Читать книгу Day By Day - Delia Parr - Страница 7

F or the first time in over twenty years, Judy Roberts once again welcomed the start of another school year with open arms and a huge sigh of relief. After a long, frustrating summer juggling her job, getting to know her grandson and almost depleting her meager savings to keep him in day care while she was at work, he was now in school in first grade.

Less than a week later when she hurried to work, she was not sure if her life had gotten more or less complicated now that Brian was in school. She had to get out of bed an hour earlier than usual to get him up, dressed and fed, and walk him to school before she could go to work.

“My life’s just complicated. Sometimes more, sometimes less,” she muttered as she unlocked the front door to the beauty salon and slipped inside. She let up the shade on the door and hit a series of wall switches. As the neon sign, Pretty Ladies, flickered to life, bright lights illuminated both sides of the salon. Behind the reception desk, on either side of the room, two stations sat opposite one another, with a row of six hair dryers and seats stretched across the rear wall. Behind that wall, there was a customer lounge and a ladies’ room. Throughout the salon, a fresh coat of dove-gray paint-covered walls cracked with age that matched the well-worn tile floor. Mauve accents, including baskets of dried flowers hanging in between the stations, offered a soothing atmosphere that helped ease her flustered state.

Her mind raced through a list of things she needed to do as manager, to get the salon ready for business. She stood behind the main reception desk that anchored the converted storefront on Welles Avenue, the main street that the town locals simply called “the avenue,” and opened the appointment book. No computers here. Pretty Ladies was just an old-fashioned beauty salon that had survived through the lean years, during the sixties and seventies, when one business after another had closed along the avenue only to reopen a short while later in nearby malls. In addition to the standard appointment book, the desk held an old, battered recipe box that held index cards for individual customers, recording the specifics of their hair dye colors, preferred brands of permanents, and personal preferences.

Unlike the new and very trendy unisex hair and nail salon just a few blocks away that drew newcomers to town, Pretty Ladies catered mainly to the elderly residents who lived in the senior citizens’ complex, Welles Towers, or longtime, loyal customers who preferred to remain with the owner, Ann Porter, or Judy, the only other hairdresser at the shop.

She quickly counted the appointments for the day and smiled. Ann was only working in the morning today, with her first appointment at ten o’clock, but Judy had eight appointments, starting with one of her favorite clients here at nine o’clock and ending with an afternoon at the Towers. Not a great day in terms of what she might earn, but decent, although she was still worried she might have to get a second job now that she had another mouth to feed.

Still smiling, she answered the phone when it rang, even though the salon did not open for another half an hour. After making an appointment for one of Ann’s customers for tomorrow, she stored her handbag at her hair station and went directly to the customer lounge in the rear of the salon. Within ten minutes, she set up the coffeemaker and a kettle of water for tea, put a fresh tablecloth on the snack table, and set out the packets of sugar, both natural and artificial, powdered creamer, napkins and paper plates.

At eight forty-five, she answered the usual knock at the front door and signed for a box of goodies from McAllister’s Bakery that held the standard order of three dozen assorted baked goods. By design, these were far too many doughnuts or Danish or sticky buns for the customers to consume, but she would take whatever was left to the Towers for the seniors, a daily ritual that almost always ended her day on an upbeat note.

Before she had a chance to carry the box back to the lounge area, Ann arrived a full hour ahead of time. At sixty-two, she was only five years older than Judy, but she was no longer the vibrant, tireless woman who had spent the past thirty years working side by side with Judy as both employer and friend. Beyond the common bond of their vocation, they had shared the challenges of raising a child and the sorrows of widowhood. While Judy had maintained her health, Ann had packed a good extra forty pounds on her once-slender frame and had battled recurring bouts of gout over the past year that had zapped her energy, although her sense of humor was still intact.

“You’re early,” Judy remarked, holding tight to the box.

“Alice Conners called me at home last night. She’s not feeling up to coming in for her ten o’clock, so I promised I’d stop by her house instead. I just need to get my bag.” She paused, stared at the box in Judy’s hands and pointed to the back of the shop. “Take that into the lounge. Quick. Before I gain another three pounds just thinking about what’s inside or my big toe turns bright red and starts throbbing again.”

