Page 2 of The Way We Were(wolf)

“Hey! What are you doing right now?”

Lucy’s cousin was one of those people who thought she needed to shout whenever she was on speakerphone—something Lucy wished she had remembered before she answered.

Lucy stood in the middle of Mountain Brew, her cell phone pulled from her ear in one hand. The other held a cup that—until sixty seconds ago—contained her apple-crisp macchiato.

She cringed as she looked down at her formerly white blouse. “Well, from the looks of it, I’m the sole competitor in a wet t-shirt contest.”

“Sounds hot.”

“Yeah,” Lucy replied to her cousin on the phone. “Veryhot.” When a toddler on the loose had nearly plowed into her, the only thing she could think of was maneuvering to keep from scalding the child. Thankfully, she’d succeeded—much to the dismay of her button-down shirt. And her soaked skin and bra.

“Can I call you back? Or I’ll just see you when I get to the salon?” She grabbed the proffered napkins from the barista, mouthing athankyouto the college-aged worker. Dabbing her chest was only pressing the stain deeper into the fabric, so she stopped. Like her morning pick-me-up, which pooled around her boots, her shirt was likely ruined.

“Sure. How much longer until you get here?”

Lucy peered out the large windows at the front of the coffeehouse at Hairy Stylez salon across the street as sheets of rain fell from the sky. Without a car, she’d been riding around town on her uncle’s four-wheeler but decided today would be a nice day to walk. She obviously hadn’t checked the weather forecast—not that the vehicle would have done anything to keep her from getting soaked.

She could have walked home to change, but at this rate, and with the downpour outside, the better option was to just get to work. No sense in making her shirt any more transparent than it already was.Although, the rain might help wash away the remnants of her pumpkin roll—the last one in the pastry case—that had also met its untimely demise, but not before it left a stain of orange on her shoulder.

“I’m at Mountain Brew, so I’ll be there as soon as I get my coffee.”Again. Pulling a scarf from her oversized tote, she wrapped it around her neck, surprised to see it covered both stains pretty well. Perhaps she wouldn’t look like a total mess when she greeted customers at Hairy Stylez today. Only a half-mess. She could live with that.

Though she’d been helping her cousin with bookkeeping and inventory from home and had spent a few evenings here and there at the salon, tidying up with the night crew, it was her first real day on the job. Her first day working at an actual place since she’d beenrelieved of her dutiesat her old job and come to Wheeling with her tail between her legs—because there was no way she could go home to her parents like that.

She thanked the barista for her replacement beverage and readjusted her scarf, raising her tote above her head before she made the thirty-yard dash through the monsoon to Hairy Stylez. It was enough that her cousin had offered her a job at her salon—she didn’t need to show up on the first day like something you pulled out of a clogged drain.

“There’s my baby cousin,” Stella shouted as she greeted Lucy at the front door of the business.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than you.” Though, most days, it seemed like so much more. Stella had her life together. She owned a business. Owned a house. Looked impossibly chic and put-together with little effort, it seemed.Like today, she wore a button-down (notstained with coffee), collar perfectly popped to frame her face, and sported a sleek ponytail that Lucy had tried to copy several times, each leaving her looking like a colonial boy ready to shine shoes or whatever youngsters did in those days.

And then there was Lucy. She didn’t have her life together. Didn’t own a business. Didn’t own a car. Was living out of an apartment her uncle usually rented out but let her live in for free. And—thanks to the warm coffee and the smooshed pastry on her chest—was a literal hot mess.

But at least she had a job. And that was thanks to the bubbly woman in front of her, smiling so brightly she could have starred in a toothpaste ad. She was so grateful that her cousin had always welcomed her to her hometown whenever she’d needed a break—or a job, in this case. Lucy took a deep breath of herbal-scented air from the shampoos and conditioners the workers massaged into the clients’ hair. She inhaled a second time, hoping some of those tranquil vibes would make their way over to her.

