The Liar, Page 52

  decision, we both have to be in on it, have to agree. It’s how we work. So I can’t tell you yes until he’s seen them. What I can tell you is when I talk to him about it, after he has, my weight’s on yes.”

  “It is? You mean it? You— Wait.” She leaned in. “Look right here,” she said, and pointed to her eyes. “Is this a favor to me?”

  “Yeah. I think it’s going to be a favor to all of us.”

  “All of us.” She sat back again. “Thank you. I’ll show him. It’s going to take some time for me to get those credentials, work up a business plan, but knowing you’d recommend me takes a weight off.”

  “Is there any way you can do a little freelancing now?”

  “I haven’t finished the first class yet.”

  “Tansy’s driving Derrick around the bend already. Paint samples, cut sheets of light fixtures, flooring samples, more cut sheets. And we just got the footers put in. If you’d work with her, it would give her some direction—she’s got good ideas, but they’re scattershot right now, and mixed in with her ideas for the nursery. And it would give him a breather. He’d owe you.”

  “I’d be glad to help her out if she wants.”

  “Done. You and Derrick can work out your fee.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to charge them for—”

  With a shake of his head, he handed her back the phone. “That’s not a good business plan.”

  She huffed out a breath. “It’s not, is it?”

  “Do you know how many friends, relatives, casual acquaintances and complete strangers wanted me and/or Griff to build their deck, paint their house, re-lay tile, gut their kitchen when we were starting out?”

  “No.”

  “Me either because there were too many to count. Take the advice of someone who’s been there, done that, and don’t go down that road. If Tansy wants to get your opinion on cribs or paint for the nursery, pal-to-pal, that’s one thing. This is expanding their business. You’ll earn your fee.”

  “All right, if they want me.”

  “I’ll give Derrick a call. If he’s interested, he’ll let you know. I’ve got to get going.”

  “Me, too.” She rose with him. “Mama picked up Callie, but they’re going to be wondering where I am by now. Thank you, Matt.” She hugged him, gave him an extra squeeze. “You save a dance for me Saturday night.”

  “Absolutely. Show Griff those class projects,” he repeated.

  “I will, first chance.”

  She went back in. There were some customers still—a couple of women using the Relaxation Room after their treatment, a couple more who’d come in for hair after their own workday.

  But Shelby’s workday was done.

  She got her purse, said her goodbyes, then stepped out the door.

  And unexpectedly into Griff’s arms.

  The kiss caught her off guard, which may have accounted for her head going giddy.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  “I saw your van, so I was coming in to hunt you up.”

  “I was just . . .” The giddiness cleared when she spotted Crystal, her customer and the shampoo girl who’d stayed late to sweep up, all with their faces pressed to the front window.

  Crystal just flapped a hand at her heart when Shelby made shooing motions.

  “We’re this evening’s first performance.”

  Griff only grinned, waved to the women as Shelby tugged him toward her van. “Working late?”

  “Actually, I needed to talk to Granny, then I had a little rendezvous with Matt.”

  “A rendezvous in the Ridge. Do I have to go punch him?”

  “Not this time. You know, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about, and some things I’d like to show you.”

  “About the big party?”

  “Not altogether. Why don’t you come home with me, come on to supper? Mama and Daddy would be pleased to see you. And Callie would be thrilled.”

  “Three redheads, a doctor and a free meal. I’d be crazy to say no.” Still he looked down at his grubby T-shirt, dusty jeans. “But there was dirty work to be done today, and I haven’t gotten home to clean up.”

  “You can wash up at the house, and we’ll eat outside. We tend to in this kind of weather.”

  “Then I’m right behind you.”

  “I’ll just let Mama know you’re coming, so she doesn’t get caught without her lipstick.” Even as she reached for her phone, it signaled a text.

  “Your mama?” Griff asked as she read.

  “No. From Derrick.”

  It said only: Yes, please yes. Save me from decorating hell.

  “Something we’ll talk about.” She walked to the driver’s door. “What’re you still doing in town?”

  “It looks like I was waiting for you.”

