten’s spine. “You’ve had Rip for only a couple of months, and Tuck had him for more than seven years.”
“Yes, but at least Tuck limited how much beer he got. I didn’t even know Rip was drinking any. Thinking back, I wonder why, when I first noticed him staggering, I didn’t realize he was drunk. It scares me now to think Rip could have gotten really sick any one of those nights and died while I was asleep.”
“But he didn’t,” Tanner pointed out. “And now you’re taking control of the situation. You shouldn’t blame yourself for not addressing a problem you didn’t know existed.”
She leaned her head back against the wall with an audible thump. “You’re right. I’ll remind myself of that if we learn he’s got health issues.”
“Crystal, remind yourself even if he doesn’t. I get the feeling you may blame yourself for things that aren’t even really your fault.”
* * *
After Tanner left, Crystal moved the kitten’s dishes and litter box into the full bathroom that adjoined her bedroom and got ready for work. Then she found Rip’s leash, a blue-and-white nylon rope with a handgrip loop at one end and a metal clasp at the other. Since Rip had lost his regular collar, she thrust the clip through the loop, creating a circle, and tightened the slack around the blue heeler’s neck. Armed with biscuits, she took the dog for a walk around the property. When he had relieved himself, she paid him his toll to reenter the house and then put him in the laundry room with his bed, food, and a large bowl of water.
Rip started to bark when she closed the interior door. Crystal steeled herself against the frantic note she heard in the sounds. She couldn’t miss any more appointments today than she’d already handed off to other technicians. She’d spent nearly four hundred dollars on purchasing dog collars last night, and no money tree grew in the backyard.
“Rip!” She spoke to the animal through the wood panel. “Listen to me. Okay? I’ll come back in only a while to take you to the vet, and when we’re done there, we’ll go for a nice, long walk. Don’t feel scared. Just take another nap, and I’ll be here before you know it.”
The dog began scratching at the door. Crystal almost relented. It was hard to go when she knew he might feel frightened. Taking her emotions in hand, she gave No Name a farewell scratch on his head, grabbed her purse, and practically ran from the house.
When Crystal reached the salon, it was nearly seven, her first client was waiting, and she had no time to even walk across the street for a breakfast burrito from the Jake ’n’ Bake. She finished three styling jobs in quick succession, glanced at her appointment book, and saw that her next customer was Blackie, who owned the pawnshop. She knew him well from when she’d dined often at the Cauldron. He was a nice older guy whom she guessed to be in his mid-fifties, with black hair, deep blue eyes, and a stocky build he kept trim with regular exercise.
Just as she envisioned him, the bell above the door jangled and he entered the shop. He flashed her an easy grin that made her wonder why he couldn’t find some nice woman his age who would appreciate him.
“Hi, stranger,” she said as she unfolded a cape and fastened it around his neck.
“Not my fault we’re strangers! I still eat regularly at the Cauldron, but I never see you there now.”
“Busy.” She gave him a brief rundown on Rip and his penchant for running away. “During my breaks, I’m busy hunting for that silly dog.”
“Well, I hope the new collar does the trick. With him getting out all the time, it’s a headache for you and dangerous for him.”
The man had no idea just how dangerous it was for Rip. Blackie’s hair rarely took much time, and she finished the job quickly. As she ran his credit card, she asked Shannon and Nadine if they were sure they could cover her clients while she took Rip to see the vet. They both assured her that they foresaw no difficulties.
The drive back to the farmhouse gave Crystal a short break, allowing her to relax and take a few deep breaths. She dreaded the vet appointment, mostly because of the stories Tuck had told her about Rip’s behavior in clinics. In order to prevent any problems, she’d cautioned the vet and technicians to keep stethoscopes out of sight, and not to wear scrubs, which the dog recognized as uniforms.
She froze when she entered the laundry room to let the dog out. An exterior door that opened onto the backyard bore deep claw marks, the interior door was just as damaged, and Rip had attacked a wicker clothes hamper, dragging all the soiled garments out to tear them with his teeth. The dark brown slacks she’d worn to the salon yesterday had gaping holes in them.
