“I’m sorry, what?” Grady asks, choking down the stuffed mushroom he’d just popped into his mouth.
“A head! An entire head! Oh, she’s pretty!” Paige pulls out the mannequin head with her long, red wavy strands of hair, a gift from the stylist that was on set at the shoot yesterday. I was telling her about my new little friend and asking for tips on things to teach her next. She offered to set me up with a whole kit of styling tools for her to work with. I couldn’t refuse, knowing how it would delight Paige. “How did you find a whole head for me?”
“A friend of mine, who does people’s hair for a living, gave it to me when I told her about you. She said if you’re ever in New York, you are to go see her and she’ll teach you everything she knows,” I say. “Until then, you have this. But only when I’m not around, okay? If I’m here, you use my head, not Edna’s.”
“Edna? Is that the head’s name?” Grady asks.
“It is, but you can change it if you don’t like it,” I tell Paige.
“I like it,” she says, pulling out the smaller bag that is full of bobby pins, hair ties, and various clips. “We’re going to be good friends, aren’t we, Edna?”
Immediately, she sets Edna on the coffee table in front of where Gray sits. With her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, she meticulously lines up all her new tools, telling her grandfather what each one is for. He loves her enough to pay close attention and asks her things he already knows the answers to.
“Well done,” Grady says, sliding up beside me and placing his hand on the small of my back.
“She and I understand each other, I think,” I tell him. We’re both just girly enough but aren’t afraid to get dirty. “I like your family.”
“They like you, too.”
“Any more news from the attorney?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. His gaze turns worrisome. “They meet tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be good news,” I say, hoping I’m not saying anything false.
“I agree,” says Maggie. “We’re not going to worry tonight. Tonight, we’re going to celebrate Lou. Tomorrow, we’re going to celebrate sandcastles and take whatever news comes to either of you, as a family. Now, come eat.”
Maggie leads me to the spread of food that, quite obviously, she’s planned with my diet in mind. Grady is a meat and potatoes type of guy, as is his father, I’ve noticed. But this feast is fit for a model’s diet. There’s a huge Mediterranean salad, grilled shrimp skewers, and so much fresh cut fruit I could weep with how delicious it looks.
Once everyone has a plate full of food, Sam comes to sit next to me. We’ve become friends, as he seems to be everywhere, allthe time. He’s the pillar of Stowaway. The salty old-timer who knows everything that happens to everyone and watches over the town like a hawk. He makes everyone his business because this town is his business.
If he sees me around, he makes a point to come and chat. I don’t mind it, at all. His grumpy facade actually makes me smile because I know what a teddy bear he is underneath it.
“You ready for the chaos to start tomorrow?” His question shakes me, momentarily, until I remember he isn’t talking about any kind of online shit storm from me releasing my police report and photos.
“The sandcastles bring chaos?”
“Yes,” he says with a pronounced frown. “It’s the start of all the uppity idiots from the city rushing to the coast in droves, acting like fools.”
“Surely, it’s good for business, though,” I argue.
“That’s the only good thing about it,” he says.
“It is great for business,” Ruthie chimes in from the other side of the table. “We make most of our yearly sales in the three months of sunshine we get.”
“See, it’s not all bad,” I say.
“It’s not,” Maggie agrees. “The festivals are fun.”
“I don’t know,” Grady says. “I’m inclined to agree with Sam.”
“That’s only because the influx of people means your job gets busier.”
“That’s reason enough,” Grady says. His chosen career is much less stressful in a small quiet town than it is in a busymetropolis, and I know that’s how he likes it. “I’m the one who has to patch up all the drunk idiots.”
“And then, those same drunk idiots want to buy up land and build monstrosities that they’ll only use for two weeks in the summer. It pisses me off,” Sam says.
“Everything pisses you off, old man,” I tease before popping a cherry tomato into my mouth and enjoying the burst of juice.
