“Like you knowing you wanted to be a geologist when you were seven years old.”
“Um, I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”
“How would you put it?”
I blow out a breath. “I’ve always been fascinated with the earth. When I was about five, I threw a temper tantrum when I figured out wedidn’tlive on an active fault line and I’d probably never experience an earthquake.”
She tilts her head back, laughing.
How could I have thought earthquakes would be better than this?
“I couldsosee Maisy doing something like that,” she says, still laughing. “No one tried to tell you that you could just move to California?”
I roll my eyes. “California? Girl, I’m from New Iberia. We don’t move out of the 337 area code.”
That sets her off again.
I shake my head, tacking on, “I grew up thinking I was going to be a shift foreman in the salt mines just like my dad.”
I realize my mistake as soon as curiosity sparks in her gaze. “What changed your mind?”
Watching her smile and making her laugh has felt too good. I don’t want to ruin it. And call me selfish, but I don’t want to maroon myself back in those terrifying thirty hours.
“That’s a story for another day. Your turn.”
“My turn?”
I nod. “How long have you been a stylist?”
Stella blows out a sigh and looks deflated. “It’s been about six years.”
Damn. I thought it would be my story that chased away her smiles.
I chose my words carefully. “I’m guessing by the look on your face, you weren’t dreaming about working in a salon when you were a little kid.”
Stella tilts her head to the right, looking thoughtful. “Well, now that you mentioned it, I can remember more than one time when I used to play pretend and give my dolls different hairdos.” Her eyes glint at the memory. “It wasn’t justworkingin a salon that appealed to me. It wasowningone.”
Just watching her tells me that the idea still holds appeal.
“You should do it,” I say with conviction.
Her mouth opens like I’ve taken her off guard. “I’ve always wanted to run my own business.” Stella looks like she’s just confessed something embarrassing.
“What’s stopping you?”
She bites her bottom lip. “For a while, it was nothing more than a pipe dream. No capital. No savings. No time. But now?” The light in her eyes changes and that green seems to flash brighter. “I have ideas.”
You couldn’t pay me not to ask for more. “What kind of ideas?”
With a timid gesture, like she’s sharing something forbidden, Stella points to the room behind me. “I’m thinking about opening one here. I want to outfit the dining room with salon stations and hair washing sinks.”
As soon as she says it, I can picture it clearly. The outdated dining room is huge—like the rest of the house—and impractical for Stella and her small family. Let’s face it. The rest of her house is impractical for her small family too. But what she’s doing with all that space? Turning it into income? That’s smart.
“Cool. That’s a great idea.”
She nods with excitement. “Working from home? Setting my own hours? Owning my own business?” Her smile grows with each statement. “It would be awesome.”
I nod toward the future salon. “So, when will this all be happening?”
