“My name is Rachel,” she disclosed, picking up her scissors. She met Emma’s eyes in the mirror. They were big and dark and huge. The poor girl was terrified. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Emma nodded, swallowing. “Do it.”
“Okay.” Rachel held the thick length of ponytail in her hand, glancing over at the girl’s father for one last indication of permission. It was no small thing, cutting off this much hair. There was a great deal of power in it, both in the length of the hair and the act of cutting it.
“She’s getting it cut off for her friend, Liv.” Jake’s gaze went to his daughter and his expression softened.
“Liv has leukemia.” Emma’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them back. “Oh damnit. I said I wasn’t going to cry.”
“It’s a very kind and generous gesture.” Rachel swallowed tears of her own. She hadn’t even considered how difficult this was going to be. The Locks of Love program had, strangely, not even crossed her mind since her own diagnosis and the universe had given her a two-month reprieve from doing this. But here she was.
“Just do it.” Emma closed her eyes and Rachel cut, the sound of the scissors bright and keen, even over the noise of the salon. When Rachel put the thick, dark ribbon of hair on the counter, the red tie trailing down the white countertop, bright as a trickle of blood, Emma opened her eyes and stared at it with surprise, as if it was a finger or a limb instead of a length of her hair.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetie.” Jake reached over and touched his daughter’s hand and the girl burst into tears. He stood and opened his arms and she went to him, sobbing. He stroked what was left of her hair, cut above her shoulders, and looked helplessly over her head at Rachel. “Oh, Em, it’s okay, you’re beautiful-even more beautiful now.”
Rachel felt a lump growing in her own throat. She spoke before it threatened to cut off her voice entirely. “Can you excuse me for a moment? I’ll be right back.” She took the opportunity to give them some privacy and left them hugging each other, a few of the patrons watching, curious, but most still chatting and combing and cutting, oblivious. Rounding the corner, Rachel stopped near the lobby, blinking fast and tilting her head back, willing tears not to fall. Not here, not now. Nina Malden was waiting.
“There you are!” Nina slid her phone closed and tucked it back into her purse as Rachel returned. “I was thinking about calling out a search party.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, glancing at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a little bright, but that was all. No other signs of grief. “We had a little scheduling snafu up front. The new girl isn’t working out so well.”
“Ugh, the help.” Nina shook her head and smiled at Rachel as if they shared something in common. “I know how it is.”
“Well, let’s get you shampooed, shall we?” She’d been in the business so long she never questioned using words like ‘shampoo’ or ‘condition’ as a verb. Nina’s hair was just as lovely as her daughter’s and Rachel washed it, trying to hurry, knowing Jake and Emma were waiting, but it wasn’t easy getting the sticky mass of mousse and hairspray and various other styling products out.
“I’m glad you could get me in today,” Nina remarked as Rachel squeezed the water out of her clean hair with a thick, fluffy white towel. “I’ve got a date tonight.”
“A date?” Rachel’s towel stopped abruptly. “Where are you and your husband going?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” Nina raised her eyebrows and lifted her left hand, waggling her fingers. “We’re divorced.”
Well, this was news. Rachel was stunned into silence.
“Has it been that long since I’ve been in? It’s been three months since it was final.” Nina followed her over to the styling station, taking a seat, smoothing her skirt.
“We’re both dating again.”
“I didn’t know,” Rachel murmured, squirting thick white lotion into her hands and kneading it through Nina’s hair. It was shorter than her daughter’s, only shoulder-length, more appropriate for a woman her age, but still long and thick. She required a lot of the conditioner.
“Well, we didn’t tell anyone until it was final.” Nina cleared her throat and Rachel saw her looking at her left hand as if there was still a ring there to admire. She remembered the thing-three carats, platinum, so shiny it could have blinded any magpie coming to steal it.
“You have a daughter, don’t you?” Rachel gathered Nina’s hair up with clips and covered it with a plastic cap.
“Emma?” Nina smiled, relaxing a little. “She’s with her father this weekend.” Well that explained it. Rachel listened to Nina talk about her date-an Illinois congressman. That was a step up from a corporate lawyer, wasn’t it? Nina’s eyes seemed to ask. Rachel didn’t say anything, she just led her client over to the dryer and handed her a stack of magazines.
“Okay, I’ll be back in ten minutes. You stay here and get conditioned.” Rachel smiled and turned the blower on, raising her voice so Nina could hear her. “Your hair will look ten years younger when the heat treatment’s done.”
“Ten years?” Nina touched the plastic cap tentatively. “Can we do twenty? Then Emma and I could be twins.”
Rachel laughed, setting a timer for ten minutes and putting it on the counter behind Nina. “If I could do twenty, I’d be a magician, not a hairdresser.”
“I’m sentimental about hair, I admit.” Nina flipped through the magazines, choosing a People with a smiling Brad and Angelina on the cover. “I haven’t let Emma cut her hair since she was ten.”
“It must be very long.” Rachel swallowed, remembering that a decidedly less hirsute Emma and her father were waiting for her to return.
“It’s gorgeous.” Nina flipped the magazine open, situating herself in the chair.
“She wanted to get it cut for some charity. I told her I’d write them a ten-thousand dollar check before I let her cut her hair.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Rachel said faintly, really realizing for the first time just how big of a deal it was going to be when this woman found out what she’d done to her daughter’s hair. Maybe she won’t have to know it was me personally, Rachel thought as she swept past the stations and rounded the corner. Then she saw Emma, sitting back in the chair, laughing at something her father had said.
You’re a coward, Rachel Lange.
She was. Here was this young girl who had given up her mane of beauty as a sacrifice for a friend, who was going to have to face Nina Malden at the breakfast table every day with that fact, and Rachel was worried about one little confrontation with the woman?
She touched her wig, checking the adhesive-she did this obsessively all day long-and put on a professional smile. “Are you ready to get your style on?” Emma’s returning smile was radiant, making her even more beautiful, and Rachel got to work, spraying her hair down to wet it and picking up her scissors. The girl’s hair was a joy to cut, thick and healthy and truly, as her mother had remarked, just gorgeous.
“I bet you feel lighter,” Rachel remarked.
“Loads. For so many reasons,” Emma agreed, glancing over at her father. He sat back in the stylist chair, arms crossed, just smiling. Rachel wondered if he was gloating, if this was some sort of payback to his wife. Ex-wife, she reminded herself.
“Your mother is going to kill me,” Jake said, crossing one very expensive Prada shoe over the other as he watched more of his daughter’s hair fall to the floor. “But I’m pretty sure my life insurance is all paid up, so you’re set, Em.”
“Very funny.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m almost seventeen. It’s my hair. It’s my life.”