The Liar

“Oh, don’t be. Her mama had a cat fit, said she might as well work at Shady’s Bar as here with people getting shot. As if it happened every week. She was a whiner anyway,” she added with a wave of her hand, “and Lorna’s not sorry to see her go, so neither am I.”

“I’m not upset about it, not like that. If you and Derrick want me, I’m here. I’ve already started the playlist.”

“New flyers out today, then. We set a record on Friday.”

“You did?”

“Topped our best night when we had the Rough Riders from Nashville, by fifty-three dollars and six cents. You e-mail me the playlist when you’re finished, and I’ll make sure the machine’s set. And how’s your mama and all the rest?”

“Dealing. I’d better get to work before Granny docks my pay.”

She walked in right on time and went straight to work. She gave the garden patio a sweep, watered the pots, opened the umbrellas so clients could sit in the shade if they chose.

Back inside, she folded towels that hadn’t been seen to while she listened to the chatter of the first customers. When she stepped out she saw her grandmother had come in, already had someone in her chair. Crystal gossiped happily with the woman she was shampooing.

And Melody Bunker and Jolene Newton sat in the pedicure chairs with their feet in bubbling water.

She hadn’t run into Jolene at all since she’d been back, hadn’t seen Melody since that day in The Artful Ridge. She wouldn’t have minded keeping it that way. But since she hadn’t been raised to be rude, she stopped by the chairs on her way to check the front treatment rooms.

“Hey, Jolene. How’re you doing?”

“Why, Shelby, I swear!” She set her glossy magazine in her lap, gave her head a toss that had her long, high ponytail bobbing. “You haven’t changed one single, tiny bit, even after all you’ve been through. Are you getting nails today, too?”

“No, I work here.”

“Is that right?” Jolene widened her hazel eyes as if this was fresh news. “Oh now, I think I did know that. You told me that, didn’t you, Melody, that Shelby was working at Vi’s again, just like back in high school?”

“I believe I did.” Without looking up, Melody flipped a page in her own magazine. “I see you took my advice, Shelby, and found work you’re suited for.”

“Thank you for that. I forgot how much I enjoy being here. Y’all enjoy your pedicures.” She walked to the desk to answer the phone, booked an appointment, then slipped through to check the front rooms.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Melody and Jolene with their heads together, heard Jolene’s high-pitched giggle. The same as it was in high school.

She ignored it, and them, reminding herself she had a lot more important matters to concern her.

By the time she swung through the salon again, Maybeline and Lorilee—mother and daughter—were both perched on low stools doing the scrub portion of the pedicures.

So they’d gone for the deluxe, Shelby thought, and walked down to make sure the paraffin was turned on warm. She checked the locker rooms, hauled out used robes, ran through the rest of her morning checklist.

She had a friendly conversation with a woman from Ohio, one giving herself a day off from a hiking adventure with her fiancé, and offered to take a lunch order as the woman had booked a full day.

“You could eat out in the garden if you want. It’s such a pretty day.”

“That would be wonderful. I don’t suppose I could get a glass of wine.”

“I can make that happen,” Shelby told her, and produced a couple of menus. “You just let me know what you want, and one of us will go get it for you. About one-fifteen? You’ll be between your Aromatherapy Wrap and your Vitamin Glo Facial.”

“I feel so pampered.”

“That’s what we’re here for.”

“I love this place. Honestly, I just booked the day here so I wouldn’t have to hike three days running. But it’s all so terrific, and everybody’s so nice. Could I get this Field Green Salad with the grilled chicken—the house dressing on the side. And a glass of Chardonnay would just make my day.”

“You just consider it made.”

“Is the woman out front, the owner, is that your mother? You look like her.”

“My grandmother. My mama’s doing your facial later.”

“Your grandmother? You’re kidding me.”

Shelby laughed, delighted. “I’m going to tell her you said that, and you’ll have made her day. Now, can I get you anything else?”

“Not a thing.” The woman burrowed down in one of the chairs. “I’m just going to sit here and relax.”

“You do that. Sasha will come get you in about ten minutes for your wrap.”

She walked back into the salon with a smile on her face, went straight to the desk to place the order for a one-o’clock pickup. She started to turn to her grandmother when Jolene hailed her.

“That’s pretty polish,” Shelby said, nodding toward the toes Jolene was having painted glossy pink.