“Oh, Rip.”
The heeler lay down and put his paws over his eyes. He was clearly trying to tell her he was sorry, and she didn’t have the heart to scold him.
“What’s done is done,” she settled for saying. “Tanner said he’d help with repairs, and I’m sure Tuck won’t mind paying to replace both doors.”
She collected Rip’s leash, got it tightened around his neck, took him for a walk around the yard, and then led him to her car, feeding him biscuits along the way so he wouldn’t pinch her. Once he had received his treat inside the vehicle, he lolled his tongue and sat straight on the passenger seat to see where they were going.
“You’ll like Jack Palmer,” she assured the dog. “I’ve only met him once, but people in Mystic Creek speak highly of him.”
Rip barked and sent her one of those grins. With a start, she realized she was becoming fond of them—and of the dog. Maybe Tanner had it right, and she loved Rip in her way. The thought alarmed her.
Once at the clinic, Crystal kept a firm grip on Rip’s leash. Technicians and assistants in scrubs appeared at the other end of the waiting area, and the dog snarled each time he saw them. Cassidy Peck, a pretty brunette, came out front in her street clothes, crouched down to let Rip smell the back of her hand, and began petting him before she addressed Crystal.
“Sorry. I needed to focus on Rip first. Animals who hate scrubs are often animals that have had bad clinic experiences.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she met Crystal’s gaze. “How are you?”
“Good,” Crystal told her. “Nervous, actually. I’ve never taken Rip to a vet, and my grandfather’s stories about his past behaviors in a clinic have me on edge.”
Cassidy stood. “Come on back. You’ll be in room three.” As Crystal followed her up the left hallway, she spoke over her shoulder. “It’s not uncommon for dogs to hate scrubs and stethoscopes, you know. To them, they must look scary.”
Crystal doubted that most dogs grabbed the stethoscopes and jumped off examining tables to hide under chairs while tearing the devices apart. “Do most dogs swallow the bell and need an emergency procedure to prevent a bowel blockage?”
“Um, no.” Cassidy laughed as she ushered Crystal and the heeler into the examining room. “Jack’s been warned. He’ll keep the stethoscope out of sight, and he won’t wear scrubs.” She bent to lift Rip onto the table. “You’re a nice boy. Yes, you are.”
“He snarls and tries to bite when I pick him up,” Crystal observed. “Aren’t I blessed? Half the time I can’t even pet him. Our friend Tanner says Rip may feel jealous of me, because he senses that my grandfather loves me.”
Cassidy gave Rip a scratch behind his ears. “That could be. Some dogs are possessive.” She smiled and turned toward the door. “Jack’ll be right with you.”
Crystal stood at the table, watching Rip to make sure he didn’t fall off. “Is that the deal, Rip? That you’re jealous?”
The door opened just then and Jack Palmer entered. Crystal had met him at Taffeta Brown and Barney Sterling’s wedding. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and was a handsome man, tallish with light brown hair and friendly gray eyes. He wore hiking boots, jeans, and a blue Western shirt with the sleeves rolled back. Beneath the front button placket was a large lump. She suspected that his stethoscope caused the bulge.
“Hi, Crystal.” He approached the table, greeted Rip, let the dog get his scent, and then began petting him while he spoke with her. “Did any wires get crossed, or am I correct in believing you told the receptionist that this fellow has a drinking problem?”
“I know it’s clear off the charts. But, yes, that is what I told her.”
“Not as far off the charts as you might think,” he replied. “One of my clients lost her husband a couple of years ago, and last week when she brought her Chesapeake in, a blood test revealed that he had severe cirrhosis of the liver.”
Crystal’s stomach lurched. “Oh, God.”
“Vodka and orange juice, two or three drinks a night. And I think she mixes them strong. Her dog took her husband’s place as her drinking partner.” Jack was already checking Rip’s gums, teeth, and ears. “Can you keep his attention while I listen to his heart and belly activity?”
