Page 92 of Hungry Hearts

“Thanks, Kaitlin. I’ll be right out.”

A new client meant one of two things: lots of talking and getting to know each other, or little talk because we don’t know each other yet. Either way, I haven’t been myself with my clients or my staff, but after learning to cope with Adam’s death, I’ve become fairly good at faking it. Only my family can tell the difference. Even Dan and Kaitlin are mostly unaware something is off since I met them when I was a year into my grieving.

I finish the last set of towels and stack them on the shelf below the chemicals and force a hospitable smile on my face.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I say to the gorgeous blonde sitting in our waiting area. “I’m Maia.”

She stands, and I’m in awe of her even more. Tall, lean, and runway-model gorgeous, only with curves and kindness in her green eyes.

“It’s awesome to meet you.” She shakes my hand like she’s in awe and meeting a celebrity. “Thank you so much for squeezing me in.”

Her perkiness helps ease some of the pain in my chest. “I’m glad we could accommodate. Follow me.” I lead her to my chair and drape a cape around her neck, picking up her hair and moving it to the side while I snap it in place. “You have gorgeous hair. What are you looking to have done today?”

“I’d love the works. A personalized consultation, your advice on color, cut, and style, but since I was able to squeeze in as your last appointment and don’t want to keep you here later than necessary, let’s start with a wash and trim.”

I pick up the ends of her hair, which are in excellent health. She doesn’t need anything done to her hair other than a micro trim.

“We can start there and talk about your usual hair care, how you style it, your ideal length.” I lead her to the washing station and she settles her neck in the divot of the washbowl. “If you don’t want to wait for an opening, Dan may have time next week. He’s amazing and works two nights a week, if that works for your schedule.”

“I’m sure he’s amazing, but you came highly recommended.”

I turn on the water and test out the temperature. “Too hot? Too cold?”

“It’s perfect.” Instead of closing her eyes like most of my clients do, she stares up at me. “Since I’m trusting my hair in your hands, tell me a little about yourself, Maia.”

I glance down at her quickly then go back to washing her hair. Usually, I’m the one to ask about my clients’ lives, not the other way around. I like to keep them talking so I don’t have to talk about myself.

“I opened Storybook Styles four years ago. We do a lot of weddings and special events, but we also offer a princess fairy tale session for little girls. Actually, I’ve had my share of teenage girls come in for those sessions too. The little girls are my favorite though.”

“That sounds amazing.”

I glance at the rock on her left hand. I wonder if she has a daughter and was recommended to me by one of the other moms. “Do you...” It’s rude to ask a woman if she has children, especially not knowing her story. “Do you want me to let the conditioner rest on your hair a little longer?”

“Sure. I’ve got time.”

I never ask a client and always suggest it when they have dry hair. Hers isn’t dry at all. I was so distracted when Kaitlin told me I had a client, I forgot to ask her name.

“What is it you do...I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Avery.” The woman’s green eyes don’t leave my face, as if she’s reading mine for clues. Clues to what, I have no idea.

“So, my friend told me you are amazing with the little girls. Did you always want to do something like this? Dress little girls up like princesses?”

I curl my lip between my teeth while I consider how much to say. It will depend on how much she knows.

“Who is your friend? I offer a ten percent discount for referrals and a fifteen percent discount for new customers who are referred.” I pick up the nozzle and rinse out the conditioner.

“Oh, my friend isn’t a client of yours. I don’t think. Or maybe. I’m not sure.”

I chuckle. “Possibly but maybe not a client yet she recommended me to give you the works? That’s a lot of faith in me.”

“They’ve only had the most wonderful things to say about you, especially how you are with the little girls. And with your daughter.”

Odd. So it’s someone who has seen me with Ruby? I keep my clientele and personal life separate. I squeeze out her hair and drape a towel over her head and help her sit up.

“What’s your friend’s name?”

She looks up at me from under the towel, her eyes unreadable, but not unkind. “Ryder. Ryder Benton.”

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