Chapter 1

“Harlow Elizabeth McKenzie! Let’s go! You’re going to be late for school!”

Rhys looked up at his mother with all the wisdom of a nearly eight-year-old. “Harlow’s still a baby. Why does she get to go to school, too?”

“Because it’s pre-school. You went when you were her age.”

“I was never as silly as you.”

Beckett smothered the urge to roll her eyes, but just barely. She heard the tromping footsteps of her daughter, and smiled despite how late they were. A honking horn outside her door punctuated the time.

“Uncle Murphy is waiting!”

Harlow bounded down the stairs, pink zebra backpack over her shoulders and her sunny blonde curls bouncing. “I was feeding the kitten. She was hungry.”

“The kitten is just fine. Come on, out the door.” Beckett laid a hand on each child and ushered them toward the door, pulling it closed behind her.

Murphy McKenzie hopped out of his truck when he saw them coming. He scooped up his niece and nephew as they ran toward him, pressing kisses to offered cheeks and carrying them easily toward the passenger side.

“How are my two favorite monsters this morning?”

Harlow batted her eyes at him. “Will you walk me into school?”

Murphy glanced over his shoulder, his too-long hair hanging into his eyes. “She’s gonna be a heartbreaker, Beck.” Opening the door, he deposited first Rhys and then Harlow into the backseat. “Buckle up, kids. Yes to the walking you in. We’re on the clock.” Grinning, he slammed the door and rounded the front of the car, stopping to snake his arm around Beckett and press a chaste kiss to the side of her head.

Grinning up at him, she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed him soundly. “Thanks for taking them to school. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Call if you need one of us to pick them up.”

Beckett stood watching until the truck disappeared down the street. Running her hand over her hair to check for displaced strands, she darted back into the house for her purse and keys before sliding into her car and heading to the salon she managed.

Before she even got to her office, the receptionist was cramming a stack of notes into her hand and two of the hair stylists were arguing over scheduling. Fumbling to get her office door open, she flipped on the light, dropped her purse to the floor, and pivoted, placing her hands on her hips.

“I don’t care whether the two of you work ten hours or fifty, so long as your chair rent is paid on time. Emma, if you want to work seven days a week for twelve hours, it’s your prerogative.”

When the second woman, a middle-aged blonde named Paulina, started to speak, Beckett levelled a glare at her.

“Not a word. One of the reasons things run so smoothly around here is because we keep it simple. I’m not going to punish her for working more hours any more than I’ll yell at you for charging twice as much. I’m not a referee.” Beckett glanced purposefully at each stylist. “If you want to be employees and have me tell you when to come to work and how long to stay, I can certainly accommodate you, but I have a feeling you’ll end up pocketing a whole hell of a lot less with me paying you fifteen bucks an hour. Is that what you want?”

Sullenly, Paulina shook her head. “No, ma’am. But I also don’t want her scheduling my regular customers for appointments because she’s willing to work around the clock.”

“Emma, make it clear when you schedule an appointment that it’s a one-time thing and leave the other stylist a note explaining why you scheduled one of their clients. If I have to hire someone to manage which client belongs to whom, I’m going to be very pissed off, and I’ll charge all of you for their salary. No one wants that.” Firmly, she gestured to the door. “Now get back to work, both of you.”

Soon after the sound of the door slamming echoed through the lobby, the receptionist poked her head in.

“What a hell of a way to start the morning.”

Beckett looked up and smiled at the young woman. “Good morning, Halle.”

“Good morning, Beckett.” Halle grinned. “Need some coffee?”

“I’d die for some. Thank you. What’s the day look like?”

“You have a few interviews for the open manicurist position, and Sarah walked out last night after old man Winter showed her his penis. Said she’s not coming back, either.”

Beckett scowled. “That old pervert wasn’t supposed to be allowed in here. Dammit. Sarah was good, too. Okay, I’ll tweak the schedules to move her clients around until we can hire someone else. Do we know how old man Winter managed to get an appointment?”

Halle chuckled. “He was a walk-in as she was closing up last night, and she’d never met him.”

“Post a fucking list of clients we don’t serve. I believe it’ll have, what, two names on it?”

“Something like that. I’ll write something up.” Halle started toward the door, then abruptly turned around. “Oh, Mrs. DeLaurentis called this morning to schedule an appointment for a meeting with you this afternoon to do a walk-through. It’s taking over your budget time, but I pushed it to tomorrow and changed the supplier contract meetings to the end of the week.”

“What does Gwen want?”

“She didn’t say.”

Beckett nodded and glanced at the stack of messages in her hand. “I suppose I’d better return these calls. Oh, before you go, how is the reservation book looking?”

“Pretty good, actually. September is stacked because it’s still wedding season. I checked with the hotel, it’s booked every weekend from now to Halloween with wedding parties, the vast majority of which end up here for stuff.”

“As it should be.” Beckett sank into her office chair. “I’m putting together a couple packages for the holidays. I’m going to increase our advertising budget for next year, and I think we oughta start moving toward an employee model instead of independent contractors. That way we wouldn’t have what happened in here this morning.”

“Has Mrs. D signed off on it?”