Crystal did her best to keep the dog’s gaze on her by drawing a biscuit from her pocket and showing it to him. Only when Jack had stowed the stethoscope back inside his shirt did she give the blue heeler the treat.
“He seems perfectly healthy,” Jack told her. “No detectable stiffness in his joints, no obvious jaundice, no buildup of fluid in the abdominal area, and his gums are pink. I’ll take some blood and run a panel on him for any indications of trouble that aren’t always obvious during an exam.”
“I feel so awful about this. I had no idea Rip was regularly given beer.”
“It happens,” Jack replied. “We’ll talk in my office. Let me get Cassidy in here to help with the blood draw first.”
Again Cassidy appeared in street clothes and had no stethoscope around her neck. After helping Jack draw blood, she praised Rip for being such a good boy and gave him a treat from a cookie jar. Jack lifted the dog back down to the floor.
“My office is right across the hall.” He led the way, talking over his shoulder. “We like to think everyone knows how dangerous alcohol is for dogs and cats. But a lot of people don’t.” He ushered Crystal into a small but tidy room that featured several wall charts about pets, a desk, and three chairs. He gestured for Crystal to take a seat. She accepted the invitation and coiled the slack in Rip’s leash around her wrist so he had to sit near her feet. “I have some literature for you and your grandfather. Mostly things I’ve found online and printed out. Actual alcoholism is, so far as I know, rare in dogs, but it can happen. Any time we consume anything daily that has a propensity to become addictive, man or beast can grow dependent.”
Crystal told Jack about all the times Rip had run away and come home at three in the morning. “Our friend Tanner believes Rip is going to the Witch’s Brew, where patrons buy him beer.”
“So Rip is staying for last call.” Jack smiled, but no warmth reached his gray eyes. “I can see how upset you are, Crystal. One thing all pet owners need to remember is that as cautious and responsible as you may be, bad things can still happen. Dogs can bolt out a door and be gone in a blink. Most of us try to keep them safe at home, but when you have an exceptionally smart dog—and Rip sounds as if he falls into that category—you find your authority challenged often. And looking at it from Rip’s side, can we blame him? Your grandfather apparently gave him beer almost every evening. Rip can’t verbalize how he feels, but maybe he craves it now, and with you at the helm, he escapes so he can satisfy his needs.”
“What can I do to help him?”
Jack spread his hands. “Aside from keeping Rip confined to his own yard, there isn’t a lot you can do except keep him away from alcohol. Check the ingredients of all your personal-hygiene products.” He named off different things that she should watch for on labels. “I’ve had dogs brought in with alcohol poisoning from consuming cough syrup, facial cleansing products, and all manner of other things. Keep potentially dangerous things inside a wall cabinet, not in a lower cupboard. Recreational alcohol should be kept in an upper cupboard or in a locked cabinet. If you have a patio party, confine Rip in a safe area or caution your guests never to leave their drinks unattended. Basically, you should use all the same precautions you would for a young child.”
“I’ve never had a child, either.”
Jack grinned. “You’ll get it down. Just go through your bathroom. Figure out a way to keep Rip at home where he belongs.”
“How do you feel about the use of shock collars on dogs?”
“That they are sometimes necessary. If a dog can be controlled without one, fine, but if not, a correction collar does no harm.” He turned on the swivel chair to open a file cabinet. “I’ll give you some literature for your grandfather to read, and I’ll have my receptionist make up some warning signs that I can tack up in bars, preferably in a prominent spot. Ever since the Chesapeake situation, I’ve been meaning to do an educational campaign.” He shrugged. “I got busy. Spring brings with it viruses that remain dormant in the soil all winter. Distemper can be a killer. But Rip’s story is a good reminder that I need to do it. There are people who honestly don’t realize that pets can be seriously harmed if they’re given alcohol.”
“My grandfather loves this dog. He’d never do anything to hurt Rip, never.”
“He’ll better understand the consequences after he reads the stuff I’m sending him. And the warnings may carry more weight if they come from a vet.”
