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Did she want Grace to find a way to get rid of her boss? Or was she asking permission to let Grace’s great-aunt crash the party? Knowing that Rayleen had dug up an excuse and walked all the way over here in the hopes of being invited in… Grace might be tough, but she couldn’t be cruel. Not to this lonely old woman.
“Want a glass of wine, Rayleen?”
“Maybe,” she barked. “But you’re not getting your crazy hands on my hair.”
“Okay. I’ll leave your hair alone. Promise.”
Sorry, she mouthed to Jenny once Rayleen had settled in at the table.
“Hell, I’m drunk,” Jenny whispered. “The more, the merrier. I’m going to go dry my hair for the big reveal.”
Grace was just finishing up towel-drying Eve’s hair when Jenny started to scream. Grace’s heart dropped, and Eve actually looked as if she might start crying. But then Jenny leapt from the bathroom and screamed again. “Oh, my God, it’s beautiful! I love you, Grace Barrett! Look at it! Look at my hair!”
Grace laughed. Jenny’s hair did look beautiful, shiny and textured and warm. But it was a subtle change for such a strong reaction. Still, when Jenny threw herself into Grace’s arms, Grace hugged her back. Hard.
“I want to dry my hair,” Eve said calmly, but she gave up her solemn look when Jenny grabbed her hand and dragged her into the bathroom. They were both giggling madly.
This felt like…high school. But the best part of high school. The kind of girl parties you saw in movies. The kind Grace had scoffed at in disbelief, because her teen parties hadn’t been lighthearted at all. They’d been about forgetting. And treading the line between danger and despair.
“Good Lord Almighty,” Rayleen muttered. “That girl screams like a monkey on fire.”
“Yeah,” Grace agreed, but she couldn’t make it sound like a criticism. She could only wish she had that kind of joy. Maybe Rayleen felt the same, because she fell silent.
Grace joined her at the table and shuffled through the remaining boxes of hair dye. There was a deep walnut-brown that caught her eye. It was almost her natural color, just a little darker and richer. When was the last time her hair had been that shade? A year ago? No, two years ago. Before she’d met Scott.
Back when she’d been…happy? Was that possible? She’d had her own place, her own car. Merry had been in Texas already, but Grace had had a few friends. People to go out with. People to laugh with at work.
Then she’d been with Scott for a while, and that had been fine. But it had felt off, somehow. She’d felt confined, even as she’d sunk deeper into it. She’d made her hair darker, then added bleached layers. Then more black. Then pink and red and finally purple. Going wild again, as she had in the years before. A small rebellion against growing up. Against giving in. Or giving up.
“Ta-da!” Jenny called, sweeping back through the door.
Eve’s response was more subtle, but she was beaming. Jenny had dried her hair straight, and the length shone beneath the lights. “I love it,” she said simply. “Thank you. So much.”
“Let’s do makeup now,” Jenny said, clapping her hands. “I already feel like a new woman.”
“Okay,” Grace agreed, but then she looked back to the box in her hand. “But… Would you be willing to wait a little while? I think I’m going to change my hair up a little.”
“But your purple!” Jenny said.
“It’s starting to fade. These bright colors only last a few weeks.”
Rayleen snorted. “Good riddance!”
“Well.” Jenny sighed. “I suppose it’ll be fun to see you with nonpurple hair. But maybe you’ll dye it another wild color for me sometime.”
“For you?” Grace laughed.
“Yes! You take all the risks, and I’ll enjoy pretending I’m marginally involved.”
“Okay. Deal. Let me get the color on my hair, and then I’ll start your makeup. It’s going to take a while for this brown to set anyway.”
By the time she sat down at the table to do Eve’s makeup, Grace had lost even the memory of being nervous. And doing makeup relaxed her even more. All her unhappiness faded, receding until it was only the faintest background buzz in her mind. She couldn’t even credit it to the wine. She’d been too busy to do more than sip hers, unlike everyone else in the room. Even Aunt Rayleen had cracked a goofy smile or two.
Knowing Eve would be horrified by anything garish or even glamorous, Grace used a light hand with her makeup. Tinted moisturizer and translucent powder paired with a hint of warm pink on her cheeks and lips. She dusted her eyes with a neutral sand color, then smudged an espresso-brown shadow along her lash line. Finally, she used a light coat of mascara and darkened her brows with pencil.
With a smile, she turned Eve around to look at herself in the full-length mirror Jenny had brought from the bedroom.
“Oh,” she said softly, her eyes widening. “Oh, my God. How do you do that?”
