I passed the terrible chicken restaurant with the ridiculous name and headed toward a block of small shops, all connected in a row. While the structures of the buildings were all the same aging brick and wood, each storefront had its own personality. An antique store was first, with gingerbread-style trim and a sign that read Yesteryear. It was followed by a small hardware store, then a newspaper office, The Shady Grove Gazette. I chuckled as I walked past the window and saw two people inside, busily typing away on their computers.
What could they possibly have to report on in this town?
When one of the newspaper workers looked up and caught me staring, she smiled and waved.
Oh shit. What if they're writing about me? What if the out-of-towner is the headline story?
I quickly ducked out of sight and moved on to the next building. The last thing I needed was press, even in a small town. If the story somehow made its way back to New York, someone would surely come and try to find me. To talk sense into me, as my father had put it.
I didn't need a talking-to; I needed to be left alone. I needed to do something on my own for once. I'd already imagined the surprise on my parents' faces when they found my apartment empty and my belongings gone. They were probably still pissed that they had to send a church full of people home. Served them right for signing me up for something I didn't agree to.
I took in a deep breath, pleased that the fresh country air seemed to calm my nerves. This place wasn't so bad. With little to no traffic and little to no people, it was a quiet place. A good place to collect yourself. To reflect and plan ahead. Also, a good place to get some much-needed alone time . . . or to get my nails done, I realized as I found myself in front of a quaint little salon-Cut and Dyed.
May as well make the most of this morning, I thought as I looked down at my hands and grimaced at my chipped nail polish.
I walked through the door, and the eyes of the three clients and the stylists helping them all focused on me. The clients were all of a certain age, as in old. And the stylists all appeared to be in their mid-forties, each of them modeling the latest in mom cuts.
"Can I help you?" one of the stylists asked from behind the chair of an elderly woman getting perm rods twisted into her hair.
For a moment, I thought I must have entered a time warp. Perm rods?
"I hope so," I said with a smile. "I was hoping to get a manicure." I held up a hand to reveal the remnants of polish on my nails. "And a blowout?"
There was nothing I loved more than someone else doing my hair for me. Back in New York, I went every two or three days. I just hoped to God this place offered more than perms.
"Of course," she said with a smile, and then yelled, "Audrey!" startling not only me, but her client. "Do you have time for a manicure?" she asked a younger-looking girl who stepped into the salon from a back room.
"Sure," Audrey said with a smile.
Unlike her coworkers, Audrey was a little sprite of a thing. Her long dark hair was an unnatural color of burgundy, but it suited her style, which was black jeans and a vintage-looking T-shirt with the words Live Free on the front. Her eyes were dramatically lined with dark charcoal, and tattoos on her arms and collarbone peeked out from her shirt.
"Come on back." She beckoned me with a wave, and the mismatched bangle bracelets on her wrists clinked together in an almost soothing melody. "I'm Audrey, in case you didn't catch that announcement," she said with a chuckle.
I followed her to a small room in the back of the salon, where a nail table was set up in a corner. "I heard."
"Bess is a bit of a loudmouth," she confessed as we took our seats out of earshot of the rest of the crew.
"Saves on an intercom system."
"Sure does." She smiled. "So, you must be the new girl."
"Is that what they're calling me?"
"New girl. Out-of-towner. Broke-down Audi at Wayne's. To name a few," she said with a grin.
"It's Charlotte," I told her.
"Well, Charlotte, it's nice to meet you." She placed a small dish with a self-explanatory decoration in the center that read Rings and Things.
I slipped off the two rings I wore on my right hand and placed them in the dish, then managed to stop myself from reaching for the ring that used to be on my left hand. The phantom weight that I still felt on that fourth finger was starting to fade, but if you looked closely you could see the outline of what used to be. Or, at least, what could have been.
"Do you have a color in mind?" Audrey asked, pulling me back to the present.
"Lincoln Park After Dark," I said without hesitation.
"I like a girl that knows what she wants," she said with a nod. "It's my favorite too." She held up her perfectly manicured hands. "Just touched mine up yesterday."