The Little Summer Salon (Gossip On The Shore #1)

Chapter 1

“So, what’s it gonna be, Mary, red or purple this time?”

Chelsea rested her hand on her best customer's shoulder, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. The striking blue she’d dyed her hair less than two months ago was beginning to fade, leaving her clear complexion and gorgeous fluttering eyes looking washed out.

She knew Mary well, who was in her mid-thirties, a secretary to the top lawyer in town, flirty, smart, and knew what she could and couldn’t get away with. Of course, Mary wrinkled her nose, looking down at the black sheet covering her body.

“Landon wasn’t too happy with the crazy blue, as he put it.

He’s put up with me a lot, you know, the long nails I’m supposed to have neatly manicured and the high heels, way too high.

What am I supposed to do? I'm short; God didn’t bless me with a great pair of long legs, so I make up for it by wearing really high heels so I don’t get lost. Hey, what’s going on with the building? You have to keep me updated, Chelsea.”

“Nothing much right now, nothing to report. As soon as I know what’s going on, I’m going to post a big sign out front for all my patrons, so everybody knows where I’m going.” Chelsea bit her lip, hating the fact that she was lying.

The letter she’d gotten from the landlord yesterday was very troubling; he’d had a lot to say.

“Okay, you make sure.” Mary pinned her with a look, pointing her finger at her across the mirror.

“I will.” Patting her shoulder, Chelsea turned away, grabbing her supplies from the moving cart positioned beside her, wishing she’d taken five minutes in the massage chair for her stiff shoulders.

“No worries, we’ll give your boss a break this time. We’ll do that wispy pink you’ve been wanting to try. How about that?”

Her eyes sparkled with the same enthusiasm Mary always had. “I love that color. I’m so glad you always take good care of me. I’m not supposed to be dying it so much, but I can’t help myself.”

“You’re lucky your hair is short. We trim it a lot and use plenty of conditioner, so it’s okay. I still don’t recommend it, though. Remember when we argued about this two years ago, when you first tried that harsh jet black? It just didn’t suit your sweet, beautiful face.”

“Aw, I love you, too, Chelsea. I don’t know where I’d be without you! Does Eve have time to do a touch-up to my pedicure before I go to work?”

“Whatever you want, dear, we will get it done. Landon can wait five minutes; sooner or later, he’s going to see how beautiful you are and marry you.”

“Oh, Chelsea, I don’t know about that. I’m not even sure I like him that much. He’s cute, to be sure, and always respectful, which I like, but he’s always working. It would literally drive me nuts to be married to a man I’d never see.”

“Me too. God rest Mickey’s soul. He was such a good man. Yesterday was his birthday. It has been nearly twenty years since the car accident that took his life. I miss him very much.”

“Chelsea, you need to start dating again. I know, I know, your twin daughters, Addison and Amber, took up a lot of your time, raising them and taking care of this shop, but heaven help me, twenty years is too much. They have grown; you’ve got grandkids.

You need to go on a date, let a man wine and dine you, and sweet-talk you.

Find a reason to dress in some pretty high heels and wear a lovely dress, and we can go shopping. ”

“Oh no, you don’t. Between you and everyone else in this room, I’d look like one of those young girls; I’m not looking to turn back time. Besides, who’s gonna want a woman my age, grown kids, grandkids, a business that runs her life, and no life beyond those things?”

Chelsea waved that away, focusing her energy on the hair color she was ready to apply. “Besides, I’ve got my dog, Cocoa, and she’s more than enough for me. I can walk her; she sleeps beside me, and we love watching old movies together. We're a great couple.”

The words sounded so convincing even to her own ears; as Mary smiled back at her, nodding, Chelsea knew she’d made her point. “Okay, well, if you ever change your mind, I know a few single men who’d love to meet you, for one, Judge Anthony.”

It was Chelsea’s turn to wrinkle her nose, and it wasn’t from the scent of hair dye.