Judy chuckled. “Just thinking about treats from McAllister’s isn’t the problem. It’s eating two or three a day that gets you into trouble, in more ways than one. Baked goods are off-limits. Doctor’s orders, remember?” she insisted before she turned and started toward the lounge.

Ann followed her for a few steps, but turned to get to her station. “No baked goods. No coffee. No tea. No chocolate. And that’s just a tip of the forbidden list. Boy, isn’t living with gout swell?” She sighed. “Still, it has been a couple of months since I’ve had any problems, and I’ve been dreaming about Spinners for weeks. All that sweet, buttery dough laced with cinnamon and topped with a mound of chocolate icing.” She sighed loudly again. “Set aside a chocolate-iced one for me, will you? Just one couldn’t hurt.”

Ann was off her diet more than she was on it, and Judy was loath to encourage her to do something that would adversely affect her health. When she got to the lounge, she set the box down, lifted out the tray, set it on the table and grinned. “Sorry. No Spinners today,” she replied, relieved at the day’s offerings.

“Any cheese Danish?”

“No. Just miniature sticky buns that you don’t really like. There’s still some fresh fruit in the refrigerator,” she suggested, hoping to convince Ann to follow her diet and try to prevent another debilitating episode that would either keep her off her feet for a few weeks or trigger another eating binge that would add even more pounds.

Judy stored the box away and opened the refrigerator. “I have a yellow Delicious apple, a pear and a navel orange. And there’s a quart of cider you can warm up if you want something hot to drink.”

“One orange. Three sticky buns. And don’t argue. I’m still the boss around here, and just in case I need to remind you, it’s dangerous to argue with a postmenopausal woman.”

“That’s funny. I distinctly remember my boss telling me just last week that I should ignore her when she asked for something she shouldn’t eat,” she teased, even as she arranged a plate with the orange and three sticky buns and put it back into the refrigerator.

“That must have been your other boss. The one with willpower.”

Judy laughed, went back into the shop and grabbed her smock that she put on while she made her way to the reception desk where Ann stood waiting with her bag of tools and supplies. When Judy nearly tripped, she stopped to hike up her slacks.

“New slacks?” Ann asked.

“I got them off the clearance rack. I meant to hem them, but as usual these days, time has a way of running out before all my chores are done.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “Things should calm down a bit now that Brian’s in school.”

“I’m sure they will. Just be careful, will you? I don’t want you to trip and fall and hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Ann nodded. “I should be back in plenty of time for my ten o’clock,” she said before she headed toward the door.

“I’ll be here. I’ve got plenty to do. It’s supply day, remember? In between appointments, I’ll be inventorying the stock.”

Ann looked back over shoulder and lifted one brow. “What about my goodies?”

“One orange. Three sticky buns. I have them on a plate in the refrigerator, although it’s against my better judgment.”

Grinning, Ann waved goodbye. Before the door closed behind her, Judy was already reviewing her appointments for today. The first one, for Madge Stevens, a longtime client, brought a lift to her heart that the second appointment with Mrs. Hart quickly erased, and she prayed for an extra dose of patience to get through it.

When Madge arrived a few minutes later, promptly at nine o’clock, Judy greeted her with a smile and a bear hug. “I’ve missed you.”

Madge returned the hug, stepped back and grimaced. “I’ve missed you, too, but I’m afraid my hair has missed you even more. I was going to borrow that special conditioner you gave me for Andrea when she was getting chemo, but she’d used it all up and neither one of us could remember the name of it.”

“No problem. Andrea’s still doing well?”

Madge smiled. “It’s been two years now, and she’s still cancer-free, thankfully.”

Judy inspected Madge’s blond, shoulder-length hair and grinned. “Sun and salt air might be your nightmare, but they’re a hairdresser’s best friend. Don’t worry. I’ve got some of the conditioner. I’ll use it today and send you home with some, but we’ll have to snip off those split ends first.”

