Willow wipes the sweat off her forehead and looks up. “Afternoon, Rory. Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry to bother you, but I still have a few boxes in the apartment. I thought I’d get them out of your way, but I need the key.”
“Oh, sure.” She wipes her forehead again. “I’m exhausted and sweaty from moving things in. Please excuse my appearance.”
“You look fine. Very refreshed.”
I’m not being completely honest, but Willow doesn’t look bad. She’s quite pretty, even with her blond hair pulled back in a bandana and no makeup. She’s a natural beauty, almost as pretty as her daughter, Ashley, though Ashley has full, pouty lips that she clearly got from her father, whoever he might be.
Willow laughs. “You’re a good liar. You, of course, look beautiful as always.”
I drop my gaze to my jeans and flip-flops. Normally I dress a little better for my lessons, but I didn’t have it in me this morning.
Willow grabs a key out of her purse and hands it to me. “Here you go. Just bring it back when you’re done.”
“Will do.”
I head back up, and then carry the boxes—most of which are books, heavy books—down to my car. I love to read. So does Callie. Raine isn’t a big reader. Some of these books have been in their boxes since we moved in together. That won’t happen again. I’ll purchase a bookshelf—or build one myself—and set them up in my bedroom.
Better yet—I need to find a place to live. Money is pretty scarce, and my family needs me, but a twenty-eight-year-old woman should not be living with her parents.
I considered asking Callie to find a place with me in town, but now that she’s engaged, that doesn’t make a lot of sense. If she moves in with anyone, it will be with Donny.
Once the boxes of books are secure in my car, I head back into the salon and hand the key back to Willow.
“I still have some boxes in the back of the salon too,” I say. “I’m sorry I left them here for so long.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s only been a couple of days.”
Right. Only a couple of days…but more than enough time for her to change the locks.
I’m being petty. Willow is a lovely person as far as I can tell. Time to go back to being nice Rory. How have I let Pat Lamone and his BS affect me so negatively?
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Oh, no, I’m pretty much done here. Just unpacking all my stuff. Everything’s in such good condition. Raine left the place perfect for a new venture.”
“Yeah, this other thing kind of came up suddenly. Her friend from Denver offered her a partnership at his new downtown spa and salon.”
“It sounds like a great opportunity,” Willow agrees. “And it certainly worked out well for me. I wasn’t sure if there was enough business in Snow Creek for two hairstylists.”
“Raine did it all. Not just hairstyling, but she did nails and facials and all that other stuff.”
“I only do hair. I wonder. Maybe I should hire someone to do the other stuff.”
“It’s hard to say. I’m not sure you have enough business to have a full-time person doing just nails and facials.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Plus, most nail techs aren’t aestheticians. Raine must’ve done it all.”
“Yeah, she has the full cosmetologist’s license and aesthetician’s license. Another reason why her friend was able to offer her a partnership in the salon and spa. The only thing she doesn’t do is massage therapy.”
Willow opens her eyes wide. “Massage therapy. Boy, it’s been forever since I’ve had a good massage. They were above my pay grade back in LA. I wonder…”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure there’s that much of a call for a massage therapist in Snow Creek.”
Though I could use one at the moment. My back spasms at the mere mention of a massage. Damn, I’m tense.
“You’re probably right. I guess I have to get used to small-town living. I’ll tell you, after living in LA for so long, coming to a small town is like living on a different planet.”
“How so? I mean, I know it’s different, but I’ve never lived in a big city. The closest was Grand Junction when I went to college.”
“The people here are so different. So friendly. Not that the people in LA aren’t friendly. They’re a lot friendlier than on the East Coast. New Yorkers? Give me LA any day. New Yorkers are just downright rude.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
A lie, but I can’t talk to Willow—or anyone—about New York. It’s too much like a knife to my gut. All those callbacks, and not once did I get a contract in New York.
Never New York good. Only Colorado good.
“I was only there once,” Willow says, “when I went to a stylists’ conference a couple years ago. I’ll tell you, they walk so briskly down the streets, you’re lucky not to get bulldozed over.”