  It made her smile. The whole damn day made her smile.

  • • •

  THE BURLY SUV drove slowly by as she got into the van. She didn’t so much as glance over, but probably wouldn’t have recognized the driver.

  He’d changed his look again.

  As she drove toward home, he drove up into the hills.

  He knew what he planned to do, and when, and it pleased him to know what had started in Miami was nearly over.

  29

  When Griff walked into Vi’s place on Saturday, Snickers rocked the house. Women—stylists, customers, technicians—hunkered down to oooh over him, to rub his belly, stroke his ears, and generally to send the dog into an apoplexy of joy.

  He thought back to his early twenties when he’d routinely looked for ways to meet women.

  He should’ve rented a puppy.

  He’d come in—under protest, and under Emma Kate’s orders—to get his hair trimmed up. He hated getting his hair trimmed up, but she’d been a little bit scary in the intensity of the order.

  “You need yourself a trim,” Viola stated, and made his shoulders hunch.

  “Emma Kate said I had to, but you’re busy, so—”

  “Nobody’s in my chair this minute. You come over here, Griffin, and sit.”

  The pup immediately plunked his butt down and looked pleased with himself. And the women chorused an awwww!

  “A man should look well-groomed for his best friend’s engagement party.” Viola pointed a finger at her chair. “Be good like your dog.”

  “Just, you know, a little.” Wishing himself pretty much anywhere else, Griff sat.

  “Have I ever taken whacks at it?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She whipped a cape around him, picked up her spray bottle to dampen it down.

  “You’ve got a fine head of hair, Griffin. I’ll see you keep it. I suspect you were traumatized at the barbershop as a young boy.”

  “They brought in a clown—one of those crazy-wigged clowns. It was bad. Really bad. Did you ever read It? Stephen King’s book? That kind of clown.”

  “No clowns around here of any kind.” Enjoying herself, she gave his cheek a rub. “Boy, you need a shave.”

  “Yeah, I’ll take care of it later.”

  “I’ll give you a shave.” When his eyes went a little wild, she just smiled. “Have you ever had a woman give you a good, close shave with a straight razor?”

  “No.”

  “You’re in for a treat.” She adjusted the chair, picked up her scissors. “You haven’t asked where Shelby is.”

  “I was counting on you to tell me.”

  “She’s in the back. We got a group of six women, friends since college. They’re taking a long weekend together, staying up at the big hotel. It’s nice having forever friends. You’ve got that with Matt.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She kept up an easy conversation while she drew small sections of his hair up between her fingers, snipped. To relax him, he knew. Every couple of months, when he talked himself into going in for a trim—or got pushed there—she did the same.

  He liked to watch her work—the quick, competent, precise move
s, the way her eyes measured the cut even as she talked to him or tossed out orders, answered questions.

  She could keep up with half a dozen conversations at once. He considered it a rare skill.

  “She’s going to be beautiful all her life.”

  “Shelby?”

  Viola met his eyes in the mirror, smiled. “Wait till you see her tonight. She’s got to get out of here soon, get Callie settled, then come back here so I can do her hair up. I see it in my head already.”

  “You’re not going to straighten it, are you?”

  “Not a bit. She says she’s got to get up to the hotel early, so you won’t be able to take her, and that’s a shame because I believe the pair of you would make quite the entrance.

  “Lorilee, I’m about done here. Would you go heat me up a towel for Griff’s shave?”

  “Sure thing, Miz Vi.”

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “Griffin Lott, how are you going to talk me into leaving my husband of near to fifty years and running off with you if you don’t trust me not to cut your throat?”

  So he ended up cocked back in the chair, a moist hot towel covering his face—but for the nose. He had to admit, it felt great—until he heard the sounds of her stropping the razor.

  “I still use my great-granddaddy’s razor,” she said conversationally. “That’s for sentiment mostly. He passed it to my granddaddy, and he’s the one taught me how to shave a man.”

  He actually felt his Adam’s apple try to shrink.

  “When’s the last time you did?”

  “I shave Jackson most every week.” She leaned down close. “We think of it as foreplay.”