Madge shrugged. “Getting my hair cut is a small price to pay for being able to rent a place for a month at the shore with my sisters. Jenny and the girls were able to stay for the whole time, and Andrea even managed to get down for a few days each week. What a great month!”

An only child, Judy shook her head and wished she had had a sister or two like Madge. Judy had not had a single day off the entire summer, either. Not since Brian had arrived. “Go on back. I’ll give you a good wash, then we’ll see about taking care of those split ends.”

Within moments, she had Madge freshly shampooed and settled into the chair at her station, and she had a tube of conditioner on the counter for Madge to take home. Judy rearranged the plastic drape to protect Madge’s lavender outfit and started to comb her hair free of snags. “We’ll have you looking perky again in no time,” she assured her.

Madge chuckled. “Now that Sarah is in school, maybe I’ll have a little more time to get perky and help Russell at the store, too.”

“Business is still good?” Judy asked and wondered how or why anyone would buy the gourmet food or expensive trinkets for cats, all available at Russell’s store.

“At the Purrple Palace? It’s going perfectly,” Madge teased. “I’m so pleased for Russell. He’s worked hard to make the store a success.”

“And Sarah. Is she is still attending the preschool program?”

“She turned five in the spring, so she’s in full-day kindergarten. Remember when my boys and your Candy started school? They had half-day kindergarten sessions back then. That’s all changed now, I suppose to accommodate so many working mothers.”

Judy’s hands stilled as memories of her daughter surfaced. When Candy started school, Judy was young and hopeful, with her husband, Frank, at her side. Now he was gone, and Candy was somewhere in California battling her addiction again.

Madge pointed to the photograph Judy had taped to her mirror. “Is that your grandson?”

Judy looked into the mirror and locked her gaze with Madge’s. Although they were very close in age, the two women looked very different. Madge wore her years well. She had a deft hand with her makeup and both the time and the money to make sure her hair was colored well and styled fashionably. Like the proverbial shoemaker’s son who had no shoes, Judy had little time for her own hair. She wore it short and shaggy now, and her gray roots reminded her she was long overdue for a color touchup. Struck by the difference between them, as well as Madge’s question, she took a deep breath and turned her attention back to Madge’s hair. “Yes. He’s in first grade. You’ve been away, so I guess you haven’t heard. Brian’s staying with me…for a while longer.”

Madge frowned. “I thought I’d heard he was only going to be with you for the summer and that he’d be going back to school in California.”

Judy took another deep breath. “Candy’s not well,” she whispered, relying once again on the euphemism she had used for so many years now, although Madge knew all too well that Candy had been battling drug addiction for most of her life. Madge had been there through Candy’s rebellious high school years, her unfortunate marriage, and the scene at Frank’s funeral four years ago that had changed the rift between mother and daughter from temporary to permanent, at least as far as Candy was concerned. Judy glanced up and looked into the mirror again, half expecting to see her broken heart staring back at her, along with Madge’s sympathy.

“I’m so sorry,” Madge murmured.

Judy blinked back tears. “Me, too. For the past few years, I thought not knowing how she was doing was bad, but not knowing where she is now is even worse. Brian’s only six, but he asks questions about his mother and his father that I can’t answer.”

Madge nodded. “Sarah’s had questions, too. She was three when we adopted her, but she still asks me to find her mommy for her. Death isn’t a concept she understands yet, I’m afraid.”

Judy swallowed hard and started trimming off the split ends. “I think I could handle explaining Candy’s death to Brian a lot easier than trying to explain why his mommy doesn’t come for him when she’s still alive. I’ve told him how sick she is. Unfortunately, he knows that, too, but he’s so young. He doesn’t understand drug addiction any more than I do, and I’m afraid he’s seen a lot of things he shouldn’t have.”

“At our age, raising a child isn’t easy,” Madge murmured.

“What about Brian’s father? Isn’t he able to take care of him?”

