Page 19 of Beck & Coll
“I grew up here,” she shared conspiratorially when I commented on her prowess.
“It seems like a very idyllic place to grow up.”
“For the most part it was. When I graduated from high school, I couldn’t wait to shed my small-town experience for one in the big city. I got my bachelor’s from Hughes-Hurston University in D.C. Thought I would make a life there?—”
“Just like Beckham Strong, huh?”
She blushed. “Yeah. Beckham’s my cousin.”
That little piece of information caught me off guard. “You don’t say?”
“Yeah. His mom is my aunt. Since our family is from D.C., I thought it would be a good fit… and it was,” she added quickly. “I liked it—loved some parts of it, but I missed the Pacific Northwest.”
“Just like Beckham.”
“I guess it’s just in our blood.”
“I guess so.”
“Anyway, there are several tours of Jackson Falls. How did you want to see it? There’s a tour bus, a helicopter tour that flies over the various mountain ranges, there’s a horse and carriage tour, there’s a train tour, there are river tours, and there’s even an ATV tour.”
The four bellinis had my mind muddled because I felt overwhelmed by all of the options.
Malena must have sensed my distress. “You don’t have to make a decision right now, Ms. Kingsley. You can take these brochures with you and read over them. When you’re ready to book, just come see me.”
“Okay,” I agreed thankfully.
“If you want to do something right here at the lodge, Mrs. Strong herself will be leading a tour of the property in about fifteen minutes. It’s free to guests and takes you all over the property on a small open-air trolley. There are only two seats left on that tour. Would you like me to secure one of them for you?”
“Yes. I would love to take a tour of the resort.”
The property atManor at Sienna Sunset Resortwas gorgeous. The 386 acres were covered with every variation of the very best that nature had to offer. There was lush vegetation, flower gardens, ponds, streams, a river, and the property had the nerve to back up to a mountain range. There were trails, a working horse ranch, and a discreet area featuring tee-pee style tents that housed the outdoor spa treatment rooms. Not to mention the twelve distinctive glamping cottages that were scattered around the development.
The lodge itself offered fifty-five well-appointed guest rooms, ten high-end suites, four upscale restaurants, an intimate auditorium where they hosted live entertainment, an indoor spa, a small conference center where guests could complete “wilderness workshops,” and a currently defunct but once state-of-the-art hair salon.
Mrs. Strong was funny, informative, engaging, witty, and personable during the tour. She fielded questions from all of the tour participants during and well after the tour had ended. When the last of the tour group attendees finally drifted away, I moved over to her.
“Collins Kingsley.” She offered me the brightest of smiles. “Did you enjoy the tour?”
“I definitely enjoyed it. The property is more beautiful in person than it was on the internet.” I took a deep swallow. “One of the things that intrigued me the most was the hair salon. What happened to it? You host weddings here. It seems like a hair salon would be a moneymaker.”
“Oh, it was.” She assured me with a glint in her eyes. “When Brad and I got this place to not only turn a profit but become lucrative, every member of both of our immediate families wanted to pursue a new life in the Pacific Northwest. Because my family is in the haircare business, most of my people, the women in my family, were naturals at hair styling. The salon opened, and we were off and running.”
She sighed, before continuing. “The problem came when those nieces and baby cousins of mine wanted to settle down and start families. Jackson Falls is a lot of things but diverse? At that time, it was not. It was very rural, and the only Blacks here were either Sumners or Strongs. Nobody, male or female, could find a love interest that was the right shade of brown that they weren’t related to. The white men and women were interested, but it was more of a fetish thing. Some went ahead and took up with the white suitors, and to a lesser extent, the Native or Hispanic ones. Most of the women from our families ended up heading right back to D.C. and Massachusetts with promises of returning once they married. It didn’t happen.
“I had to hire replacement stylists. It was so difficult keeping the salon staffed… not in general but with enough stylists thatwere proficient in doing Black hair. They say that white stylists can do Black hair nowadays. Not the ones coming out of the local beauty schools. Enough Black brides and lodge guests were displeased that I couldn’t justify keeping it open. I closed it about seven years ago.”
“Does the population still lack diversity now?” I probed. I hadn’t made it into town yet. I had no idea what the racial make-up of Jackson Falls, Oregon was.
“Interesting thing. As Jackson Falls and our neighboring town, Chinook Woods, have grown, this has become probably one of the most diverse enclaves in the entire state. I think Black people come to visit the lodge, fall in love with the surroundings, and relocate here. The more Black faces that move in, the more comfortable other Black people become with considering a move here. Jackson Falls is about 30 percent Black, 30 percent white, and 30 percent Native. The other 10 percent is probably Hispanic. Chinook Woods is about the same.”
“That’s fascinating. I can’t wait to venture into town and see what you all have going on in Jackson Falls.”
She chuckled.
“Is there a hair salon that caters to Black women in town?”
“There isn’t. Not yet. I would love to get my salon back up and running before that happens.”
