Chapter 5
Chelsea pinched the bridge of her nose, moving away from the wall, wondering who it could be now. “Is Alan here? I know my granddaughter is sick, and with my daughter at work, maybe he needs something.”
That didn’t sound right to her ears, since Alan, her son-in-law, was never one to mince words. He’d just as happily have joined her in the back room to talk as he would have sat in a chair for a haircut.
Her face revealing nothing, Eve shook her head. “It's not Alan or any other family member. It’s not even a friend or an enemy. I’m not even sure where to put this one.”
As calmly as she could, with the news she had just received still fresh in her mind, Chelsea moved with as much grace as her aching back would allow. Once she was past the door, a knot formed in her stomach as their eyes met.
“Why is today turning out so miserable?” Chelsea asked.
“Couldn’t tell you, but if I don’t get back to my customer, she’s going to be missing some hair,” Eve responded.
She made her way to the counter, legs unsteady. “Grant, good day. Did you need something? I hope it’s not another haircut after my little mistake.”
His smile and the charm that oozed from him were common among men with big-city values. The casual gray suit was anything but fitting for the bright sunshine outside and the warmth of beach life.
“I’ve let that go because no one else around here seems to care. I guess things are different at the beach than in the city. It’s something I’ll have to get used to while I’m here, being less high-maintenance, if you will.”
He rested his hand on the glass counter and looked around, taking in the place like he was judging a beauty pageant.
“It’s a nice place. I didn’t really notice it the last time I was here.
You do a good job making this awful building look nice for the customers.
You’ve got a talent for that, even if you’d never make it as a beautician in Manhattan. ”
She narrowed her eyes. A rush of sharp thoughts filled her head, but she held them back and chose her words carefully.
“If you’re here to criticize my skills or make fun of the best building in town, you should talk to the landlord and find someone who actually cares.
My clients are happy, I do my job well, and that one small mistake isn’t even a problem, so I don’t see why?—”
“I’m not here for that. I’m a man of the news, an editor, and I need stories, gossip, secrets, information, and anything I can get. What better place to do that than at a salon? I thought I’d come by, hang out for a bit, and see what’s going on.”
She couldn’t stop herself. The laughter that bubbled up and out had nowhere else to go. “And you think that by telling me that, by making that announcement, you’re going to get a great story.”
His words, as the new editor for the flailing town newspaper, worried her more than the haircut.
Still, she pressed on. “Charming though that is, I don’t think you’ll find success here.
You’d have better luck sitting on a bench outside the door, waiting for what you hear coming in and out of the salon.
You can’t just stand around and wait for the whispers and laughter to come unless you want a job as a hair washer as well. ”
His eyebrows arched in amusement. “Now that’s an idea. Are you hiring?”
“I’m sure, as an editor, you don’t have the credentials for this.”
“I have more than you realize, and it's all about connections, Chelsea; who you know and networking. That’s what makes business tick, but I’m sure you already know this.”
Hackles up, she sensed he was about to pass judgment or already had, and she forced out the words while trying to find a way out of this ridiculous conversation. “I do.”
Ms. Harrow came up to the counter, her hair neatly tucked into its usual style, with bright blonde streaks laced through it, typical for her age. “Chelsea, I love this color. What do you think?”
“You look?—”
“Stunning, beyond gorgeous, madam. May I say whoever did your hair today did an amazing job, but when you have such a perfect canvas to begin with, it's almost impossible to ruin such beauty, regardless of what’s done.”
Chelsea and her staff had looked after Ms. Harrow for many years. Now in her late sixties, she had been part of the Dragonfly Cove community for so long that her story was woven into its history.
Her eyes sparkled as Chelsea remembered how well she knew men like Grant. She laughed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement, which came as no surprise.
“I like this one. He’s charming, and he’s a keeper, Chelsea. It’s great to see you dating again—you really deserve it after all these years. If I were a little younger, I’d be asking where you found him, since he’s not from around here, so I could find one of my own.”
Chelsea was left speechless by the speculation about what Ms. Harrow assumed about Chelsea and her nemesis, Grant, not to mention what she was revealing to him.
“A widower or a divorcee is interesting—a story I’d like to hear. And, madam, you are beyond lovely. I’m sure that if you were to take a trip to Manhattan, they’d be beating down your door regardless of age. By the way, I must say you don’t look a day over forty.”
She gave his arm a warm pat as she placed her money on the counter, then gracefully opened the door. Chelsea’s mind was still catching up. “Good day, Chelsea. Next time I come in, I want all the details. Have this one buy you a nice diamond ring. You deserve it.”
The door closed quietly behind her. Chelsea mentally pulled herself together, turning her eyes to the man beside her.
He grinned, a flash of perfect white teeth, his visual appeal hard to resist. “Lovely woman, I’m getting the feeling this is the place to be.” He moved to sit in a nearby waiting chair and grabbed a salon magazine.
The hilarity of this image was lost on Chelsea, who missed it, too consumed with worry. “The last thing I need is for this salon or for me personally to be in the news.”
She’d not intended to speak the words aloud, but they slipped out in a rush of whispers.