Judy snipped another section of hair and let her hand drop. “Duke?” She snorted. “Would you believe he drove that child cross-country on a motorcycle? Then he waited with him on my front porch until I got home from work, handed me an envelope with some legal papers making me Brian’s guardian and cycled off into the sunset all by his lonesome.”

“He didn’t!”

Judy cocked her head and studied Madge’s hair. Satisfied with the trim, she worked some conditioner through the sun-damaged strands of hair. “He sure enough did. I’m trying really hard, but raising Brian is a whole lot harder than raising Candy.” She sighed. “Or maybe I’m just a little bit older than I was back then, and now I don’t have Frank to help me. But at least school’s in session now, and I don’t have to pay a sitter while I’m working. They have an after-school program, too, so I can pick him up at six o’clock. That helps.”

Madge did not respond for several minutes. When Judy picked up her blow-dryer, Madge gripped the end of the dryer and held on to it. “We adopted Sarah, so our situations are different. I know that. But I have a friend who is going through the same thing as you are, raising her grandchildren. She’s in her fifties, too, like we are. I’m sure you know Barbara Montgomery, don’t you?”

“Not very well. Her granddaughters are in Brian’s class, though. She’s Ann’s customer. Owns Grandmother’s Kitchen on Antiques Row at the other end of town. It’s so sad about what happened to her son, but she hasn’t been in to the salon to have Ann do her hair since the funeral, and I haven’t seen her at school much, either.”

“It’s a tragedy. A true tragedy, especially for the twins.” She sighed. “Poor babies. First their mother runs off and disappears. Then they lose their daddy in a senseless crime,” she murmured as she shook her head. “I’m really worried about Barbara, too. Between losing Steve, raising the girls, running her shop, dealing with the stress of the continuing police investigation and praying they find the monster responsible for Steve’s death, she’s having a rough time all around,” Madge whispered.

Judy toyed with the cord on the dryer. “To be honest, I’ve been so busy with Brian and work all summer, I haven’t had much time to myself,” she murmured.

Madge smiled and let go of the dryer. “Maybe you and Barbara should get together. You have a lot in common, with both of you raising grandchildren. It might help.”

“You might be right,” Judy said absently while she turned the idea over in her mind.

“You know, Barbara’s been a friend of mine for years. She may be too proud to admit it, but she could probably use a friend in the same situation right about now, too.”

Barbara Montgomery, along with her husband, were definitely “old” Welleswood, like Judy, but they had been among the town elite for years, while Judy’s background was decidedly working class. Would the problems they were each encountering raising their grandchildren be enough to create a bond of friendship? Eager to find out, Judy shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“It’d be good for you. For both of you. Why don’t I stop by her shop this afternoon before I pick up Sarah from school? I’ll talk to her and tell her to stop in to see you on her way home from work. I think she finishes up at four.”

“That’s all right. I’ll…I’ll make sure I walk over one day later this week. Today’s not really a good day for me. I’ve got to check the supplies and place an order. And somehow I wanted to find time to color my hair, so I may not even have time for lunch and still be at the Towers for the afternoon,” Judy insisted and switched on the blow-dryer to prevent Madge from arguing. Whether or not Judy would be able to find a friend in Barbara remained to be seen. Finding support or getting advice from someone else in a similar situation, however, was something she knew she really needed.

Madge could understand the challenges Judy faced—to a point. But she had not walked a single day down the path that led to having a grown child abdicate her responsibilities as a parent or raising a grandchild or making the emotional and financial adjustments that had become a necessary part of Judy’s life. Judy did not know Barbara Montgomery very well at all, except to know they lived and worked in very different social circumstances. She suspected she might have more in common with another single working woman trying to make ends meet than she would with Barbara, who was married to a very successful CPA and owned her own business to boot.

Judy finished styling Madge’s hair and met her gaze in the mirror. “Better?”

Madge smiled. “Much better. Thank you. I’ll need another appointment for early October for a coloring, though. By then, you and Barbara might be friends,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” Judy replied, but she was not nearly as certain about the prospect as Madge seemed to be. She removed the plastic cape, hiked up her slacks again and swept up while Madge left to use the ladies’ room.

