Page 11 of Silent Deception
CHAPTER FOUR
The moment Kristinopened the door of her aunt RaeJean’s beauty salon, she knew it was a mistake to stop by on a busy Saturday morning...especiallywith Cody in tow.
“Gracious me!” RaeJean Barker exclaimed, tossing aside her comb and brush. “Aren’t you just as cute as a box full o’ puppies today?”
Cody cringed against Kristin’s side and tried to wiggle away, but RaeJean was faster.
She barreled up to him, gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze, then tapped under his chin with one crimson-tipped fingernail. “And aren’t them just the prettiest eyes? Just like your momma’s.” She winked at him as she pulled a shiny fifty-cent piece out of the pocket of her pink uniform jacket. Tossing it high in the air, she caught it and offered it on her outstretched palm. “You look like a cowboy in need of a Coke.”
He stared up at her, his mouth open, and Kristin prayed he wouldn’t comment on RaeJean’s flame-red curls or turquoise eye shadow. She was, undoubtedly, the most colorful person he’d ever seen.
“Can you say thanks?” Kristin prodded.
He mumbled something and dropped his gaze to his Nike runners, his ears pink.
RaeJean beamed her approval as she hiked a thumb toward the back of the salon. “The vintage Coke machine in the back takes a fifty-cent coin. Or you can go to the vending machine next door, right in front of the saddle shop. They got more flavors, but it costs more and it’s not near as cold.”
Cody nodded shyly, then shuffled across the room as if he were crossing enemy territory.
No wonder.
Nothing much had changed here since Kristin’s childhood. Fluffy pink curtains hung at the windows, pink flamingo wallpaper still covered the walls. Ornate, gold-framed mirrors topped the two cluttered workstations, matching the heavy gold wall sconces and frames on the pictures of outdated hairstyles.
The explosion of baroque decorations and bawdy femininity, coupled with the sharp scents of bleach and perm chemicals, nearly took Kristin’s own breath away.
She glanced over the row of women settled under the six dryers at the back of the room, who were watching them with avid interest. Women who, when they walked out the door, would be wearing identical, tightly curled helmets reminiscent of the 1960s. Whatever the request, RaeJean always proceeded to do exactly what she thought best, and that was the one style she did for “women of a certain age.”
Which explained, unfortunately, the number of do-it-yourself haircuts in town and the exodus of the well-to-do to the upscale salons in San Antonio.
“Um...maybe Cody and I should stop back later. I thought you’d be closing about now.”
“No, ma’am. I had a full schedule this morning and still have more to do. Carlita didn’t show up—morning sickness, she says.” RaeJean lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I figure she decided to sleep late and go off for the day with that fool husband of hers. Ain’t two ways about it, that girl is on her last chance at the Snip and Curl.”
“I think,” Kristin murmured, hiding a smile at the reverent tone RaeJean always used for the name of her shop, “that you were saying the same thing when I was in town for my daddy’s funeral going on two years ago.”
Her hands on her ample hips, RaeJean snorted. “Meant it then, and I mean it now.” Behind her, a timer buzzed, but she waved away the sound as if it were an annoying fly and fixed a stern eye on Kristin’s shoulder-length hair. “Now, what can I do for you? You need a cut? Some style?” She reached out and ran a hand through Kristin’s silky, straight strands that had defied a lifetime of effort to add curls, waves, and even the tidiness of a smooth chignon. “A good perm and some color would brighten you right up. Need something more lively than just strawberry blond, I think.”
Cody’s eyes widened with obvious fascination as he came back in with a Coke and glanced between RaeJean’s old-fashioned bouffant, Technicolor Big Texas Hair, and Kristin’s own simple style.