“No, thank you. That man would bore me to tears. Goodness, if you're going to find me someone, make it someone half-interesting who wouldn’t put me to sleep in the first fifteen minutes of dinner. Sorry to say, forget that, I’m good. ”

So it went, from the first moment the front door of the Dragonfly Cove Beauty Bar opened until it closed—customer after customer. She’d chat, smile, and work hard right alongside the dedicated staff she’d had for many years.

When the last customer departed and the closed sign was turned around, only she and, on occasion, Eve stayed behind. She would sink into the leather chair and let out a sigh. “Oh, I thought this day would never end,” Chelsea said.

“Me either. I knew when Luna came into the shop demanding she needed another redo of her tan and fell asleep on the bed, it was going to be a miserable day. I’m not sure she can get any more color on that skin of hers.

The sun is right out there, beautiful and free.

Tomorrow, she’s coming back to get her nails done, and she wants a perm. ”

Chelsea smiled. “Yeah, they are making a comeback, but I have a feeling not like what she’s hoping for.

The young girls are coming in for waves that add volume, and she insists on that outdated poodle look.

I'll talk to her before the first roller is in her hair, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t leave here looking like my grandmother. ”

“Thanks; otherwise, she will never let it die, and she’ll be giving us a bad name. Can you count out the drawer for me tonight? I hate to ask, but Cameron is picking me up. We're going to watch a movie, and I need time to get ready.”

Chelsea waved her friend away, pointing to the door. “Go, get out of here. I can take care of that and anything else that may arise. Go have some fun for me; make sure he lets you pick the movie, not one of those horror flicks that scare the pants off you.”

Eve smiled, hand on the doorknob, when Chelsea turned to regard her from the cash register. “I like those. It gives me a reason to get close. Hey, what Mary said was true. You really need to start dating again. It’s been too long.”

Chelsea held her tongue, biting the lips that begged to reveal the truth of how she felt on that matter. She smiled, nodding.

“Promise. Promise me you will at least think about it. I know you are forever worrying about Jake selling the building and all those legal issues he’s got going on. He shouldn’t be coming around telling you about them every chance he gets. It’s rude.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Chelsea knew she was right. “I’m sure he means well. He’s just keeping me informed, and some of it can’t be helped, but yes, I worry.”

“I know, but if you had a man, you could forget about it for a while and think of other things like kisses under the moonlight and walks on the beach. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yes, it would be nice, Eve. Don’t worry about me. I talk to Cocoa all the time. She’s a great listener, she doesn’t leave dirty socks on the floor, and there's never an argument, so I’m good for now.”

“Promise.”

Chelsea gave in with a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. “Fine, I’ll think about it, maybe even think about dating again, but that’s all I’m doing. Just thinking.”

“Fair enough.”

The door closed quietly behind her friend, leaving Chelsea alone in the silence of her beauty salon, cleaning and lost in thought. While she’d made a promise to think about dating, she didn’t say how often or when.

Shelving that, she focused her energy where it needed to be, on work and on forgetting men.

More than once, she had to turn away from the problems that plagued her at every turn.

“No, you don’t.” She tapped the toilet handle to make it stop gurgling, ignoring the door that wouldn’t close right and the hole in one wall.

Sweeping from front to back of the salon, she struggled with the light switch that wouldn’t turn off the overhead lights and forced herself to unplug the tanning beds for fear the outlets would catch fire while she was gone.

“Not enough insurance to cover something like that. I’d be in debt for the rest of my life. No way.”

Issue after issue, she ignored them, as she did every night at closing and every morning at the start of the day. The air conditioning creaked to life, showering all manner of dust and filth from some unforeseen crevice in the HVAC system.

Gently, she’d tug on the tiny throw rugs that covered any number of tiles that were crumbling and peeling in spots, so patrons didn’t get hurt. By day's end, they’d be in a different spot, and all the effort she’d made to ensure safety would be for naught.

She’d delicately covered the ceiling tile that hung half out with one of her favorite red silk scarves so as not to frighten her customers into thinking it was going to fall on their heads before their hair was set.

While she might have ignored these issues, her mind knew them well; she didn’t have to look to know they were there. She didn’t have to think about them or even check to admit she hated the building, but it was home.

