Page 13 of Her Magic Light

“Is this the kind of look you like?” My question was professional curiosity, but Helen swallowed.

“You’ve done a lot of pretty work,” she said. “It’s almost overwhelming.”

“How do you see your hair?” Sometimes it helped them if I started simple. “If anything were possible, what would you choose?”

She shrugged. “Something other than brown?”

Kate laughed. “But that’s as simple as being blonde. You don’t need Meira for that.” She glanced at me. “No offense again, Meira.”

I chuckled. “None taken.” I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d done a simple hair color. Nothing where light didn’t play through a vivid spectrum of colors. This work called to me like no other.

“Maybe seeing my hair will help you decide.” I paused. Revealing my inspiration for my hair would reveal the hummingbird to one more person, and I was wary now Kate had reacted with such interest. I shook my head at the errant thought. That was too fanciful. The bird didn’t belong to me, and I didn’t need to protect it.

As if my thoughts had summoned it back, the hummingbird darted in front of the window, and Kate gasped before pointing. “There’s her inspiration for her hair. Did you know that? Have you ever seen anything like it?”

Helen ventured closer to the window and looked out before looking over her shoulder at me. “I can see the similarities in the colors. How did you match the feathers so closely?”

I shrugged.Just dumb luckdidn’t sound like a good enough answer.I followed my heartwas equally nonsensical. “I mixed my own colors until I arrived at the shades I wanted.”

“And that’s what you’d do for me?” She wandered back toward me but stopped before she reached touching distance.

“I’d certainly try.” I patted Kate’s shoulder. “Right. You’re good to go. You like?” I held up a mirror behind her to show her the back of her hair once more, and she squealed.

“It’s gorgeous. I’m going to tell everyone I know what a genius you are.” She pulled me into a tight embrace before collecting her purse from the floor and rushing to show Bess her new hair. At my request, Bess collected my pay.

I looked at Helen. Her posture was as rigid as the moment she’d strolled in. “Want to take a seat and we can go through some ideas?”

She hesitated before sidling in front of the chair. When she sat, it was a slow movement, like she didn’t want her butt to touch down. Like she thought the seat cushion might swallow her up.

“It’s okay,” I soothed, although God knew why she’d even come. “We won’t do anything to your hair until you’re one hundred percent on board, and we can do a demi color or stain the first time, if you’re not sure. They wash out faster than the permanent ones. I prefer happy customers.” I smiled encouragingly and picked up my portfolio. “We can just discuss ideas. No commitments today.”

Helen flipped to the first page.

six

Helen continued flipping slowly through the pages, every so often looking up from the book and glancing out through the front window, as though her whole life depended on what hair color she picked.

I continued tidying up after working on Kate’s hair, rinsing the sink, putting colors back in their position on my shelf, collecting trash, and wiping down surfaces. “You don’t have to decide anything today,” I murmured.

She didn’t answer, and I didn’t press. But Helen was easily the most skittish client I’d had in, actually looking like she was about to leap from my chair and bolt back out the salon.

The hummingbird I already thought of as mine zipped in front of the window again, and Helen glanced up at her. “You really captured those colors in your hair, you know.”

“Thank you.” I ran my hand over the top of my head, suddenly self-conscious. I’d modeled myself after a bird. How un-serious did it make me? Surely the opposite of suited, sensible Helen. I’d run out of things to do, so I studied the woman as she poured over the pages. From the other side of the shop, Bess’s eyes kept straying to the two of us. Finally, she raised her eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. I wasn’t in the habit of rushing customers.

“How do you do it, really?” She brought her head up sharply, the movement so sudden, I stepped back.

“I mix the colors—” I pointed to bottles of dye on my shelf. “And I just go from there. It’s a lot like painting. I find it almost therapeutic, but don’t tell Bess I said that.” I grinned as I spoke. My boss probably wouldn’t like me telling a client my job was anything less than hard work and definitely worth all the money.

Helen merely nodded. “I see.” But her gaze wandered to the big window again and her expression didn’t register any real understanding.

I stopped to enjoy the antics of the hummingbird outside. It swooped and dived, the acrobatics came faster and faster until my little friend had become only a blur of color.

Still, Helen didn’t choose.

I wiped my hand on one of my rags and fixed the positioning of some of the bottles on the shelf so I could see their labels at a glance. From what I could overhear, the talk in the rest of the salon was still about the unexpected presence of the secret service-like guys.

“You think I should dye hair in a way inspired by all of the mystery men?” I grinned as Helen switched her gaze to me. “I’m thinking moody blacks and deep blues. Maybe some streaks of dark gray. Could be a fun way to commemorate the excitement in Sweetwater.”

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