“I’m so happy this worked out, Lulu.”

Lucy chuckled at the nickname, the one Stella had called her since they were toddlers. “Me too, Lala,” she said before wrapping her cousin and best friend in a hug, careful to leave some space between their bodies. No sense in both of them wearing the remains of Lucy’s breakfast. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” Between her cousin giving her a job and her uncle giving her a roof over her head, Lucy had more gratitude in her heart than words in her mouth, which was a theme as of late. Not being able to articulate her feelings was why she was no longer a graphic designer, after all.

“Sure you do. You would have been fine. But my receptionist going on early maternity leave means you and I get to spend more time together. So everything kinda finds a way of working out.”

“Right.” She pushed the corners of her mouth into as much of a smile as her mood would allow, which wasn’t much by any means. But it was exhausting feeling sorry for herself, and she was so over it. Sometimes bad things happened to well-meaning people. Life moved on. It had to, right?

“So, let me show you a couple of things before my nine-thirty appointment gets here.” Stella rounded the desk at the front of the salon and invited Lucy to have a seat. Like a well-oiled machine, other stylists went about their business, snipping and styling away. “Now, you’re already familiar with the software, which is honestly the hardest part of the job. You’ll just need to keep an eye on the door to welcome people as they enter and watch the hallway floor for any hair that gets dragged out from the rooms.”

Lucy eyed the partitioned stations, each with a barber’s chair and a table with a sparkly granite countertop next to the sink. “Got it.”

Next, they walked down the hallway, which led to a couple offices. “You’ll see the Electromatic Dust Pan 3000 in the corner over there.” Stella pointed at the knee-height, triangular machine tucked against the wall, out of the sight of the patrons. It looked like R2-D2’s cousin with its sleek gray design and stout stature. She half expected it to beep and boop and come to life. “I got it when Emily became too pregnant to bend over and scoop up what she swept. So, once you push the debris near the entryway, the Electromatic will automatically turn on and suck it up.”

“Easy peasy.” Lucy nodded. A computer system she already knew how to operate and a dust-sucker that kept her from having to bend over? Maybe this in-between gig wouldn’t be so bad. Except, was it really an in-between if she didn’t know what—if anything—was going to happen next? Nope, she wasn’t pulling at that thread today. If she did, it would unravel faster than a ball of yarn with a litter of kittens.

Stella’s phone pinged, and she pulled it from the pocket of her pants. “It’s Bobby.” Her lips twisted as she looked down at the phone. “I should probably call him back before he… I mean, before Mrs. Mathison comes in for her appointment.” Lucy watched her cousin walk back to her office. She was no expert in relationships, but she doubted a call from a boyfriend should garner such a sullen response.

Lucy picked up a pen as she rounded the front desk, wondering if it was too early to turn on her e-reader. After the morning she’d had, diving out of reality and headfirst into her blissful escape was probably warranted. But she’d only been on the clock for fifteen minutes, so maybe she needed to do at least a lap around the salon to sweep before jumping into a book.

She grabbed the broom, offering a nod to one waiting customer and a cheerful, “Goodmorning,”to another as she passed through the waiting area. She swept rhythmically to her favorite Shawn Mendes song, thanking her lucky stars she hadn’t absentmindedly begun to sing.

Once she’d swept all the dirt and hair from the entrance of each station, and the hallway shone a bright, unblemished white, she approached the Electromatic. Only, it didn’t turn on like Stella said it would.

“Alrighty,” she whispered as she crouched beside it. Her eyes roamed the machine, looking for buttons, switches, or any sign of life on the machine. “Now, Stella said you’d cooperate with me, buddy.” She stood and waved the broom in front of the opening. Nothing. Pushed the dirt farther into the hole. Nothing still. She got low again, tapping the sides and top. Did it look like she was doing the Hokey Pokey with an inanimate object? Probably. Thank goodness she was somewhat hidden down the hallway.

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