7. Violet
Chapter 7
Violet
O kay, so I’ll just stay at the Dogwood and never leave now that I’ve embarrassed myself with the hot bar owner. I really stuck my foot in my mouth. No wonder he ran out on me without saying goodbye. I’d run from me, too.
Maggie strolls into the office and sets her purse down. “I see you’ve officially met the owner of the Black Dog,” she smirks as she watches me squirm.
“Yeah, no thanks to you for telling me he was married,” I groan.
“A misunderstanding, but I’m glad you two worked that out.” She grins mischievously.
I say nothing but focus intently on the computer in front of me.
“Maybe you can work it out and be friends,” she replies cheekily as she watches me carefully.
“I can never set foot in that bar again,” I mumble.
“Oh, whatever. This is just a little bump in the road for ya. Now, sugar, we’re going to the salon today.” She slaps her thighs with both hands enthusiastically. “Hair and nails. ”
“The salon?” I repeat, blinking in surprise. My gaze drops to my bare nails, and I wrack my brain, trying to recall the last time I did anything with my hair. It’s been so long; the memory escapes me entirely. A trip to the salon? Yeah, I could use that.
I can’t remember the last time someone wanted to spend time with me this way. Treating me, taking care of me. I feel like I’m wanted here and cared for. My teeth dig into my bottom lip as my nose stings, holding back a flood of emotions.
It’s not so much as going to the salon, it’s that Maggie wants me to go along with her after spending time together eating lunch. I'm loving this time with her. It makes me realize how much I have missed her.
“I have my standing appointment at Boots and Bangs on my lunch break, and you’re coming with me. Time to meet some new young people, especially now you’re apparently self-banned from the Black Dog,” she says with a chuckle.
“Let me get my purse.” I shake my head and grin.
The moment I step into Boots and Bangs Salon, I’m hit with a wave of heat and the scents of hairspray, perm solution, and something vaguely floral. The air buzzes with the sound of whirring hairdryers, the rhythmic snip of scissors, and the easy chatter of women who have known each other for years.
The walls are covered in vintage-inspired wallpaper—soft pink with delicate white roses curling along golden vines, giving the space a mix of small-town charm and old-school glamour. Gold-framed mirrors line the length of the main styling stations, each one reflecting a different slice of the salon’s lively chaos. Beneath them, white marble counter tops are scattered with curling irons, bottles of product, and an endless supply of combs .
To my left, a row of manicure stations is already occupied. Women of all ages sit with their hands stretched out over small, cushioned pads while technicians paint on soft pastels and deep, moody reds. The sharp, unmistakable scent of nail polish and acetone fill the air, mixing with the warm vanilla aroma of whatever candle flickers on the reception desk. This place is busy and humming with noise and laughter.
Near the back, three elderly women sat under the old-school heated domes, their gray and silver curls tightly wound around plastic rollers, gossiping like it’s their full-time job. One of them, probably in her eighties, peeks out from under her dome and gives me a friendly smile.
A neon pink sign in loopy cursive above the cash register reads Big Hair, Don’t Care and glows faintly beneath the soft track lighting. The floor has black-and-white checkered tile, scuffed in a way that tells stories of years of boots clicking across it, of kids sitting on their mama’s laps for their first haircut, and of generations of women coming here to feel beautiful.
The hum of a country song drifts through the overhead speakers, something slow and sweet, the kind of music that makes a woman want to sway in her seat. And beneath it all, laughter bubbles up from different corners of the shop—one of the stylists helping a client, another telling a wild story about her cousin’s wedding disaster.
It clearly isn’t just a salon. Boots And Bangs is where the women of Bridger Falls come to catch up, swap stories, and leave feeling a little lighter and bolder. And in this moment, in the warm glow of Boots and Bangs, I can’t help but feel a little bit at home.
Maggie is welcomed into the salon as if she’s Bridger Falls royalty with hugs and smiles just like she was at the Harvest & Honey. I stand in the doorway, taking everything in. She’s truly loved and revered in this town. I wonder what it would be like to live in a town where you know everyone, where you’re welcomed and people are friendly.
Maggie turns to find me holding back and motions for me to join her. “Now have y’all met my niece, Violet? She’s new in town, and we’re having ourselves a girls’ day."
