Chapter 6
Selene’s next stop was one block off the town square.
She paused on the sidewalk to look at the pair of signs over the shared entrance to two businesses: A Snip in Time Salon and Om My Goddess Yoga and Therapeutic Massage.
It felt odd that this was her first visit to Emma’s studio, but somehow life had always conspired to keep her away .
. . Actually, when Selene perused her memories, it occurred to her that life hadn’t steered her away from Emma’s work in Avondale. Emma had.
The single entrance to the building opened to a small lobby furnished with minimalist chairs in neutral tones offset by an abundance of thriving plants, lending the glow of emerald and jade hues to the bare walls.
Verdant, subtly herbal scents permeated the air, so pleasant that Selene drew a deep breath.
A sensation chased that breath, somehow peaceful while at the same time invigorating.
She began to smile, but the expression froze on her face then dissolved when she noticed the sign on the door to her left.
Om My Goddess Yoga and Therapeutic Massage: Closed Until Further Notice
No doubt the sign had hung on the studio door since Emma’s death. Questions full of melancholy took up residence in Selene’s mind: Would someone new take on the business? Or would the studio become something else altogether? How would Emma have felt about that?
Then the more mundane but pressing thought: What were the terms of the lease?
No one had contacted Selene about an ongoing financial obligation, nor had Allie said anything.
But maybe whoever rented Emma the space had been waiting for Selene to move to town when Allie’s situation was more settled before broaching the subject, in person or via an attorney.
Selene pivoted toward the other door. Here the sign read:
A Snip in Time Salon, Natalie Lyon: Proprietor. Cuts, Color, Readings.
Appointments Recommended. Blessed Be.
The readings and “blessed be” told Selene that this was more than a normal salon, but she knew enough about Avondale now that it didn’t surprise her. She hoped that on the other side of the door, she’d find answers to her questions, both the mundane and the bizarre.
Not exactly clear on whether the shop was open, Selene tried the doorknob and found it unlocked.
When she pushed the door open, a cascade of silvery chimes filled the air.
Expecting a continuation of the spa-like atmosphere of the lobby, Selene literally stumbled at the shocking contrast of the salon’s interior.
The first thing that came to mind was a nineteenth-century bordello replete with antique gold fixtures, velvet settees, and silk brocade window draperies, but the lingering music of the chimes and the air tinged with incense made Selene decide it was more like a fortune teller’s den.
“I thought it might be you.”
The clear voice came from the far corner of the room where a woman sat, holding a porcelain teacup. She set the cup in its saucer on the table beside her chair and stood.
“The cards suggested I clear my afternoon,” the woman continued as she approached. “And I wondered . . . to be truthful, I hoped it meant you were coming. Welcome, Selene.”
It was, without a doubt, the strangest greeting Selene had ever received. “Natalie Lyon?”
The woman laughed, her glossy coal-black curls bouncing when her shoulders shook. “I apologize. I can be a bit much for a civilian, but you’ll adjust as you get settled in Avondale.”
“A civilian?” Selene was beginning to feel like she’d walked into some kind of prank.
“You’re not a magi,” the woman replied. “And, yes, I’m Natalie. Feel free to call me Nat if you like. Lots of my friends do.”
Selene set down her book-filled bags and took Natalie’s hand, but rather than shaking it, Natalie clasped Selene’s fingers with both of her hands and gave a light squeeze before letting go.
“Selene Jones,” Selene replied. “But you seem to know that. And somehow you also know that I’ve been made aware of what makes Avondale so special.”
Natalie sighed. “I apologize again. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I could see you’re looking at the world with new eyes the minute you walked in the door. Your aura is shifting between orange and silver.”
My aura? Something else new to add to the list.
“But how did you recognize me?” Selene pressed. For the moment she didn’t need to get into the whole aura thing.
“I’ve seen your picture at the house,” Natalie answered, her voice warm. “Pictures of the three of you.”
“Of me, Emma, and Allie,” Selene said, putting the pieces together.
Natalie nodded, her eyes gleaming with fondness and grief. Extraordinary eyes, Selene couldn’t help but notice. A deep blue that was almost violet.
“She talked about you all the time,” Natalie said gently. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Selene replied, her throat tightening. “And the same to you. Emma bragged that she had the best business neighbor, who was also a fabulous friend. I know you were close, though she managed to forget to ever show me a picture of you.”
