For All She Knows (Potomac Point #3) - Jamie Beck Page 0,7

back twice each month to give free haircuts and blowouts. Once in a while, I threw in a perm if I had enough time and it had been a good month at my salon, A Cut Above.

Some people got uncomfortable around old folks, but a benefit of being raised by my pious uncle Tommy was that he’d dragged me around on his good deeds, one of which had involved a local senior center in Goochland County, Virginia. That taught me how a little kindness could brighten the day for a lonely senior, and how much they had to tell us if we’d listen. Those Saturday morning visits had been one of the few things from that life that I’d brought with me to Potomac Point.

“Hang on. Maybe there’s a rhinestone hair clip somewhere in my bag.” I spun around to rummage through the giant duffel I used to tote my products back and forth. My fingers caught on something. “Aha!”

I withdrew a crystal-encrusted clip, waving it in the air.

Agnes clapped. “Pretty!”

It was pretty, although it was meant for someone with thicker hair than Agnes had sported in at least twenty years. I combed back a section of her silver bangs and fastened it with the clip.

Agnes made grabby hands for my hand mirror and then dipped her head to get a better look at the sparkler under the lights. “I love it. What do I owe you for it?”

I waved her off. “Consider it a birthday gift. I know I shouldn’t ask your age, but we don’t keep secrets, right? So tell me, how old are you today?”

“Eighty-two.”

“Holy Moses, you don’t look a day over sixty-five. Seventy tops!” I teased the hair at her crown and began to empty a bottle of hairspray so even a hurricane couldn’t disrupt the do.

She preened for a moment before handing my mirror back to me. “How’s that handsome boy of yours?”

“Rowan?” He was handsome, like his father. Tall, broad shouldered, a headful of wavy chestnut-colored hair. Hopefully, he’d become a more dependable kind of man than Dirk, though. “He’s all right. ADHD makes school such a struggle, but he’s aces on the field. Best receiver this town’s had in five or six years, Coach says. That’s his ticket to college.”

Thank God, because even though my salon paid my mortgage and our bills, I wasn’t rolling in the kind of dough that’d pay tuition—assuming he could even get into a decent school with his C-plus average. Although I never went to college, my son deserved that opportunity.

I loved Rowan despite the fact that he sometimes cut class to work out, or broke curfew, or habitually left his dishes in the sink no matter how often I told him to put them in the dishwasher. He’d gotten only more challenging since Dirk left us—sulkier. Grace hadn’t a clue how lucky she was to have a boy like Carter. Polite, smart, responsible. A worry-free teen. Simply unimaginable.

“And what about you?” Agnes elbowed my hip while I sprayed the right side of her hair. “Any romance? It’s so dull around here I could use some sexy gossip to keep our tickers going.”

“Men don’t line up to date a single mom with a teen son.” Strictly speaking, that wasn’t true. Even at thirty-nine I could find a line of interested men, but they wanted only a roll in the sheets. Been there, done that, and never signing up for that ride again. “The best I can do for your ticker is to bring some Harlequin novels the next time I come.”

“You’re meeting the wrong men. Is that what this getup is all about—making a change?” Agnes pointed at my outfit.

Granted, jeans, Keds, and a crewneck sweater weren’t my usual fashion, but I had to look the part in front of the board of education tonight. Normally, I couldn’t care less if people judged me on my sense of style, but this was about Rowan’s future. For him, I’d do anything—including dress like my mother, God rest her soul. And my recent efforts had earned me some respect, which was a nice change, too. Hopefully some of the women I’d been working with would remain friendly after the budget was confirmed.

“Gotta look smart so the board takes me seriously.” Which reminded me to watch the time.

“I read about that debate in the paper. Town sure is divided.”

“Yep.” Although that made it sound more split than it was. Sure, there were protesters, but they were a small, if vocal, group.