“No. If we have time I’ll talk to her today. I’d planned to wait until after I meet with the accountant, but we’ll see. I’d also like to be able to hire some massage therapists to do home appointments. We’ve been profitable for two years, but the margins are still razor thin.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Halle studied her nail polish. “You always do.”

Beckett opened her laptop and booted up the machine. “Let’s hope I do.”

****

The morning flew by in a haze of scheduling snafus, ringing phones, and supply orders. When the phone rang and Halle informed Beckett the salon owner, Gwen DeLaurentis, had arrived, it was past two in the afternoon and Beckett felt like she’d accomplished nothing.

Pasting a smile on her face, she strode out to the lobby with more confidence than she felt.

“Mrs. D. What a great surprise.”

Gwen embraced Beckett quickly, drawing the younger woman in for a hard hug. “Beckett. Prettier every time I visit. Let’s go for a walk. I want to look at what we’re doing.”

Smoothly, Beckett took Gwen’s arm and tucked it into her own. “Where would you like to start?”

The tour lasted nearly an hour. Beckett took the older woman through the different sections of the salon, visiting the areas where they provided each of their services, ranging from hair and nails to saunas, massage therapy, and facials to the bar and store where technicians were on hand to do make-up application and sell products.

Once they were settled in Beckett’s office with cups of tea, Gwen folded her hands on her knee and studied Beckett seriously.

“You’ve done a wonderful job with this place. I’m proud of you. It could’ve never been what it is now without you.”

“Thank you.” Beckett smiled fondly. “I couldn’t be who I am without you and Vive. You took me on when I was a scared twenty-two-year-old with a three-year-old and a new baby and let me cut hair. I owe this place everything.”

“We’re a family, Beck. All of us here. That’s the way it’s always been.” Gwen sighed and relaxed into the chair. “Honey, it’s time for me to leave. Frank and I bought a condo in Florida and a time-share in Cabo. We’re packing up and heading for warmth. I can’t take another Maine winter. These old bones won’t take it.”

“Congratulations.” Taking care to keep her voice level, Beckett forced herself to smile. “I’ll be sad for you to go, but I hope you know this place will be in good hands with me.”

“I’m sure it would be.”

“I have a lot of ideas. I’m working on some holiday promotions to keep profit up through the winter. I’m meeting with the accountant next week on a proposal to move toward employees instead of contractors, and I just requested plans from an architect in Portland for some ideas on expanding to include a café. I was planning to present the projected budgets and plans to you in a couple months.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Panic rising in her throat, Beckett hastily took a drink of her tea to calm herself. “Gwen, if you’re going to fire me, just tell me.”

“Why would I fire you?”

“I don’t know, but unless you don’t want to expand or do anything new, I don’t understand why you don’t want to look at the proposals.”

Beckett stood to pace the office, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what was going on. Giving herself a few moments to breathe, she tried to put her thoughts into something coherent. Running her hands through her hair, she continued.

“Trenton is so close to Bar Harbor it seems we should be taking advantage of the cruise ship crowd and the vacation season. We get quite a bit of foot traffic coming over the causeway, and I’d like to lure in more if we can. I think there’s a lot more we can do.” She stopped and turned to face Gwen, her gaze nervous. “There’s a lot more I’d like to do.”

“I agree. My dream when I opened this place was to have the best all-service salon in Maine, if not New England. We have great staff, a beautiful facility, and every year has been better than the last.”

Gwen leaned forward and gestured to Beckett’s chair. Nodding, Beckett sank into it and crossed her arms, waiting for her to finish speaking. When the elderly woman continued, her voice was tired and soft.

“Nothing trumps the fact that I’m seventy years old and want to retire. I don’t want to worry about this anymore. I’ve been working on Vive for two decades. I’m sick of worrying about budgets and expansions and maintenance. I want to spoil my grandkids and travel around the world. That’s it. In that order. I’m selling the salon, Beck.”

“Do you have a buyer yet?” Her heart sinking, Beckett stared down at her short, neat nails. “I can put a portfolio together for you outlining our profitability strategy and the expansion proposals if it would help.”

“It might.” Gwen leaned forward and took Beckett’s hands in her own. “I want you to buy it.”

“Me?” Beckett’s head snapped up. “I don’t have that kind of money. This place is worth millions. I struggle to cover my mortgage each month, let alone adding on a payment this large.”

“I figure the bank would love to look at profitability reports and expansion plans when you apply for a business loan. No one wants to have anyone from outside here run this place. I’ll cut you a good deal on it since you’re the reason we’re making as much profit as we are. If we lump the expansion funding and the financing into one loan, they might like it better.”

Beckett shook her head. “I appreciate this more than you can know. I’d love to do it, but I have the kids to think about. I don’t know if I can take such a risk. If it were just me, I’d jump on it, but I have to think of them first.”

“Think about it. Don’t say no yet.” Gwen released Beckett’s hand and leaned back in the chair, reaching for her purse and preparing to stand. “I’ll have my lawyer send over the sales proposal, and you should at least go talk to the bank to see what they say. Take two weeks to really vet it out and look into it. Will you do that for me?”

Nodding, Beckett offered a half-hearted smile. “I’ll do that much anyway.”