Jack created a stack of copies and put them in a manila envelope for Crystal to take with her. “I’ll call you Monday with the test results,” he told her. “But until then, try not to worry. He appears to be in excellent health. I won’t be at all surprised to see a perfect blood panel.”
“Did the Chesapeake seem perfectly healthy?”
“No.” Jack held her gaze. “I knew when I examined him that something was seriously wrong.”
“Did he die?”
Jack sighed. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean Rip will. Keep him home. A script for him will be waiting at the front desk, a little something to take the edge off as his alcohol consumption is curtailed. Don’t start him on it until I call you with an all clear on his liver, though. If he has issues, we don’t want to introduce anything more into his system.”
Crystal pinned Jack with a questioning look. “Are you prescribing medication so Rip won’t go into alcohol withdrawal?”
“This drug serves the dual purpose of acting as a mild tranquilizer and minimizing the effects of alcohol withdrawal. If Rip has been drinking daily, it certainly can’t hurt to keep him relaxed as he’s forced to abstain, and it’s also a good precaution just in case of withdrawal. He can’t tell you how he feels. The medication will provide a safety net.”
Crystal bade Jack farewell, paid the bill, and collected a small white sack containing a bottle of pills. She talked to Rip all the way to the car.
“I hope Jack is right and your liver is fine. Imagine that. I’m amazed you’ve survived, Rip. But don’t take that to mean you’re a rare canine that can get away with drinking. We must take this very seriously.”
Once in the car, Crystal sat behind the steering wheel, thinking something wasn’t right. Had she forgotten her purse? No, it was on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat. Rip’s script was tucked in a console compartment, and the dog was fine, except that he looked at her expectantly.
And then it came to her. “Oh, dear heaven, Rip! I forgot to give you a biscuit when I got in, and you didn’t bite me. Is this a sign from you? Like, maybe you’re trying to tell me you’re starting to love me?”
The dog snarled. Crystal dived her hand into the door bin to get him a biscuit, but she was still smiling as she handed it over. “You’re like a teenage boy, getting all grumpy because you don’t like mushy stuff. What blows my mind is that you seem to understand most of what I say.” She studied the heeler as he devoured the treat. “Do you know the word love, Rip?”
The canine stopped chewing to growl at her. Crystal laughed and started the car.
* * *
Given the damage Rip had done to the laundry room, Crystal decided to take the dog with her to the salon for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow was Sunday, and she could stay home. Monday she would take Rip with her to work again while his new collar was charging.
When she called the shop, Shannon answered. “Silver Beach Salon. This is Shannon. How may I help you?”
“Hi, it’s me,” Crystal said.
“Oops. Sorry. I’m busy and didn’t look at caller ID. What’s up?”
Crystal explained about the destroyed laundry room and her decision to bring Rip to work. “I need everyone to ditch the salon aprons. Rip doesn’t seem to mind the brown slacks and silk blouses we all wear. He sees that outfit at home all the time.”
Shannon made an odd sound. “You’re bringing the dog from hell to our shop? You come to work with red marks all over your arms. What if he bites somebody?”
“He doesn’t bite,” Crystal retorted. Then she realized she was starting to sound just like Tuck. “Well, he does bite Tuck, me, and people in uniform, but even then, Shannon, he’s never broken the skin. He pinches with his front teeth.”
Shannon groaned. “That’s comforting.”
“He won’t do it to any of you. I promise.”
Over the next five minutes of driving, Crystal lectured Rip on how she expected him to behave inside the salon. “You were such a good boy at the clinic. I know you can do it.”
She parked under the carport at the back of her building, grabbed the end of Rip’s leash, opened the driver’s door, and started to exit the car. Rip snarled and pinched the back of her right arm.
“Ow!” Crystal gained her feet. The dog nailed her again just above her right wrist. “You little snot! Stop it! I’m getting a biscuit, damn it!”
After appeasing her grandfather’s dog, Crystal stuffed at least a dozen biscuits in her purse and pockets just in case she needed them to control the dog inside the salon.
