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“And yet you only wear red lipstick.”
He’d noticed? She didn’t know why that made her feel all fluttery on the inside. “I don’t wear pink. I don’t think I own anything pink.”
“So why make it your salon’s signature color?”
“It’s fresh and pretty. Feminine.”
“I’d think it’d discourage your male clientele.”
“It hasn’t so far. And honestly, if I they’re not comfortable with my salon they can go somewhere else. There are plenty of other salons and barbershops in Marietta. The last thing I want a man feeling is insecure with his masculinity.”
“I’m not insecure,” he said. “I’m just curious why you’d risk fifty percent of your potential customer base? It doesn’t sound like good business.”
“My established client base would come to me even if my salon was painted bright pink—”
“Come on.”
“It’s true. They’re coming to see me, and they’re secure enough in themselves to not mind a feminine environment. Now hold still, because I have very sharp scissors and you have a very exposed neck.”
He was silent for the next twenty minutes, something she was grateful for so she could concentrate on taking off more length without making him look like a shorn sheep. It wasn’t hard, actually, because he had great bone structure and with his broad brow and strong jaw, he could wear his hair virtually anyway and be appealing—
“Why not try to market to men?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She put the scissors down, ran her fingers through the sides of his hair, and then the top, checking to be sure it was all even. “Because the world already caters to men. Everything is about making men secure and comfortable. Just look at Main Street here in Marietta, for example. All those solid brick buildings, all those wooden storefronts…they’re not feminine. This town isn’t feminine. It’s a solid, practical town and I wanted to create something pretty and inviting for women, so I did.”
“I’m just saying you could have put green chairs in here instead of pink and then men would have felt equally welcome.”
She paused, gaze locking with his in the mirror. “You’re saying you don’t feel welcome because my chairs are pink?”
“The towels are pink. The front door is pink. Your apron is pink.”
“And your cape is black. I could have made that pink as well, I suppose.”
“Or green. Green is a great neutral color, gender friendly—”
“Gender friendly, that’s interesting.” Amanda reached for the jar of hair pomade on her shelf and rubbed some of the crème between her hands, warming it, thinning it, before dragging her fingers through his hair, giving the front a lift, spiking a little for height, and then smoothing the shorter sides. “I was going to give the salon a fresh coat of paint this spring. Maybe I should do it pink. Pink siding with white trim.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your front door is already pink.”
“So I’ll paint the door white. Or maybe a soft aqua blue.”
“You wouldn’t really paint your salon pink.”
“Why not?”
“It’d kill your business—”
“It wouldn’t.”
“It’d be a huge waste of money.”
“Not if I did it myself.”
“You wouldn’t.”
She felt her lips curve, the corners tilting up, hiding her pride and determination because Amanda Wright never backed down from a challenge. “You clearly don’t know me.”
You clearly don’t know me.
Amanda’s words stayed with him all morning, nagging at his conscience. On one hand, she was right—he didn’t really know her, but he wondered about the financial difficulties she’d had, and her damaged credit.
Unfortunately he couldn’t stay in Marietta as planned. TexTron was in discussion with another tech giant, and if there was going to be a merger or acquisition, he wanted to be there at the office in Austin.
He picked up sandwiches and salads from Java Café and had lunch with his grandmother at her kitchen table.
“This is fun,” she said happily, as they plated their meal on her pretty floral china.
“It’s a picnic at home.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. She was so incredibly good-natured. He’d never met anyone so determined to live life to the fullest and she was so happy he was here in Marietta now. It wasn’t easy to disappoint her, and she would be disappointed when he broke the news that he needed to return to Texas early.
“I’ve heard some rumors about work that are making me uneasy, Gram,” he said as they finished their meal and he cleared their lunch dishes. “I need to get back to Austin and I should return sooner than later.”
“What is happening?”
“I’m not totally sure. That’s the issue.”
“Then of course you would want to be there.” Gram folded her hands in her lap. “When will you return?”
He put the plates in the sink, and ran the water for a moment. “Today.” He turned off the water and faced her. “I’m on a six o’clock to Denver.”
“Today?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
“From you, that could mean months.”
“No, I promise. Soon. A couple weeks at the most.”
Her expression crumpled. “I was just getting used to having you here.”
He returned to the table and sat down close to her chair. “Gram, why don’t you come with me? Your house is ready—”
“You mean, fly with you tonight?”
“Yes. There are available seats on the flight. I already checked. Pack a bag and come with me. Make it a trial run, see what you think. I have a feeling you’ll love it.”
“And what about Marietta? And my bridge group? We’re playing on Friday. And then there’s a birthday luncheon for Barbara on Saturday. Do I just be a no-show for that?”
“Don’t you want to have an adventure? See something new?”
“Every day is an adventure here. You never know if it’s going to rain or sleet or snow.”
“I hate leaving you, Gram.”
“You mean, you hate leaving me to all my fun?” She patted his hand. “Don’t fret. I’ll pace myself.”
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I. All you do is work. While I get to see friends and contribute to the well-being of my younger friends.”
“Amanda.”
“Yes, Aman
da. I love seeing what she’s doing… building her business, expanding into a mobile salon as well as her ideas of a new senior center. Have I told you about that? It’s truly marvelous—”
“Gram, I need you to be honest. Has she asked you for financial support?”
“Never. Not once.”
“Do you ever feel guilty that she’s struggling—”
“No, and she’s not struggling anymore. She did for a bit, and I think it’s because the other salon she managed wasn’t pleased she was leaving to open her place, and made it difficult for her to take her clients, but ultimately, it all sorted out.”
She kept on talking, telling him things he already knew, how the pink station chair was always open and available for her at the Wright Salon, and how at any time she wanted an appointment, her chair was waiting and Amanda would make herself available. But at the same time, she never took advantage of the open chair policy, although she did like to drop in and sit down and watch Amanda work, or chat when Mandy had a moment.
“We’ve formed a lasting bond,” she added, “and it’s not a recent thing. We’ve become good friends over the years.”
“What do you talk about?” he asked, torn between exasperation and curiosity.
“Everything. Marietta happenings, like the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day Ball at the Graff, to the grandstand construction just starting at the Rodeo Fairgrounds, to new romances blossoming in town.” She blushed. “I’m a bit of a matchmaker here in town. Two relationships and counting.”
“You do know that real friends don’t have to give each other expensive gifts.”
“Gifts? What gifts?”
“The RV. I saw it parked in her driveway behind her salon. It was yours, wasn’t it?”
“It’s hers now.”
“Why?”
“She needs it, I don’t.”
“You can’t just give away everything you have.”
Bette’s chin rose, temper sparked. “Did you want the old RV? Is that the issue?”
“No.”
“Then what is your problem?”
“The loan… the RV… I just… worry.”
