Page 97 of The Tattered Gloves
AFTER PUTTING IN a few hours at the bookstore, Sam and I enjoyed a quiet walk home, expecting to arrive to an even quieter house filled with the smells of a home-cooked meal.
What we instead stumbled into was the exact opposite.
Sheer chaos.
And, to Sam’s utter disappointment… not a single home-cooked anything in sight.
“What the heck?” I found myself saying the moment I closed the door behind us.
“Your aunt decided to open the salon… in a week,” Allison announced before shoving a slice of pizza in her mouth.
I guessed we were eating pizza.
Again.
“Why a week?” Sam asked, helping himself to the box of pepperoni pizza that was lying on the kitchen table.
“Well, there are several reasons,” Addy responded, appearing in the hallway, dressed in overalls and a Christmas sweater. She must have been in my closet — or the part of my closet she still occupied — because she had a handful of fabrics and knickknacks I distinctly remembered seeing shoved next to the few clothes I had hanging in there.
“But, mostly, I just want to,” she added.
“Well, who can argue with that? How can we help?” Sam asked, his mouth stuffed full of pizza, obviously realizing our laid-back night was clearly out the window… along with his much-needed haircut.
“I’ve already got Allison working on everything marketing-related. I’m not starting a business from the ground up, but it never hurts to get the word out.”
“How has the response been from your clients?” I asked, grabbing a slice for myself before Sam ate it all.
“Pretty good,” she answered, busying herself with the things she’d grabbed from the closet. “There are a few, mostly ones from the neighborhood, who aren’t thrilled with the idea of driving all the way downtown for their haircut, but I think they’ll adjust.”
“All the way?” I laughed.
“Well, when you’re used to walking the length of a few houses, I guess even a mile can seem like an adjustment.”
“Then, we’ll just have to make it worth it,” I said.
“Agreed.”
Over the next few hours, we all worked together, boxing up Addy’s hair products, making pillows for the small lobby area, and doing several other tiny tasks. I’d even tried to show my crafty side by painting an old chest of drawers she planned on using for storage in the restroom. Unfortunately, Allison had to take over when I’d proven to be neither crafty nor neat.
“Maybe you should just stick to reading,” Sam said, patting me on the back.
“Bite me,” I mumbled.
“Right here? In front of your aunt? That would be awfully rude of me,” he said, completely straight-faced.
I caught Addy grin as she ducked into the garage, a chorus of laughter following her.
“You’re crazy.”
“From where I’m sitting, you’re both crazy,” Allison commented, hunched over her homework.
She’d finished setting up everything online for Addy over an hour ago, again reminding me that a child could do what she’d just accomplished, and then proceeded to pull out her pile of Spanish homework.
She’d been complaining ever since.
I really did feel bad for her.
Or at least I was trying.