“Hi, I’m Livy and that’s Emma. Good to have you in here, Violet,” a pretty young woman says as she works on a woman laid back in her chair whose hair drapes over a sink getting shampooed. She looks over at Emma. “I call dibs on that gorgeous red hair.”
The woman getting her hair done opens her eyes and smiles. “Hi, I’m Teresa. Nice to meet you. You’ll probably meet my daughter, Cami, and my son, Ollie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say as Emma motions for me to sit in a chair.
I hang up my purse and denim jacket on a hook by the mirror and slide into the chair. This is like an old-fashioned beauty shop. Like the Dogwood, this place is frozen in time and kept old, but homey. Vintage is the word that comes to mind. Think Dolly Parton from Steel Magnolias. I watch in awe as they chat about local gossip and events.
Emma runs her fingers through my hair and murmurs, “Beautiful. Do you color it?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s all mine.” My red hair is from my dad's side of the family.
Her eyes widen, and she smiles. “People pay good money for this color, and the good Lord just gave it to you?” she drawls.
“Suppose so.” I smile. I didn’t always love my hair. As a kid, I was ruthlessly teased. But recently, I’ve been learning to love everything about myself. I’m trying to turn a new leaf.
“What do you want to do today, beautiful? A fresh cut and style?” Livvy asks as she runs her fingers through my hair.
I blow out a puff of air. I’m not even sure. It’s crazy to think that even a decision on my own hair can paralyze me. But I don’t know what I want anymore.
Emma watches my face in the mirror as I’m having this internal battle and asks, “Do you trust me?”
I bite my lip and chuckle. “Sure, it’s just hair. Go for it.”
She smiles and says excitedly, “This will be so much fun. I’m going to clean it up and add in some fun layers.”
I suck in air nervously through my teeth. I hope I don’t regret this. She guides me to the sink and sets me up and proceeds to give me the best shampoo experience of a lifetime. Her scalp massage battles anything I’ve ever had at any salon I’ve ever been to. I’m so glad Maggie brought me with her.
“So, Violet, what brought you to Bridger Falls?” She shields my eyes as she rinses out the shampoo. The warm water feels amazing, and my shoulders relax.
“I came to visit Maggie and fell in love. Decided to stay awhile,” I admit.
“Who’d you fall in love with?” She chuckles as she applies a deep conditioner and massages my scalp.
“Bridger Falls,” I admit.
“She might be working on falling in love with someone,” Maggie counters with a smirk.
“Nope, taking a break on love for a while. I play the guitar and write songs about love, though,” I quip, trying to change the subject.
“She’s also a great singer,” Maggie adds proudly.
“How long have you been playing guitar?” Emma asks.
“Since I was eight. My parents got me a guitar for Christmas, and I’ve been playing songs and singing on any stage that would have me ever since.”
“So, what…ten years?” she teases.
“Twenty-two,” I answer with a chuckle. “I’m thirty. ”
“Well, you look so young. I’d kill for this beautiful clear skin and gorgeous hair.”
“Thanks,” I say as I look around at these women all lifting each other up. A breath of fresh air in this salon.
Maggie says gleefully, “I still can’t believe you’re thirty. You’ll always be my young niece, Violet.”
“What’re you saying? I’m old?” I tease.
“I’m turning seventy-one this year, so I think I’ve got you beat on old,” she chuckles.
The door swings open, and a young woman strides in, balancing two trays brimming with coffee cups. Her long black hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. “What’d I miss?” she calls out, her voice bright and teasing, as she shuts the door with her foot, the bell jingling on it.
Emma takes a tray from her and says, “That's Cami.”
“You’re a lifesaver. I needed this,” Emma say, hugging her.
“I brought a bunch, so everyone enjoy,” Cami says as she sets the other tray on a coffee table and shrugs off her jacket.
“This is Violet. She’s Maggie's niece and staying down at the Dogwood. She learned to play guitar at eight, and Maggie is finally getting the help she needs at the Dogwood, thanks to her niece,” Emma says as she grabs the blow dryer.
“Hi, Violet! Have a coffee,” she says to me, then turns to Maggie. “You heard from Mack? Is she doing okay?”
“She’ll be back in a few days,” Maggie answers. “She’s got a lot going on right now with her school activities.”
I’m trying to follow along with all the stories, and I try to put their names and faces to them. But they’re all fascinating, and I’ve never been around such cool people. They’re going to make it hard for me to leave here someday.
