O'Brien's Lady - By Marsha Doss Page 0,23

the ends that were split from pulling with rubber bands would have to be trimmed. While she was there her would could be repaired.

If Pierre saw her in this condition he would be horrified. As she glanced into the mirror, Sonny was surprised that she could have let herself get this way. Life here was so different, so full of heavy-duty chores that it had been relatively easy to fall into this slump. The horses always needed attention, and one thing she had learned over the past three months was how dependent the animals were on their owners.

To Sonny, Midnight was like a child who needed care and attention and love. And she wanted to be the one to give it freely without reservations or regrets. There was so much to show Pierre, that Sonny tingled with anticipation at his reaction to the handsome colt who was so much like his mother.

As Sonny closed her eyes that night she wondered what Pierre would think of Pinebrook and Midnight and all the wonderful photographs she had taken. She hoped he would be as pleased with them as she had been.

The Hair Palace, just a few miles from the farm, was already a hub of activity by the time Sonny arrived for her nine o'clock appointment. The young woman seated behind the receptionist desk had her head bent, exposing dark areas showing through the platinum blond hair so reminiscent of another era. She finished making her entry in the appointment book, then looked up.

"Sonny!" The large brown eyes looked back from beneath thick lashes and the perfectly shaped lips spread into a smile. Carol Ann Layne was, in spite of her over-precessed hair, still quite beautiful.

"I didn't know you worked here, Carol Ann."

Sonny was surprised to see the blond who had once spent many weekends around Pinebrook.

"I switched from my business major to

cosmetology, even though it meant an extra two years in school." Carol Ann smiled as she spoke.

"It's nice to see you again." Sonny was groping for words that wouldn't come. Yes, she remembered Carol Ann. How could she forget? She had been Michael's almost constant companion the summer she left for Paris. Sonny's mind bristled at the memory and a strange feeling swept over her.

"Michael said you had come back." Carol Ann dropped the words at Sonny's feet as she led her over to the nearest shampoo area.

"Oh, do you and Michael still see each other?" Sonny hoped her voice sounded casual, but even to her own ear she picked up on the high-pitched sound of each word. Carol Ann began spraying Sonny's hair with warm water.

"Whenever I choose to, we do."

Sonny's face felt warm and she moved uneasily as the water temperature suddenly rose.

"Sorry," Carol Ann said. "Getting too hot for you?"

Sonny opened her eyes and found that the satisfied expression on Carol Ann's face made her much more uncomfortable than the water temperature.

"Never," Sonny responded.

Carol Ann finished the shampoo and rinse and then escorted Sonny to her station. She gently cranked up the salon chair, then pulled the towel from Sonny's head.

"My, you have been neglecting your hair," she said as she combed through the tangled, limp strands. "How about a cut?"

Sonny had wanted a trim, but with the look in Carol Ann's eyes, she decided that would have to wait until another time. The two of them had never been exactly friends, and she was not about to trust her with a pair of scissors.

"No, I just wanted to have it conditioned."

"Well, you're the boss." Carol Ann combed meticulously through the wet strands, and then began drying with the blow dryer held expertly in her hands.

"You really should have a manicure too, Sonny. Whatever have you been doing with those hands?" She smiled into the mirror and Sonny folded her fingers under self consciously.

"Michael and I have been really busy. We're training a new colt named…"

"Midnight. Yes, I know. Michael wants me to come see him soon. He says he'll be a champion."

Sonny bristled. It was none of her business who Michael chose to spend his off hours with, but Carol Ann Layne was certainly not the kind of woman for him. She was as artificial as her smile.

Granted, she had a nice figure and enough basic intelligence to get her through a normal conversation, but she would never get her hands dirty. And somehow, Sonny couldn't imagine Michael getting deeply involved with any woman who couldn't pitch in for a hard day's work.

At least Sonny had