With a dismissive wave, Natalie said, “Not her fault. I hate being photographed.”
Selene couldn’t imagine why. Natalie was nothing short of gorgeous, the satin black of her hair and her mesmerizing eyes a striking contrast to her smooth ivory skin.
In conversations with Emma, it had sounded like Natalie was at least middle-aged, but Selene couldn’t find even a hint of fine lines on the salon proprietor’s face.
She either had a fantastic skincare routine, or she was a lot younger than Emma implied.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Natalie continued. “I wish it had been under different circumstances.”
“Me too,” Selene replied.
Gesturing to her abandoned cup, Natalie said, “We could sit and have tea, if you have time. No doubt you have many questions.”
“I have time. And questions.”
Natalie paused, giving Selene another speculative look. “Is there any chance you want your hair done? I’m in the habit of getting to know people while I’m working. If you don’t want a haircut, I could do a deep conditioning treatment or a gloss.”
Selene’s hand went reflexively to her lopsided bun. “I’m embarrassingly overdue for a haircut. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’d be delighted.” Natalie beamed.
She led the way to the far wall of the salon where a chair faced a giant gilt-framed mirror with a shampoo station alongside it. Selene settled into the chair, and Natalie freed her hair from its topknot prison.
“I love this color.” Natalie carefully combed her fingers through Selene’s auburn locks. “Do you add highlights, or are they natural?”
“At the moment they’re natural,” Selene told her. “I’ve been pretty neglectful the past six months.”
“Understandably,” Natalie murmured. “I think it’s perfect as is, but if you want to change things up, I’m game.”
Selene considered that. “Let’s leave the color for now, but I’m wide open as far as a cut goes. My only requirement is that I’m still able to pull it back.”
“I hear that.” Natalie grinned at her in the mirror. “Let’s get you shampooed.”
A few minutes later, Selene was back in the chair, and Natalie was snipping away.
“Before we deal with the whole magic-is-real stuff, I don’t want to forget to ask about some normal, practical issues.
Like Emma’s lease on the studio.” Selene focused on keeping her head still while Natalie cut.
“I haven’t heard anything from the landlord about rent due or moving stuff out of there. ”
“That’s because I’m the landlord,” Natalie replied. “I own the building and live on the second floor.”
“Oh! I didn’t realize.”
Natalie tilted Selene’s head slightly, then returned to cutting. “There’s nothing to worry about with the lease.”
“Are you sure?” Selene frowned. While she appreciated Natalie’s generosity, she didn’t want to leave Emma’s friend in a bind.
“Absolutely sure.” Natalie moved around the chair and tilted Selene’s head the other way. “I don’t depend on the rent, and honestly, I’m not ready for another business to move in there. It’s too soon.”
“Okay.”
Several inches of Selene’s hair had piled up on the floor, and Natalie was working incredibly quickly.
Turning this way and that, scissors in constant motion.
A pang of nerves grabbed Selene until she remembered how incredible Emma’s hair always looked, which Emma claimed was only thanks to Natalie being a genius with hair.
“So.” Natalie smiled. “You ready to dive into ‘magic is real’?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Selene answered grimly.
“First of all, are you okay?” Natalie asked in a gentle tone. “You’ve been thrown into the thick of it without any warning.”
“I . . . don’t know?” Selene replied.
“That’s fair,” Natalie said. “But you didn’t shove Allie in your car and drive straight back to LA.”
With a grimace, Selene admitted, “I’m still considering that option.”
Natalie arched an eyebrow.
“Not really,” Selene said. “I couldn’t do that to Allie. At least not without learning more about what living in Avondale really means. This is her home, and she wants to be here.”
As Natalie continued to work on her hair, Selene struggled with how to put together the right words.
“I don’t know how she could hide this from me,” she said at last. “I thought we knew everything about each other, and now it feels like . . .”
She couldn’t finish the thought. Strings of reactive, impulsive thoughts were fighting their way through her brain, powered by confusion, jealousy, fear.
Natalie seemed to understand. “She couldn’t tell you, Selene. A condition of Emma, or any human, residing in Avondale is a secrecy akin to the most airtight NDA you can imagine.”