The crinkle of paper as he turned page after page drew her attention.
“I’m not here for news about you, though those little tidbits offer insight into who I’m dealing with.
Interesting though you are, I need a story, and I need one fast, something that will smash the front pages and make everyone in this cozy beach town buy up every copy. ”
She’d heard enough and was annoyed. Chelsea did a quick survey of the many customers and the hairstylists in her shop. “Fine, here, let me help you.”
She hurried to the other side of the counter, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to his feet. “Let's take a walk. This is a beach town, and most people spend their time on or near the beach. If you want stories and details, that’s where you’ll find them. Come on.”
She didn’t hesitate anymore. Ignoring Eve’s raised eyebrows and the curious looks from two customers, she pulled him outside.
“For starters, you need to dress better. This isn’t Wall Street or any other city like New York.
It's casual, fun, and warm here. Lose the tie, ditch the business clothes, and honestly, those shoes have to go. Get some sneakers or a pair of sandals—even flip-flops would be a big improvement.”
He surprised her by not fighting, considering the last time they’d met, with his horrible haircut and the drama that had followed. He was not a small man by any means, and Chelsea noted his cooperation right along with the heated excitement she felt as she touched his arm.
“Where are we going?”
“To the beach.”
“I’m not dressed for this.”
“We just established this if you were paying attention.
Okay, let's go this way.” She steered him to a shop a few steps away, its brightly colored shirts and sunglasses making it the perfect spot to find what she was looking for.
“You want a story, connections, and networking. First, you need to blend in a bit, look like everyone else, or no one is going to talk.”
She didn’t like that she was helping, but she nudged him toward a rack with the latest men’s styles. “Pick something out, and make sure you have more than one option for outside. I don’t know where you're staying, but after this, you’ll need to change.”
“Fine.” His displeasure sent a pulse of joy through her body.
Half an hour later, he carried a large bag of items he’d chosen, including a funky pair of red sunglasses she’d insisted he wear. They walked the path beside the beach, heading back to her shop. She needed a diversion to keep him from going back in so she could get some work done.
“It's really nice here. It’s beautiful, and there’s this mix of excitement, calm, and happiness.”
Chelsea looked around at what she knew as home, smiling.
“Yes, it's why so many who come to live here never leave. Even in winter, it hums with that happy, peaceful charm only a beachside town could have. Even in the freezing cold, wind, or any other weather, imagine waking up to that view every day.”
She stretched her hand out to the beautiful horizon of sand and water; its luxurious view made her heart swell every time she gazed upon it. “Here, sit.” The bench near her salon was a perfect spot to take a break.
It unnerved her that a man so different from her and from everyone in her life, so completely not her type, could send sparks flying in all directions. If not for the constant struggle to keep her wits in check, she’d be a lost woman, wondering if he felt those things, too.
It annoyed her, yet it excited her. She didn’t want to feel what she felt, especially for a man like him.
Still, now was as good a time as any to find peace, so perhaps he’d leave her alone for good.
She needed to focus her energy elsewhere, on business and on a new place, which was a high priority if the building sold.
“Well, it's certainly a better view than the city. I've looked at that for many years. Sure, I’ve traveled, but New York has always been home. I could get used to this, but I still don’t understand how this is going to get me a front-page breaking story. I need to find people to network with, connect with, and dig out stories. I’m told your salon is the best place for that. ”
Bored with the conversation and the never-ending, annoying business attitude, Chelsea got up, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the sand a few feet away.
For the past hour, Grant felt like he could hardly breathe. He was overwhelmed by how much he wanted her. Still, she got on his nerves, insisting that he buy new clothes even though he thought he had enough.
Business was business, and she kept his mind out of it, which confused things more than he appreciated, yet she intrigued him. It was an odd mix of excitement, boredom, and happiness he’d never imagined.
Dragonfly Cove was a lovely spot. He had no doubt he’d been here before, but this was business for the time being. Shopping for new clothing and walking along the beach were great diversions, full of beauty and fun. However, it wasn't going to save his friend's failing newspaper.
“Come sit with me.”
Her request caught him off guard. Following her lead, he tore off his shoes and fancy socks. A few steps into the warm sand, he sat, uncomfortable though it was, sinking into the softness and regarding the woman beside him.
Perfectly content to enjoy the excitement beyond her, her lips pursed happily, her hands folded neatly in her lap, she looked like an angel. It shook him to his core, torn between the excitement of what he felt between them and the joy of the moment.
She’d caught him off guard, unaware, and left this long-time newsman speechless for the first time in his life.
“Have you ever hunted for treasure?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Her eyes slid to his, warmth in them, with just the slightest hint of mockery. “I meant with a metal detector, not in a flashy jewelry store.”
“A few times but not recently.”
“It's a blast. You should try it sometime. Maybe you’ll find something exciting that would make the front page of your paper.” There were questions; he saw them in her eyes, things she wanted to say and things she wished to know.
Feeling oddly like a kid again, he rolled up his business pants and held out his hand. “Come on, Chelsea. If we are going to play in the sand, we might as well test the water.”