Many times she’d wanted to call the landlord and beg him to sell, while secretly wishing he’d never sell and would win the lottery so she could have her salon fixed like he’d promised her years prior.

A thousand times over, customers, friends, and family insisted she move her salon to another part of town, even going so far as to recommend great spaces. But truth be told, the rent was cheap, and she loved her location. It was perfect.

By the time she got home, she was exhausted. She slipped into the kitchen after kicking off her shoes.

“Cold lasagna. What do you think of that, Cocoa?” Cocoa did her little happy dance. Lasagna was her favorite food in the entire world.

She walked barefoot from the cold tiles to the hardwood floor, ignoring the unopened mail on the dining table. She blew a kiss to the fish in the tank. “I’ll feed you later, Walter.”

Curled up with Cocoa beside her, they shared the food, the remote clicking on and off every few seconds. “There is nothing on, Cocoa, nothing but awful news, like I need more of that bad stuff no less. Come on, we're done now. Let's take these cookies to the bedroom, and we can get comfortable.”

Warm and cozy in her bed, Cocoa had her own space beside her. Chelsea nibbled the peanut butter cookies, handing off bits to Cocoa. “One more, and that’s it.”

She smiled at the dog’s soft grumbles before licking her fingers and leaning over to turn out the light. Darkness surrounded her. Cocoa’s soft snoring had already begun. She smiled again, this time to herself.

“Can you believe it, Mickey? Dating? Everyone wants me to start dating again. I’ve not been on a date in over twenty years. I wouldn’t even know what to say to a man if it didn’t include, ‘How short do you want the back of your hair?’”

She smiled. The soft sound of the wind and waves hitting the shore just outside her window relaxed her. She remembered their first meeting and every date after, and she smiled again.

She could almost hear his voice in her mind, telling her it was time. She had felt this way for years now and knew the moment had come. “What was I supposed to do, Mickey? Our daughters and the business needed me.”

The echo of her own conscience reared its head, reminding her that there was nothing to stop her now.

“Fine. I will think about it. That’s all I promise. Goodness me, dating. Who’s gonna want to date me when all I do is work? I’d talk about my grandkids and cutting hair. How boring is that?”

There were more grumbles from Cocoa, and then Chelsea fell fast asleep. The last thought in her head was work and how to fix it all.

Grant, fresh in from New York, was ready for the next adventure. He had an agenda and was more than ready for it. Breathing in the fresh, cool, sunny air, he took a look around. “Dragonfly Cove. I need to do some research on how it got that name.”

He rocked back on his heels, admiring the life around him—people watching, one of his favorite pastimes. Young couples walked hand in hand on the sand, their hushed whispers intimate and only meant for their ears.

An elderly lady, walking her tiny dog and wearing a large straw hat firmly plastered to her head, smiled at him as she walked by. A few yards away, along the sidewalk, children skated by, racing for the arcade a short distance up the street.

“It's busy, I like it.”

Mentally, he took stock of the locals. It was not his first time in town, but it was his first time admiring the atmosphere. He could see himself getting comfortable here, at least for a little while. “Easygoing, calm—I could get used to this.”

He paused to take in the street, then wandered around, wanting to experience everything. He had lived an adventurous life—skydiving, hiking in rainforests, and even helping a friend demolish buildings in Chicago when he had nothing else going on.

“It's time.”

“Time for what?” someone called from the side. Grant turned his head and saw a young boy, probably about ten, looking up at him. The boy held an ice cream and had a skateboard at his feet.

“Time to hurry up and eat that ice cream. With this sun, you could end up with a puddle on your hands.” He winked for added measure, surveying the surroundings for families who might be missing their kid. “Looks like Dad is waving at you. You might want to get over and catch up with him.”

“Okay.”

Grant watched him go, remembering his own childhood and all the things he’d said and done. He grinned. “Eh, to be a kid again!”

The building across the street caught his eye, making him smile. “The news can wait. I need a haircut. You can’t run a failing newspaper or be a good editor without a fresh haircut.”

Striding across the street, he couldn’t help but admire the lovely woman staring back at him.