Page 50 of Second Start: Family
As the three older kids cleared the plates, Molly pointed out Vicky’s braid to her sister, who breathed out, “Ohhh.”
“It’s called a French braid,” Vicky said. “I can show you how to do it.”
Both girls looked at Kenzie. “Do you braid your hair?”
Vicky smothered a grin at their unsubtle shift to Kenzie. Hall started to object, but Vicky’s gesture stopped him.
“Not very often now,” Kenzie said. “But my mom braided my hair, too. I used to love to sit and have her brush my hair, slow, long strokes, then braid it. I would talk and talk and talk, and she wouldn’t say a word, concentrating on putting one layer of hair over the others, then switching them around to grasp the next layer.”
“Didn’t it hurt?”
Kenzie blinked back to the moment at Lizzie’s question. “Hurt?”
“Pull on your head — you know, the way it does. Mommy said it was the price of beauty. She could braid really fast.”
Instead of answering, Kenzie said, “Would you like me to braid your hair?”
Lizzie shrank back slightly. Kenzie recognized the body language of someone who did not want to be called on in class.
Molly considered the offer, clearly weighing the price of beauty and whether she was willing to pay it.
“Yes,” she said at last. “Please.”
“We’ll do that after we all help with the dishes.”
“No need,” Hall said. “Dessert—”
“Let’s do these dishes first,” Vicky said, quelling Hall’s protest with a practiced teacher eye. “Then we can have dessert with a clear conscience. And there won’t be much to do after.”
Dessert was a cake.
“We had to make two, so we had a white layer and a chocolate layer — that’s the surprise under the frosting,” Lizzie said. “Even Dan helped.”
“We ate one,” Bobby said proudly.
“This is the better one,” Molly assured them.
It listed slightly and more than a sprinkling of crumbs showed in the frosting, but clearly Hall retained most of the lessons learned on the birthday cake, as well as imparted them to his kids.
Cake eaten and those dishes cleaned, Molly said, with an air of Joan of Arc inviting herself to her execution, “You can braid my hair now.”
They brought two chairs from the dining room into the family room, so Kenzie could sit behind Molly.
Vicky kept the conversational ball rolling with Hall, talking about the beef market, but mostly everyone watched — Lizzie with worried concentration — as Kenzie first brushed Molly’s hair, starting from the bottom, undoing tangles as she went, feeling the girl relax and watching Lizzie’s expression ease to wariness, then interest.
“There. All done.”
“Can I look in the mirror in the bathroom? Will you come with me?”
“Of course. Let’s take this little mirror, too,” Kenzie fished it out of her bag, “so you can see the back.”
“Ohhhh,” was all Molly said until they returned to the family room audience. “It looks so pretty. And my head doesn’t hurt.”
Kenzie kept her face straight as she said, “I would be happy to do your hair, too, Lizzie. Would you like that?”
“Can I have something else, instead, Miss Kenzie?”
“That would depend on what it is.”
