Left alone, she turned her sights to the work area for her jewelry designs. Apartment living in New York City had offered her unnatural light that hampered her color choices and hence her designing ability. When her jewelry and a suitcase full of clothes arrived courtesy of Brian, she scoured the house for the optimal working environment, and upstairs in the musty attic she found large windows that let in beautiful natural light.
Excited and working on adrenaline, Kendall spent an entire day bombing the attic, removing the dirt, and setting up the card tables stored there. Hours later, her plastic containers filled with materials had been strategically placed, beads organized by size and color, and her tools laid out for easy access. She stepped back and eyed her handiwork.
The attic had been transformed into an artist’s dream.
Ironic, really. She had the perfect studio set up in the same place she’d strung her first necklace, one made of varying sized pasta beads. It was here that Aunt Crystal taught her patterning, among other things. A wave of nostalgia along with the distinct feeling of loss enveloped Kendall. She missed her aunt as much as she missed what might have been, the life she’d have had if Aunt Crystal had been able to keep her on.
Kendall shook her head. No need to delve into the past. Live for the moment and move on, advice imparted by Aunt Crystal and wisdom Kendall had always followed. If the memories were choking her here in the attic, she’d just leave them behind and take on the town instead. Bracing her hands on her hips, she turned and walked out, grabbed her car keys and hit the road.
The sun shone overhead as Kendall drove her repaired, beloved red car into town. Her Volkswagen Jetta had had an electrical problem but the repair could have been worse and cost an awful lot more. So while the fates were still smiling on her, Kendall decided her first stop would be the beauty parlor to have her hair fixed.
She walked into Luanne’s Locks, the place Raina had suggested the night before. The strong ammonia smell hit her immediately, clogging her lungs and bringing tears to her eyes. When she finally stopped tearing, she was able to look around. Pink wallpaper, burgundy chairs, and gleaming chrome and mirrors surrounded her. A glass case with hair products took up one wall at the front of the store, a perfect place for Kendall’s jewelry to enhance the display—if the owner agreed to a consignment deal.
Kendall had approached many proprietors in various cities to take in her designs, and she hoped the owner would be receptive here. No one sat at the reception desk, so she headed deeper inside and paused at the top of one step that divided the entry area from the working one. For a small place, the salon was crowded with women and the chatter sounded loud and friendly, giving her hope.
Kendall drew a deep breath and paused by the first station. “Excuse me. Can you direct me to the owner or receptionist?”
“That’d be me.” The stylist, a woman with a bouffant hairdo reminiscent of the fifties, turned to face her, teasing comb in hand. “How can I help you?”
Kendall smiled. “I’m Kendall Sutton and I’d like to make an appointment.”
The stylist didn’t have a chance to answer. A customer seated in her chair leaned over, speaking in a stage whisper to another woman with rollers in her hair at the neighboring station. “It’s Rick Chandler’s new girlfriend,” she said, exercising her lungs.
The information traveled from the two manicurists sitting a few paces away and in seconds silence descended in the shop as all eyes looked at Kendall and none appeared friendly. The hope she’d held for winning over the store owner evaporated along with her positive mood.
Kendall had spent a lifetime as the new girl. She’d entered many a schoolroom or situation knowing no one, set apart from the crowd, and had learned early in life that she’d never be around long enough to let the opinions of others matter. As long as she felt happy and secure, as long as she lived an honest life and could look at herself in the mirror, that’s what counted—more wisdom imparted by Aunt Crystal, and words Kendall took to heart and carried with her always. Wisdom that never failed to buoy her spirits.
Until now. A strange feeling of discomfort enveloped her. Odd for someone used to being the outsider.
“Her hair’s pink.” The statement sounded like a shout in the otherwise silent room.
As half a dozen wide-eyed, curious women continued to stare, Kendall clenched her hands into a fist to prevent herself from lifting a finger to the strands. Her stomach cramped and self-consciousness set in. Another unfamiliar sensation for someone who’d never before cared what others thought of her.
She forced a grin and ran what she hoped was a carefree hand through her hair. “That’s what I came here to have fixed.” Though these people rattled her, she refused to let the insecurity show.
“Everyone go back to your gossiping and quit staring at the girl.” From the back of the shop, an attractive redhead came into view and strode to where Kendall stood. “You ignore these people.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m Pam. I’m co-owner of this place, and the lady standing next to me with her mouth hanging open is my mother, Luanne.” She jabbed her mother lightly with her elbow. “The other owner, and one who’s usually a lot more polite to her customers.”
“Forgive my poor manners.” Luanne held out her hand and Kendall shook it. “Everyone was talking about Rick’s new lady friend and then I looked up and there you were.”
Luanne lifted a hand to her mouth. “I’ll shut up now.”
Pam shook her head. “Good idea, Mom.”
“It’s no problem, really. Besides I’m sure this pink hair attracted the most attention.”
Pam placed her hands on her hips and studied her. “You really don’t know.” She shrugged and leaned closer, whispering as she spoke. “Mom’s serious. It’s not your hair, it’s your status that’s got them talking. Do you have any idea how many of these women tried to land Rick Chandler for just one date and failed?”
“I’d heard rumors . . .”
“Not rumors. Fact. I’m probably the only single woman in this shop right now who hasn’t made a play for the town’s favorite cop. I prefer light-haired men, but most women in this town aren’t so fussy. They just want the gold ring.” Pam waved her hand Kendall’s way.
“Not that I think you’re after such a thing. I just met you. I wouldn’t know. But you get my point.”