Please, give me the chance to explain in person and apologize. Have dinner with me tonight. I’ll wait for your answer.
Hudson
I read the letter again before putting it down. Tears fall freely from my eyes, plopping down onto the page, running the letters together. My heart aches over his words, it aches for him. This is wrong on so many levels. I didn’t like how he felt he needed to apologize to me. He didn’t. He was only doing what eventually needed to be done, creating space between us.
But damn it I want a dinner with him.
I could have dinner with him if I made it perfectly clear it was a dinner meant for friends, couldn’t I? Then I could explain to him why he didn’t need to go through all of this for me. Yes, if he understood where I stood, then surely we could work something out.
I stand up, the letter in hand, determination in my heart and walk down the hallway searching for Missy.
I didn’t know what to do next but I did know I had nothing to wear. Something told me Missy could help in that department. I just hoped she understood this was not a date.
Yeah, right Alice, keep telling yourself that.
*****
Missy insisted on a stop at the salon when I showed her the letter and told her I was going to have dinner with Hudson. Thankfully the drive is short because I began to regret my decision the moment Missy squealed like a teenage girl. I’m going on a date with her brother. Only it wasn’t a date and no matter how many times I tried to explain it to her she didn’t believe me.
We pulled up to a charming building built in the late fifties. It had a mid-century modern feel to it, painted the bright pastels of the time period. The sign above the door declared it to be the salon we called earlier for an appointment, Eleanor’s Beauty Bucket. A doorbell jingles overhead as we enter the posh location. It’s a small shop but busy no less.
“Missy,” A dark haired woman, with hot pink streaks greets us at the counter. She waves enthusiastically, a huge smile on her face. Her eyes meet mine and she gasps making me flinch. “Is this her?”
Missy turns to me and flips my brassy blonde locks, “Pinkie, this is Alice.”
“You weren’t exaggerating,” Pinkie, who is petite and pixie like, eyeballs my hair, her face no longer as bright. I cross my arms, suddenly very insecure. “Alice, we’re going to fix this right up for you, I promise. You’ll leave here feeling more beautiful than you’ve ever felt in your life.”
Missy touches my shoulder and I smile nervously at her. She pulls me in for a sideways hug, squeezing gently. I relax, accepting her gift of a makeover. All I want is to borrow a dress but she has other things in mind.
“I think Marjory would be perfect for this project, what do you think Missy?” Pinkie’s eyes are alight again, her smile even bigger than the first one.
“I think you’re right, is she available?”
“You’re in luck, she just had a cancellation,” she looks down at the appointment book in front of her. “She can work some magic in about an hour.”
“Perfect,” Missy bounces a bit on her toes, smiling as big as Pinkie. “While we wait, are there any open slots for mani-pedis?”
I look around, taking in the scene before us. The place is busy, filled with woman of all ages, chattering the latest gossip in between the sound of blow dryers and running water. There are at least ten stations, four manicure tables and three pedi-spas, all busy with customers. Pinkie stands from her chair at the desk, pulling my attention back to her. “We always have an opening for you. I’ll let Bobbi know you’re here.”
She walks toward the back of the salon and disappears briefly around the corner, leaving us at the desk waiting. When she reappears, a gorgeous woman with bright red hair, red lips and figure that curved for days follows close behind. She also has a smile plastered to her face.
“Missy,” her voice was large and over the top, a slight southern twang to it. She engulfs Missy into a hug. “It’s been too long. You haven’t been to see trashy Tammy, have you?”
“As if I ever betray you, one of my oldest friends,” Missy laughs and takes the woman’s hand in her own, squeezing it affectionately. “Tell me, how is Ms. Eleanor feeling?”
“You know her, just as ornery as ever,” Bobbi’s laugh is throaty and lush. She gazes over at me and smiles deeply. Her copper eyes are warm and filled with kindness. “Pinkie tells me you girls are in need of some pampering.”
“Yes, we are,” Missy releases Bobbi’s hand and pulls me closer to her. “This is Alice, a good friend of mine and Hudson’s.”