“You’d better behave yourself.” Her arm panged where his teeth had bruised her. “I can’t believe I was thinking we might be forming a bond.”
She bribed the dog at the back door before entering her place of business. Rip, apparently excited by all the strange smells, lunged forward and jerked the leash out of her hand. As Crystal ran up the hall, she heard feminine voices. “Oh, how beautiful!” “Hello, Rip!” “Aw, you’re darling.” “Oh, what a sweet fellow.”
When Crystal reached the front of the building, she stopped and watched the dog go from station to station, grinning at technicians and patrons alike, and charming the socks off every person he encountered. Releasing a taut breath, Crystal relaxed. This could work. She only wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before now.
And just then a Federal Express deliveryman opened the front door. Rip saw his uniform and shifted into attack mode. Crystal ran up behind the dog, stepped on his trailing leash to prevent the assault, and dimly registered that the nylon rope had tugged her feet out from under her just before she landed flat on her back. The deliveryman leaped outside and closed the door to protect himself. As Crystal sat up, she saw Rip clawing at the glass.
She struggled to her feet, retrieved her purse from the floor, and got a handful of biscuits. Grabbing Rip’s leash, this time winding the rope around her wrist so it wouldn’t slip through her fingers, she held the dog back as she opened the door.
“Here,” she said, holding the portal ajar with her foot as she handed the man a biscuit. “Just offer him one of these, and he’ll let you come in.”
Middle-aged with thinning gray hair, the man laughed. “I know the drill. I just didn’t expect a dog in here.”
He appeased Rip with a biscuit, handed Crystal a parcel, and then paid the dog another toll to leave the shop. Watching him walk away, Crystal realized the salon had gone silent. Not even a hair dryer was running. She turned around and took in the pale faces of everyone who’d just witnessed Rip in terrorist mode.
“He really is a nice dog,” she said, feeling foolish. “He’s just quirky about uniforms.”
Nadine broke the tension. “Well, of course he’s a nice dog. All of us met him seconds ago, and he was delightful. I don’t like cop uniforms, a hangover from my wild and rebellious teens, so I kind of understand how Rip feels.”
An older lady with tinfoil strips layered over her head said, “My little poodle, Trixie, detests Courier Express, FedEx, and UPS people.”
“My spaniel goes crazy when the postwoman rattles the box beside our front door. He thinks she’s doing bad things to our house. It gives him a great workout, though. He runs in circles for nearly five minutes.”
Crystal was glad to have people visiting again, and she led Rip to her station. She tied his leash to the leg of her styling cabinet. Then she rubbed her back, hoping she wouldn’t be bruised in the morning.
Just then Crystal’s one o’clock entered the shop. Marietta Adams, a plump blonde with a warm smile that always seemed to light up a room, called hello to people she knew and then gave Crystal a hug.
“Oh, a dog. How nice!” She bent to give Rip friendly scratches behind the ears. “Having you here may help with my haircut anxiety. You can be my therapy dog.”
Crystal’s phone rang and she saw Tanner’s name on the screen. “Excuse me, Marietta. I need to take this.” Crystal answered the call as she hurried to the rear hallway, where she’d be able to talk in privacy. “Hey, you.” It wasn’t a particularly romantic way to greet a man who’d made her moan in ecstasy last night. “It seems like a year has passed.”
He laughed. “At my end, make it a decade, and not only because I miss you. Although I truly do. I have a bit of an emergency, and I’m wondering if you can help me.”
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
“My little girl, Tori. A girl at the play park called her ‘Kinky.’ You know, because her hair is so curly. She’s been crying ever since I brought her home. She doesn’t want kinky hair, and I, um— Well, I’m probably dreaming, but is there a way to make Tori’s hair straight?”
Crystal’s heart caught. It bothered her when she encountered cases of girl envy. Why was it that so few females were content with the physical features that they’d been born with? “I’m not sure straightening her hair is wise, Tanner. She’s beautiful just as she is.” In addition to that, Crystal had reservations about meeting the child of her new lover. She liked kids, but she wasn’t very good with them. “Can’t you soothe her hurt feelings by telling her how pretty she is and taking her out for ice cream?”
