“Yeah. That makes sense,” she agrees.
We lock up the station and Alex climbs into her car. I watch her taillights fade, then turn the other way toward home. My car feels emptier than it should after only one evening together. The heater hums, a carol plays low, the same houses and landmarks dot my usual route—but everything feels different knowing she’s just across town, calling it a night, maybe thinking about the day we just shared as much as I am.
Chapter 6
Alex
The battle of the bulbs begins November 22.
~ Deck the Halls
The bellabove the salon door jingles. The hum of blow dryers and indistinct chatter fills the air. Over it all drifts the rasped whispers of gossip meant to appear discreet while spreading the juiciest news.
“That new officer had dinner with Jesse Heinz,” someone stage-whispers, just loud enough to carry.
Another woman adds, “At his house, nonetheless.”
“I don’t think he’s had a woman over in years,” a third person says. Her wide eyes meet mine and the rest of her sentence dies on her lips. “Not unless you count his mom …”
I freeze mid-step. I’m pretty sure all eyes are on me. So much for blending in.
Laura glances up at me from her station and shouts, “Alex!” as if she didn’t just hear my name being dragged through the local mud. We both know she did.
I need a haircut—just a trim to clean up the fraying edges. I was in too much of a hurry packing to get to the salon before I left, so I was grateful Laura offered to see me.
“Adding that to my list,” I mutter, walking toward her chair.
“Your list?” she asks quietly.
“Of things I miss about New York.” Instantly, I feel lousy for saying that.
“Are you having a hard time settling in?” she asks in an equally conspiratorial tone.
The salon has gone eerily quiet since my arrival.
I shake my head. “Actually, no. It’s an adjustment, of course. But mostly good.”
“What’s the new item on your list?” she asks.
“Anonymity.” I smile at her. “In the city you can blend in. No one watches where you go or with whom.”
“Yeah. There’s exactly no hiding around here.” Laura’s tone isn’t annoyed. If anything, there's a note of affection to her words. “Secrets are kept between you and two thousand of your closest friends and relatives.”
I laugh. Then I turn toward the room of eyes staring at me. “I ate dinner at Jesse’s. We were on shift together. He had lasagna leftovers. He’s quite a cook. Any questions?”
Laura’s pinching her lips together to keep her laugh from bursting free.
“No one?” I ask, prodding the group of onlookers.
“He’s a good man,” one woman who must be in her sixties says. A few others nod.
“He’s my coworker,” I say, hopefully nipping any gossip about me and Jesse that’s not work related. My tone isn’t defensive, but I can’t help the straightforwardness. Where I’m from, we say what we mean and we mean what we say.
I smile at the women, making eye contact with each one. If I’m going to be here for any length of time, I don’t need to be making enemies.
A voice cuts through the chatter—sharp, familiar, and full of mischief. “I’m assuming you’ve all been gossiping up a blue streak. And if I know you—which I do—you’ve been talking about my granddaughter.”
Her granddaughter. Not by blood, but she’s claimed me since the day we met.