  As he choked, she removed the towel. “We won’t think of that as you’re thinking of that with my grandbaby. Added to it, I used to shave Mayor Haggerty every Saturday morning—before he retired and moved to Tampa, Florida. We’ve got a woman mayor now.”

  She poured oil into her hands, rubbed them together, then smoothed it over his face.

  “This is going to soften your beard up, and give you a nice cushion between your face, the cream and the blade. Smells nice, too.”

  “That doesn’t sound like your grandfather’s shave.”

  “You’ve got to move with the times.” Busily she laid a thick layer of shaving cream over his face, his throat, using a wide, stubby brush to whirl it. “So to go back, I don’t shave the mayor these days. But there are one or two around who like a good barbershop shave regular who come in. Others go to Lester’s Barbershop. He’s always talking about retiring, and if he ever does, I’ll be expanding my services for gentlemen.”

  “Always thinking.”

  “Oh, I am, Griffin.”

  His gaze slid toward the straight razor with its pearl handle, then away.

  “What you do,” she continued, “is work in short strokes, with the grain of the hair. Then, if you want a good, close shave like I’m giving you today, you go back again, against the grain.” Gently, with her thumb, she pulled the skin under his sideburn tight. “Don’t feel much pressure, right? Gotta let the blade do the work. If you need pressure, you need a sharper blade.”

  She worked methodically, keeping up a flow of words. He relaxed, mostly, even when he felt the blade against his throat.

  “Are you aiming to marry my girl, Griffin?”

  He opened his eyes, looked up into hers. He saw amusement in hers. “As soon as she’s ready.”

  “That’s a fine answer. I taught her to shave a man.”

  “Really?”

  “She might be out of practice, but she had a good hand with it. And speaking of that, here she comes.”

  He was afraid to move, could only shift his eyes. He heard the dog scramble up, heard her voice. Heard her laugh.

  “Fathoms deep,” Viola murmured. “That’s what the poets say. You’re fathoms deep, Griffin.”

  “And still sinking.”

  “Well, look at this! I didn’t know you went for the barbershop shave, Griff.”

  “It’s my first.”

  Shelby stroked two fingers over his left cheek. “Mmmm. Smooth as it gets.”

  “Foreplay,” Viola said again, and had Shelby snickering.

  “It does make you think, doesn’t it? Granny, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I got an SOS from the hotel as it seems Miz Bitsy took herself up there even after she promised she wouldn’t. Now I have to put out a couple little fires before she gets them blazing.”

  “You go right on. I told you to take the day off.”

  “I thought she’d be busy right in here. She’s got appointments, for hair and nails. I’ve got to get her out of the way, smooth things down and be back here in less than a half hour to get the girls. I promised I’d take them to Story Time, and Tracey’s got plans. Miz Suzannah’s got a dentist appointment. I can’t let Miz Bitsy have her head up there right now, and I don’t want to disappoint Callie and Chelsea.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Shelby gave Griff’s shoulder a pat before she hurried to the front counter for her purse. “I don’t doubt you’re good at putting out fires, but—”

  “No, not Miz Bitsy. I’ll pick up the kids, take them to Story Time.”

  As with the puppy, this generated a chorus of awws from bystanders.

  “Griff, I’m talking about two four-year-olds.”

  “I got that.”

  “And don’t you have work?”

  “Matt took off—he and Emma Kate were able to grab an appointment to look at this place for the wedding.”

  “What place?”

  “I don’t know. Some wedding place. I’ve done about all I can do on my own till about three, when we’ve got some more material coming in.”

  “I’m supposed to have the girls over at Miz Suzannah’s at around three. They’re having a sleepover.”

  “There you go. I’ll pick them up, take them to Story Time. We can kick around in the park or something for an hour, whatever, if you’re not back. I’ll drop them off, and be back when the material gets here.

  “You can take my truck. I’ll take your van.”

  “I’m not sure if Tracey would feel right about you taking the girls.”

  “Oh, she’ll be fine, Shelby.” Viola flicked that idea away.