“She wants hair that’s straight like yours. After all this time, she still remembers the pretty lady with long red hair. Now, whenever she mentions you, she tosses in straight as another adjective.”
Crystal said, “My schedule is really tight today, Tanner.”
She heard him sigh. “Okay. I understand. If she’s still upset next week, maybe I can get her in to see someone after school.”
Crystal almost let it go at that. But then she thought of how wrong things could go if a stranger touched the child’s hair. Some techs would use a straightening solution, after which Tori’s hair might have to grow out before it would be curly again. The harsh chemicals could also do damage. “Hold on.” She considered her schedule. “If you can come after six, I can see her.”
“Awesome! You’re such a sweetheart. But can you make her hair straight?”
Crystal couldn’t help but smile. He sounded like a man who was hanging by his fingertips from a skyscraper ledge. Hearing in his voice how deeply he cared about his daughter’s feelings made her admire him even more. “Yes, I can straighten it, Tanner, but it’ll be curly again after you wash it.”
“That’s perfect. I don’t want it to be permanent. She’s too little to make decisions like that. I really appreciate this, Crystal. How about fast food at the park afterward? The kids’ll be ravenous by then.”
Kids. That meant he planned to bring Michael along. Crystal wasn’t ready to meet his family. Alarm bells went off in her mind. “Only if Rip can come.” She told him about the laundry room damage. “I brought him to work after taking him to see Jack.”
“He’s welcome to join us. Shit. Tori will fall in love with him and start begging for a puppy. But okay, that’s okay. I’ll deal with that. So, what did Jack say?”
“I’ll tell you about it tonight. I’ve got the sheriff’s wife up front.”
“Gotcha. See you at six.”
* * *
When Crystal’s last customer left, she had only fifteen minutes to prepare for her Tori Richards appointment. It hurt her heart to think that beautiful little Tori felt inferior to other girls because her hair was wildly curly. Crystal examined her reflection in the mirror and reached a snap decision. Maybe she could make Tori realize that having curly hair was more of a blessing than a curse.
It was worth a shot, and she had very little time to pull it off. She leaned over the sink in her station and shampooed her hair. Then after fluffing the wet strands, she dried them with a diffuser on the blow-dryer. The curls that she so relentlessly dispensed with every day leaped back to life. Her electric curling irons were already heated. She sat in the chair and made fast work of styling her now-intractable mane. When she was satisfied with the effect, she quickly reapplied her makeup.
Ready. Now maybe Tori will remember me as the lady with the long, red, curly hair and no longer find fault with herself when she studies her own reflection.
As Crystal got up from the chair and went to the front windows, she saw that she hadn’t finished her makeover a second too soon. Tanner’s Chevy truck pulled up to the curb. An instant later the kids spilled out onto the sidewalk. Crystal had met Tori that day outside the medical supply store, but she’d never seen Michael. He was a tall boy for eleven. He’d probably gotten his height and sturdy build from his dad. But there all resemblance between father and son ended. He had hair of such dark brown that it was almost black, and his eyes were cobalt, a much deeper blue than his father’s or sister’s.
Crystal met them at the door, opening it wide to allow them entry. Tori froze on the threshold and stared up at Crystal. “Your hair! It’s kinky, just like mine.”
Crystal nodded. “Yes. My hair is naturally curly.”
“But last time I saw you, it was straight,” Tori said.
“Yes,” Crystal replied. “I’m very lucky. Girls with straight hair often have to get a perm if they want to have curly hair like mine every day, and it takes a long, long time for the artificial curls to grow out. I can let my hair be curly whenever I want or I can straighten it whenever I want with a special iron. Only very lucky girls get to have straight hair one day and curly hair the next.”
She ushered the Richards family inside. Rip, still tied to the leg of her styling cabinet, trembled and squirmed with excitement. Crystal had never seen the dog interact with kids, and because of Tuck’s advanced years, she doubted that Rip had had frequent exposure to them.