When Madge returned, she pressed a bill into Judy’s hand and took a bite out of one of the miniature sticky buns that had been in the lounge. “You take care of yourself, and don’t forget to go over to see Barbara,” she murmured and left before Judy could respond.

She rang up the charge on the cash register and slipped the change, her tip, into her pocket. She was not surprised that Madge had tried to be so supportive, as well as generous. She was surprised, however, when Madge returned half an hour later. “I stopped to see Barbara. When I was talking to you earlier, I forgot that she closes the shop at three o’clock now that she picks up the girls after school. She said she’d have some time around one if you wanted to stop in to see her then. I know you said it was a really busy day for you, but sometimes you just have to leave one thing go because something else is more important.”

“Like coloring my hair? Thanks a bunch.” Judy chuckled to herself and shook her head. “Do you ever leave anything undone?”

“Of course not,” Madge teased.

The phone rang and interrupted their banter. As soon as she answered the phone and heard Mrs. Hart’s voice, her heart sank. When the elderly woman canceled her appointment and scheduled another one with Ann later in the week, Judy tried to remain polite. She was more relieved than disappointed not to have to deal with this particular customer today, in spite of the fact that she needed everyone she could get these days.

As soon as she hung up, she looked at Madge and shrugged her shoulders. “Mrs. Hart canceled her appointment for today, so unless someone walks in, I think you’re my only customer this morning.”

Madge smiled sympathetically, then brightened. “Which means you can get started checking the supplies.”

“True. And color my hair.”

“And have time for lunch?”

“Also true,” Judy admitted.

“Good. I’ll pick you up at twelve. We’ll celebrate the start of the school year by having a quick lunch at The Diner, and then we’ll go to see Barbara together. I’ve been meaning to stop at the shop next door to order something for Andrea anyway. She and Bill are celebrating their second anniversary in a few weeks.”

Lunch at The Diner, the quaint little restaurant that was one of the few businesses like Pretty Ladies that had thrived during the years when Welleswood was just another dying, suburban town, sounded wonderful. Judy’s purse, unfortunately, held barely enough to last for the week as it was, even counting Madge’s tip.

“My treat,” Madge insisted, as if reading Judy’s mind. “I owe you lunch, remember?”

Judy frowned. “You owe me lunch? Since when?”

“Since September, 1986. We both went to lunch at The Diner to celebrate when Candy started her last year of high school. Remember? I’d forgotten my wallet, so you paid the bill. When I tried to repay you, you told me I could pay for both of us the next time we got together on the first day of school, which we never did because that was Candy’s last ‘first day’ of school.”

Judy laughed. “You’re making that up. Your memory might be good, but it’s not that good.”

Madge narrowed her gaze. “As I recall, you were a redhead back then. On that particular day, you were wondering whether or not to go blond or try frosting your hair.”

“So you remember our conversation, too?”

“Tell me you don’t remember what happened to your hair that very afternoon?”

Judy opened her mouth to respond, but a memory flew out of the past. A painful memory that flashed a horrid mental image of the disaster later that afternoon that had left her with bright orange hair less than half an inch long over her entire head on the very day that Candy started her senior year. “Oh, that day?”

“Exactly that day,” Madge insisted. She smiled and patted Judy on the shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at twelve,” she insisted. “In the meantime, stick to the inventory and if you do have time to color your hair, stick to dark brown. It’s more becoming, and it’s safer,” she teased before she left.

Chuckling, Judy hiked up her slacks again. When she saw the tube of conditioner on the counter, her smile widened. She could give Madge the conditioner at lunch, free of charge, one friend to another. The phone rang again. “Pretty Ladies, this is Judy,” she said as she grabbed her pen to either make an appointment or change one.

“Judy Roberts?”

“Yes.”

“Judy, this is Marsha, the school nurse at Park Elementary. It’s Brian. I’m afraid you need to come to the school immediately. He’s—”

Judy dropped the phone, grabbed her purse and ran out the door, barely remembering to lock it behind her before charging down the avenue toward the school.