“Are those extensions?”
Nina Malden noticed everything and Rachel’s new hair was no exception. None of her other clients had said a word-they talked about vacations in Cabo and how difficult it was to get dinner reservations at Tru while Rachel mixed color and folded foil for highlights and the sharp snip of her scissors accompanied the endless chatter-but no one had mentioned her hair.
“It’s-” Rachel glanced in the mirror over Nina’s perfectly coiffed head. She’d never understood the phenomenon-who went into a salon for a cut with their hair already styled? But every client at Rapunzel’s showed up made-up, even dolled-up, for their appointment. As a stylist, she had to un-do before she could re-do, and sometimes up-do, the hair in question.
Rachel fingered the hair on her head, thick and long, as close as she could get to natural, a trifecta of color, brownish-red with bright golden highlights that no one could ever define. It fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back in luxurious, beautiful waves. She couldn’t admit the truth, not even to herself, let alone to Nina Malden.
Telling her it was a wig would open a door she preferred to keep firmly closed.
She was thankfully saved from responding by a crisis up front. The raised voice of one of the stylists-she was sure it was Joshie-caught her attention immediately.
She made sure Nina was seated and comfortable before she excused herself to go handle the drama, which involved two appointments-one cut, one perm-scheduled at once for the same stylist. Her new receptionist, just twenty-six and a graduate of NYU, had proven to be a disaster so far. Rachel was usually such a great judge of character, but she’d been distracted when she hired Carly. Unfortunately, Carly didn’t work Saturdays, so Rachel couldn’t scold her. Instead they were taking turns between appointments manning the phone.
“I can’t do them both at once!” Joshie’s big brown eyes, rimmed with silver eyeliner, actually filled with tears. He was wringing his delicate, ring-adorned hands as if he’d dipped them in something very unagreeable and couldn’t get it off. “It’s impossible!” Rachel glanced at the lobby where the first client, a model in need of a spiral perm, checked her perfect profile in a compact. The other patron was just a young girl, maybe fifteen, bright and freshly pretty. Rachel envied her. The man beside her had to be her father- better be, she thought, taking in his age and demeanor, or else he was in danger of serious prosecution under pedophile laws, the way he was holding her hand and whispering into her ear.
“Oh I think you’ve done two at once before, Joshie,” Rachel murmured, shocking her stylist into a choked laugh and letting him know his salon gossip hadn’t escaped her ears. “You take the perm. I’ll take the cut.”
“But you’ve got the dragon-lady,” Joshie mock-whispered, glancing over her shoulder toward Nina Malden who was flipping through a Cosmopolitan, her lips set in a grim line. She wasn’t going to be happy.
“Well, this might be news to you, but I can do two at once too.” Rachel winked and Joshie’s cackle followed her into the lobby.
“Just a cut today, sweetie?” Rachel saw the girl’s nervous glance, first at her, then at the man beside her. He squeezed her hand encouragingly but the girl just blushed and didn’t speak. Rachel laughed lightly. “Not your first, I hope?” The girl’s hair was very long, to her waist, a thick black curtain. Her father-
Rachel was sure of it now, they had the same dark, wide eyes, and his hair was just as thick and black, although much shorter and curlier-cleared his throat and gave Rachel an apologetic smile.
“I think she’s in shock.” He shrugged one shoulder in Rachel’s direction. “But it was all her idea!”
“Something drastic?” Rachel guessed, glancing over as Joshie brought a cappuccino out for the model and took her back into the salon. She turned to check the appointment book and saw the girl’s name-Emma Malden-and then saw the note written beside it, just as the girl’s father offered the information.
“She wants to get her hair cut for Locks of Love,” he told her, looking a little sheepish at his next admission. “Her mother doesn’t want her to, so I brought her.” The two facts hit her simultaneously. This was Nina Malden’s daughter-the name and dark tresses were far too much to be coincidence-and she wanted to get her hair cut off for charity. As a hairdresser, Rachel was familiar with Locks of Love and had collected a great deal of hair for the organization over the years so they could make it into wigs for disadvantaged kids whose medical diagnosis left them humiliatingly without any, either temporarily or permanently. She’d done it with a vague sort of sensitivity in the past, but never with any real empathy. Not until now.
“How much do you want taken off?” Rachel inquired, glancing toward the back and catching a glimpse of Nina Malden in the mirrors. She was swinging one very expensive Jimmy Choo pump at the end of her silk stocking foot, a black stylist cape draped around her neck, obscuring her Vera Wang suit. She was thankfully still perusing a magazine, still distracted. Good.
“All of it.” The girl finally spoke up and Rachel heard the steel in her voice. Must get that from her mother, she surmised, seeing the dark flash of Emma Malden’s eyes, the hard set of her jaw.
“Well, I don’t think we have to shave you bald.” Rachel smiled and went over to where they were sitting, touching the girl’s hair. It was beautiful, healthy, and she’d been growing it out a long time. “You have a good eighteen inches here at least, even if we just give you a cute little pageboy cut.” Rachel used her hands to indicate the line at the girl’s jaw.
Emma frowned, looking over at her dad. “Are you sure that’s enough?”
“Ten inches is the minimum,” Rachel explained, this time looking at Emma’s father. She wondered what kind of hot water he was going to be in when his wife found out he’d taken their daughter to cut off most of her hair. Well, that was his business, right? Besides, it was for a good cause. “You’ve got plenty to spare.”
“That’s almost double, Em,” Emma’s father offered, nudging her. “That’s a lot of hair.”
“Okay, let’s do it.” Emma stood, swinging the dark curtain of hair over her shoulder, possibly for the last time.
“Come on back.” Rachel put them at a station up front but around the corner, out of the way. Somewhere they were unlikely to run into Nina, unless they had the unfortunate synchronicity to pass on the way out. Of course, having them all there together was a bit of coincidence to begin with. Joshie was two stations down with the supermodel and he waved at her and winked.
“So your mom doesn’t want you to get a haircut, huh?” Rachel opened the bottom drawer and took out a packet. Inside was a certificate from the Locks of Love organization and a long red ribbon they used to tie the hair.
Emma’s father had followed them back and he stood leaning against the wall behind her, arms crossed, just watching. Rachel nodded to the empty chair at the station beside her. “You can have a seat, Mr. Malden.”
“Jake.” He took her up on her offer, sitting down and swiveling the chair in a circle so he was facing his daughter. “And you are…wait, let me guess. You’re Rapunzel.”
“For all intents and purposes,” she agreed, combing Emma’s thick tresses into her hand and then tying the length of it off with the ribbon. Glancing up at Jake, she saw his teasing smile. His words and expression seemed genuine, but the man had a sharp, rich look about him that most of her clients-and her client’s husbands-exuded. She wasn’t surprised he was Nina Malden’s husband.
“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.