She decided to play it safe and kept a firm hold on the leash as she allowed the canine to meet Tanner’s children. Michael petted the dog and said hello. Tori chortled and threw her small arms around the blue heeler’s neck. Rip returned her exuberant greeting by bathing her face with dog kisses.
Tanner chuckled. “I told you so. Now I’ll never hear the last of it.” He settled his gaze on Crystal’s hair. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you straighten your hair? It looks fabulous this way.”
“Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind.”
As Crystal got Tori situated in the chair and adjusted its height, she ran the child’s curls through her fingers and admired their multitone shimmer. She knew women who would happily spend two hundred dollars to have hair like that. “Your curls are absolutely stunning,” she told the child.
“I know.” An expression of distaste settled over Tori’s small face. “When people see me, they almost fall over, just like in the cop shows Michael watches where they stun-gun the bad guys.”
Michael groaned. “You just told, Tori. You broke our deal! Next time you sneak chocolate chips, I’m telling Dad.”
Tanner, who sat in a waiting-area chair, spoke up. “Michael, you know it’s against the rules to watch cop shows. Tori isn’t old enough to view programs like that.”
Watching Michael in the mirror, Crystal saw him shoot a murderous glare at his sister before hanging his head. “I won’t do it again, Dad.”
“You’d better not,” Tanner replied, “or you’ll be grounded from all television for a week.”
Crystal suppressed a smile. “Actually, Tori, when people say something is stunning, it means it’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“It does?” Tori’s eyes, an aquamarine just like her dad’s, met Crystal’s in the mirror. “Why does Mandy call me mean names like Kinky, then?”
“I’m only guessing, but I think Mandy is probably envious. I bet she has straight hair.”
“Yep. And it goes swish-swish, and it’s shiny and pretty.”
“Yours is shiny and pretty, too.” Crystal checked the straightening iron to see if it was up to temp, a gentler heat for Tori’s baby-fine curls. She divided the child’s mane into sections and held them in place with clips. “Are you ready to have straight hair just like Mandy’s?”
Tori giggled. “I’m very ready!”
As Crystal set to work, she realized she might have a bad case of what she called “girl envy” herself. Many young women had straight, silky hair, and she’d chosen to banish curls from her life by straightening them into nonexistence every morning. In a way, she was a grown-up version of Tori, wanting to look like somebody else.
It took only minutes to straighten the girl’s hair. Tori squealed with delight as she vacated the styling chair. “Look, Daddy. My hair swishes!” She wagged her head back and forth. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“Very pretty,” Tanner said. He stood and tipped his head to study his daughter. “You look like a different young lady.”
Tori admired her new look in every mirror she could find. “Daddy, do you see? It’s not just pretend straight. It’s genuine straight!”
Tanner smiled. “Yes, it is, and it’s very attractive. But I can’t help feeling sad. I think your curly hair is so beautiful.”
Tori, still gazing at her reflection, touched the stick-straight strands. “Don’t be sad, Daddy. If I shampoo tonight, it’ll be curly again tomorrow.”
“Will you be sad and cry again?” Michael asked, clearly reluctant to go through that drama a second time.
“Nope!” Tori knelt to hug Rip. “I’m very lucky, just like Crystal. I can have straight hair or curly hair, my choice! All I need is a special iron! Nana can help me do my hair for school.”
Crystal opened a drawer of her styling cabinet. She kept an extra straightening iron on hand in case her main one went on the blink. She drew it out and approached Tori. “If I give this to you as a gift, do you promise never to use it unless your nana or daddy is helping you?”
Tori nodded and smiled. “I promise!” She held up the iron to show it to her father. “Look, Daddy! Now I have my very own hair straightener!”
Gazing at Crystal, Tanner winked and mouthed a silent Thank you.
She felt an odd tug in the center of her chest, followed by a pang. Kids often sat in her styling chair, but none of them had ever touched her heart the way Tori did. She was such a darling child. No wonder Tanner had been frantic over her tears. Those innocent blue eyes grabbed hold of a person’s heart and refused to let go.