Page 16 of Forever To Me

Mack and I moved to Bridger Falls when she was a newborn to start a new life here, where nobody knew us. We stayed at the Dogwood for the first three months until I found a place for us. Maggie and I became close; she’s like the mother I’ve never had. She helped me through a rough time of transition in my life.

I wouldn’t be where I am now without Maggie and her encouragement and support. I’m glad Red has that if she needs it.

But then I can’t help but wonder what’s she really doing here?

I shouldn’t wonder, but I do.

Chapter 7

Violet

Okay, so I’ll just stay at the Dogwood and never leave now that I’ve embarrassed myself with the hot barowner.I really stuck my foot in my mouth. No wonder he ran out on me without saying goodbye. I’d run from me, too.

Maggie strolls into the office and sets her purse down. “I see you’ve officially met the owner of the Black Dog,” she smirks as she watches me squirm.

“Yeah, no thanks to you for telling me he was married,” I groan.

“A misunderstanding, but I’m glad you two worked that out.” She grins mischievously.

I say nothing but focus intently on the computer in front of me.

“Maybe you can work it out and be friends,” she replies cheekily as she watches me carefully.

“I can never set foot in that bar again,” I mumble.

“Oh, whatever. This is just a little bump in the road for ya. Now, sugar, we’re going to the salon today.” She slaps her thighs with both hands enthusiastically. “Hair and nails.”

“The salon?” I repeat, blinking in surprise. My gaze drops to my bare nails, and I wrack my brain, trying to recall the last time I did anything with my hair. It’s been so long; the memory escapes me entirely. A trip to the salon? Yeah, I could use that.

I can’t remember the last time someone wanted to spend time with me this way. Treating me, taking care of me. I feel like I’m wanted here and cared for. My teeth dig into my bottom lip as my nose stings, holding back a flood of emotions.

It’s not so much as going to the salon, it’s that Maggie wants me to go along with her after spending time together eating lunch. I'm loving this time with her. It makes me realize how much I have missed her.

“I have my standing appointment at Boots and Bangs on my lunch break, and you’re coming with me. Time to meet some new young people, especially now you’re apparently self-banned from the Black Dog,” she says with a chuckle.

“Let me get my purse.” I shake my head and grin.

The moment I step into Boots and Bangs Salon, I’m hit with a wave of heat and the scents of hairspray, perm solution, and something vaguely floral. The air buzzes with the sound of whirring hairdryers, the rhythmic snip of scissors, and the easy chatter of women who have known each other for years.

The walls are covered in vintage-inspired wallpaper—soft pink with delicate white roses curling along golden vines, giving the space a mix of small-town charm and old-school glamour. Gold-framed mirrors line the length of the main styling stations, each one reflecting a different slice of the salon’s lively chaos. Beneath them, white marble counter tops are scattered with curling irons, bottles of product, and an endless supply of combs.

To my left, a row of manicure stations is already occupied. Women of all ages sit with their hands stretched out over small, cushioned pads while technicians paint on soft pastels and deep, moody reds. The sharp, unmistakable scent of nail polish and acetone fill the air, mixing with the warm vanilla aroma of whatever candle flickers on the reception desk. This place is busy and humming with noise and laughter.

Near the back, three elderly women sat under the old-school heated domes, their gray and silver curls tightly wound around plastic rollers, gossiping like it’s their full-time job. One of them, probably in her eighties, peeks out from under her dome and gives me a friendly smile.

A neon pink sign in loopy cursive above the cash register reads Big Hair, Don’t Care and glows faintly beneath the soft track lighting. The floor has black-and-white checkered tile, scuffed in a way that tells stories of years of boots clicking across it, of kids sitting on their mama’s laps for their first haircut, and of generations of women coming here to feel beautiful.

The hum of a country song drifts through the overhead speakers, something slow and sweet, the kind of music that makes a woman want to sway in her seat. And beneath it all, laughter bubbles up from different corners of the shop—one of the stylists helping a client, another telling a wild story about her cousin’s wedding disaster.

It clearly isn’t just a salon. Boots And Bangs is where the women of Bridger Falls come to catch up, swap stories, and leave feeling a little lighter and bolder. And in this moment, in the warm glow of Boots and Bangs, I can’t help but feel a little bit at home.

Maggie is welcomed into the salon as if she’s Bridger Falls royalty with hugs and smiles just like she was at the Harvest & Honey. I stand in the doorway, taking everything in. She’s truly loved and revered in this town. I wonder what it would be liketo live in a town where you know everyone, where you’re welcomed and people are friendly.

Maggie turns to find me holding back and motions for me to join her. “Now have y’all met my niece, Violet? She’s new in town, and we’re having ourselves a girls’ day."

“Hi, I’m Livy and that’s Emma. Good to have you in here, Violet,” a pretty young woman says as she works on a woman laid back in her chair whose hair drapes over a sink getting shampooed. She looks over at Emma. “I call dibs on that gorgeous red hair.”

The woman getting her hair done opens her eyes and smiles. “Hi, I’m Teresa. Nice to meet you. You’ll probably meet my daughter, Cami, and my son, Ollie.”

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