Listening to them talk with Maggie shows me how big of a part she plays in holding this town together. She’s like the glue. She shows up for them all in so many ways. Even me. She took me in when I had nowhere to go.
They chat as my hair gets blown out and styled and it already feels so much better after she gives me a small trim.
“Cami, how are things with you at Steamy Sips?” Maggie asks then turns to me and says, “Cami owns a mobile coffee shop, hence all the delicious coffee.”
I reach for one of the coffees and take a sip, and it’s very good. It has a hint of cinnamon and is rich but not bitter. Damn, the girl knows her coffee. “Thanks, Cami.”
She smiles at me and says, “Business is great, can’t complain. I’m thinking about opening up a brick-and-mortar store, too. I’ll keep the trailer for events, but it would be nice to have a coffee shop for people to hang out.”
“I don’t know how you could add that to your plate and everything else you have going on, too,” Teresa presses.
Cami and Teresa share a look, and she says, “I have a business to run, Mom. A business we need to help pay for the ranch. You can ask Ollie to help more if you feel I’m not doing enough.”
Teresa glares at Cami, and the two exchange a heated look.
“Ollie already works as a firefighter, and he does help,” her mom argues.
“I have a job too, Mom,” Cami glares back at her mother.
“I just don’t think you should add more,” she says, her voice full of disapproval.
Maggie wasn’t joking when she said that you can learn a lot about the town by hanging out at Boots and Bangs.
Cami gives Livvy a pleading look as if willing her to offer a distraction.
“I heard Jack Jessop is back in town and working out at the Jessop ranch,” Livvy says quickly looking around to see if anyone is going to pick up what she puts down .
It works like a charm when all heads swivel to look at her. Cami looks like she could murder Livvy for dropping that information.
“I’m sorry,” Livvy mouths to her.
“What’d you just say?” Teresa’s head swivels around, her voice full of anger.
“Yep, he’s running his family's ranch now,” Livvy remarks as she picks up her scissors, then pauses when she realizes this might not have been the best diversion and she might be sticking her foot in her mouth even further.
Teresa scoffs. “Well, that explains your early morning rides.”
“Mom!” Cami huffs. “I love my early morning rides. Those are for me. And they have nothing to do with Jack Jessop. He’s the devil.”
“Early morning rides?” Maggie grins and leans in for this piping hot tea.
Fascinated by all of this, my head turns to each person during these conversations, and I look at Maggie who is getting her hair dried and grinning like the Cheshire cat. Maggie might not participate in spreading gossip around town, but it seems she has no qualms over listening to it all.
“You want your nails done?” Livvy asks a beautiful blond woman.
Poppy laughs, holding her hands, “It’s pointless to do my nails. They’re mechanic hands. Always getting dirty and beat up.”
Emma says, “Self-care is never useless. You have hard-working hands. They need to be extra pampered.”
“Maybe Ollie will like them,” Cami teases.
Poppy gives her a look and quirks a brow, “Want to discuss your morning rides? ”
“Nope,” Cami says, shaking her head and looking straight ahead.
“That’s what I thought,” Poppy smirks.
Teresa seems to have moved on to another conversation with someone else, letting whatever she has with Cami go for now. I think I’ll get my hair and nails done more often. I like this place.
After my hair is freshly blown out in big curls and my nails are done, I feel like a million bucks. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
“What are you wearing tonight for girls’ night?” Cami asks.
“Wear something sexy,” Emma adds.
“You’re coming, right?” Poppy adds.
“I didn’t know there was a girl's night,” I add, not wanting to intrude on their plans.
“A bunch of us are meeting at the Black Dog for drinks and dinner,” Poppy says. “You have to come.”
I close my eyes and resist groaning when she mentions it will be at the Black Dog.
Maggie looks over and says, “You’re going. Don’t even think about trying to get out of it.”
I’m thrilled to be included with them and hopefully make some cool new friends. No one tells you how hard it is to make friends when you’re older. It’s a tough world out there, y’all. I can’t wait to get to know them more.
Of course, wanting to see him again is a bonus, and if I were in a group of people, maybe it wouldn’t be as embarrassing. Maybe he won’t even notice me. I love going out and having fun. And getting dressed up is even better. Plus, I have great hair now and an excuse to go out.
I think about what I have in my bag I can wear, and then I smile. “I know just what I’ll wear.”
And it will be for Walker. As an apology of course.