Page 3 of Knot Your Sunshine
Mrs. Gable winks at her, then her gaze finds mine in the mirror. Something in her expression shifts.
"Speaking of family, Mia, I ran into your grandmother this morning at the community center. We played cards."
"Oh!" My hands pause in their cleanup. "How did she do?"
"She cleaned me out completely." Mrs. Gable shakes her head, but she's grinning. "Four games of Gin Rummy, and she showed no mercy. Not once. Kept saying 'Gladys, if you can't keep up, maybe try Go Fish.'"
I chuckle, shaking my head as I sweep loose hair into the dustpan. "Sounds like her." And it really does. The woman is seventy-eight and still sharp enough to count cards without breaking a sweat.
"Then I told her I was coming here later, and you should have seen her face." Mrs. Gable's expression softens, the teasing edge disappearing. "She lit up like Christmas morning. That woman is so proud of her hardworking granddaughter."
Warmth blooms through my chest, momentarily eclipsing the ache in my feet. Six clients today, including two brutal color corrections from out-of-towners and a wedding consult that ran an hour over because the bride couldn't decide between three barely different shades of blonde. And it isn't even noon yet. My lower back has been protesting since client number four, but right now, standing here with these women who've become family, it all feels worth it.
"The whole town's proud of you," Sarah adds with a grin. "Plus you're getting famous. Didn't one of your hair oil videos just blow up? Like, millions of views?"
"Thirty million this morning." I smile for a moment. "But honestly, I think I just got lucky."
"Thirty million?" Sarah's voice pitches up. "Mia, who cares if it's luck! It's great for youandfor Lakeview. With a face like yours, you'll double the town's tourism by summer's end."
"You're absolutely right about that," Mrs. Gable nods enthusiastically. "My granddaughter is proof! She's never beenso eager to come visit me here, all because she saw you on that Teek Tok thing."
"You mean TikTok?" I ask, smiling as I sanitize my scissors.
"That's the one. She read me the comments." Mrs. Gable's eyes twinkle with mischief. "One of them said you've got 'the kind of beauty that makes poets weep.' She couldn't believe me when I said you didn't have admirers lined up around the block."
Heat creeps up my neck, and I tuck a loose strand behind my ear, suddenly very interested in arranging my combs. "It's just a few silly videos, you know. I'm just glad people are loving the oil."
"Speaking of," Sarah jumps in, her eyes lighting up, "do you still have some?"
I turn to her with an arched eyebrow and a playful smile. "Didn't I sell you a bottle last week? That's supposed to last a month."
"It would." She ducks her head, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. "If my daughter didn't keep stealing it. She swears it's the only thing that tames her frizz. I caught her sneaking it out of my bathroom yesterday, like a little hair gremlin making off with contraband."
A laugh slips out of me. "Can't blame her. That stuff is a miracle on curls like hers."
"One hundred percent agree," she says, then tilts her head. "How do you even make it? Like, what's your secret?"
"There is no secret, I make it the old-fashioned way." I flex my fingers, feeling the familiar ache from this morning's grinding session. "Wild rosemary from the hills behind the lake, chamomile from the meadow near the dock. All harvested with the Lakeview Sustainable Committee's blessing, of course. Then comes the patience part. Crushing everything by hand, the way Grandma taught me."
"By hand?" Sarah's eyes go wide. "You're kidding."
"Mm-hm. About an hour of grinding per batch to release the oils properly."
"You're working too hard, honey," Mrs. Gable tsks, the coloring foils in her hair crinkling as she shakes her head.
I brush loose clippings from Sarah's cape and smile. "Honestly? Grinding herbs feels almost like meditation. It's my quiet time before the salon opens."
Mrs. Gable's expression softens. "Just promise you'll rest those magic hands sometime."
"Of course," I smile, then turn to the shelf. I pick up an amber bottle, feeling its familiar weight, and press it into Sarah's hands. "And lucky for you, Sarah, I always set aside a few bottles for my favorite clients."
Sarah rises confidently from the chair, her new bob swinging with the movement. "Thank you, Mia. For everything."
She squeezes my hand, then pulls her wallet from her purse, slipping me a bill.
The bell jingles as she leaves, then immediately jingles again as Mrs. Leroy pushes inside, her oversized tote bag thumping against her hip with several books visible at the top, ready to tumble out.
"Hi, Mrs. Leroy!" I call, sweeping hair into a neat pile. "Perfect timing. Let's get you gorgeous for book club. Those ladies won't know what hit them."
